Young lady's counsellor, or, Outlines and illustrations of the sphere, the duties and the dangers of young women designed to be a guide ...

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THE
VOUNG LADY'S COUNSELLOR
OK,
Outlines aub |llustrati0ti$
or
THE SPHERE, THE DUTIES, AND THE DANGERS
OP
YOUNG WOMEN.
DESIGNED TO BE A GUIDE TO TRUE HAPPINESS IN THIS
LIFK A^D TO GLORY IN THE LIFE WHICH IS TO COME.
BY REV. DAXI EL WISE, A. U.
\i
MTTHOR ->r -TIIE VOCNO MANS COrNSEM.OK.- 'BRIDAL GREETINGS,
"r-ATD OF LIKE," 'GUIDE TO TUE SAVIOVK,' ETC., ETC.
NEW YORK:
F H I L L I P S & HUNT
CINXIXXATI:
\V A L D K N & S T O W E
Entered acoordiiig- to Act of Cbngress, in the }\;i;- 1=^51,
BY DANIEL WISE,
\i\ the Clerk's (Office of the District Court for tlie District oJ
Massachusetts.
AUBURN UN.VtRSlTY
RALPH BROWN DRAUGHON LIBRARY'
AUBURN UNIVERSITY MABAMA '^^«4*'
5 '
•
^
SHIRK
|nstr}5ti0tt.
TO
THE YOUNG WOMEN OF AMERICA
®I)is Book
B m8C«lBHD WITH FEATERNAL AFFECTION BY THEIR
USOEEE FRIEND AND WELL-WISHEB,
DANIEI WISE
Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2010 with funding from
Lyrasis IVIembers and Sloan Foundation
http://www.archive.org/details/youngladyscounseOOwise
PREFACE.
The imporUnce of female culture cannot be too
highly estimated, especially in this country, where
our institutions depend on the virtue of the people.
A self-governed nation must be both intelligent and
religious ; for if a principle of moral restramt dwells
not in the breast of a man, he cannot live peacefully
in society, without the terror of some external, con-straining
force. Society must sink into a state of
anarchy, from which a relentless despotism will be
evolved, unless it feels the moral force of the senti-ment
of duty. And on what agency are we to de-pend
for the creation and cultivation of this mighty
conservative idea of duty, in the teeming millions ot
our future population ? Are our pulpits and our
educational appliances sufficient to accomplish this
great work ? Nay ! That they are indispensable
and potent instrumentalities, that they cannot be
too highly appreciated or earnestly supported, is
freely admitted ; but there is a power behind the
SCHOOL-ROOM AND THE CHURCH, which is Capable of
neutralizing the efforts of both. Maternal influence,
VI PREFACE.
acting on the infant mind in its first stage of impress-ibility,
stamps an almost ineffaceable image of good
or evil upon it, long before it can be made to feel the
power of the teacher or the minister. Hence the
necessity of multiplied, earnest endeavors to promote
the growth of the loftiest and holiest traits of mind
and heart, in the young women who are destined to
be the mothers of a succeeding generation, and, con-sequently,
to exert that fearful influence, which,
more than all others, will determine its character.
This book is an humble but earnest effort to stimu-late
and direct the growth of female mind, and there-by
to fit it for the fulfilment of its high earthly mis-sion,
and for felicity in the world of spirits. If God
will be pleased to make it a dew^-drop of love, beauty,
and fertility in the spirits of some of the daughters
of our land, the highest ambition of the author will
be satisfied
D. W.
El>i Street Parsonage, >
New Bedfobd, Aug. 1861 J
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
THE MISTAKE OF A LIFETIME.
The death-bed of a royal lady — A spectacle of sadness —The misiaKe
of her lifetime — A fear expressed — An appeal to the reader's views
of life— Her mistake — The alchemist — His home described — His
theory and labors — His fate — Contempt for his folly — A similar
folly described — Voices of revelation and experience — Poetical
extract — A vital question proposed — A poet's answer — The answer
• of inspiration — Relation of the visible world to the mind — Quota-tion
from Schiller — Bees and flowers — The laboratory of bliss — A
poet on the Alps — Beautiful description of an Alpine storm — Power
of the mind over nature—The mind Independent of social evils — The
sick maiden — Her poverty, sufferings and bliss — The masquerade —
Miserable minds in places of pleasure — The mind its own heaven or
hell — Unpalatable truth— The despised herb — The lock of hair —
Danger of scorning truth — A happy escape, 13
CHAPTER II.
THE FOUNTAIN OF LIFE UNSEALED.
The Alpine fir-tree — Happiness must be brought into the heart — Pic-ture
of a soul trusting to its own resources — Lessons from the lips ot
Jesus — The fountain of living bliss — Goddess of Grecian mythology
— A famine described — A national enigma — lis solution —The
evils gflife--How to view them calmly — Picture by a German artist
— Loneliness of woman's ?.ot renders religion necessary —Opinion of
the Duchess of Newcastle — The rich joy of a religious mind — The
subterranean homes of the polar regions — Religion renders woman
CONTENTS.
independent if outward circumstances — The ancient Chiistian. with
his arms of faith and idve — Quotation from Vaughn— The piano-
Its wires — The tuner — The mind out of tune— Religion necessary
to imparl high womanly qualities—Schiller's Queen of Spain — Fahe
jewels — Life like i natural flower, 13
CHAPTER III.
INFLUENCE.
The vain request — Influence eternal — What influence is — We must
exert influence — The caliiedral and its mystic organ — The choice —
The dread alternative — An old English castle — Queen Judith a.id
her influence— Incredulity of the reader removed — Woman's influ-ence
peculiar— Mothers of Augustine, Washington, Oberlin and Wes-ley
— Their influence on the characters of their sons — The broken
dyke — The heroic boy — His motive — Responsibility of a young
lady's position — The weed on the farm — Efl^ect of consecrated influ-enc3
— Adhesion of plate-glass - Invisibility of influence — The
punctured eye — Unconscious influence of a sister — Distance be-tween
an act and its final consequences — Tlie lost arrow found — Re-membered
music — The praying mother — Her death — Apparent
death of lier influence — Its harvest — Buchanan — Judson — Scott —
Legh Riciimond — Rev. J. Newton — Louisa of Savoy an exampie
of evil influence — A fancy — Influence not the result of wealth and
station — The Syrian damsel — The evening party — Idle wishes —
Fruit of a careless word — An appeal in favor of religion, 55
CHAPTER IV.
THE TRUE SPHERE OF WOMAW.
I Jan of Arc and Hannah More —Their deeds — Repugnance to former
— L<ive for the latter — These feelings instinctive and universal —
Queen Elizabeth — Martha Glar — Jael — Volumnia and Virgilia —
Lady Jane Grey — Queen Victoria — A law of the mind — Claims set
up for women — Protest of woman's nature — Sustained by the Gos-pel
— Christ's truth made a INIary, a Dorcas, a Lydia — Martyrs — Did
not change the sphere of women — The lady's surprise — The pas-tor's
answer — A great truth— Diversity of sphere not inferiority
of employment — Woman's spliere described — Ship at sea — Th«
CONTENTS.
stonny petrel — Tlie land bml — Fatal consequences of wandering
from an appointed sphere—John Adams and Gen. Howe — J. Q.
Adams' tribute to his niutlier — Kant — Pascal — Martyn — Woman's
mission gratifying to ambition — Pleasure of her mission—Washing-ton
and his mother at a festal scene—Religion needed to fit a young
Itody for her work. ^y)
CHAPTER V.
LOVELINESS OF SPIRIT.
eiinracter of Lucy—A lovely spirit the central star in female character
— Woman's sceptre and sword — Its strength — Ossian's maid of
Lutha—Loveliness the offspring of high qualities —The maniac—
The little girl — The proffered gift—Victory of love over matbiess —
The market-woman and her idiot boy —The death chamber — Love
and idiocy — The abbey — Cazotte and his daughter — A thrilling
scene— Love subduing the spirit of assassins — An inference — The
arg-ament applied — Cornelia and the Gracchi — T)ie Romans and
their marble statues— A gi-eat truth — How loveliness wins its tri-umphs—
William Wirt to bis daughter—Annette and Frederick-
The happy discovery— Caius Marius and the Gallic soldier — Mental
impressions—Mind must pos^^ess the qualities it imprints on others
—Effects of seeking lovely spirit—The twin children — Sympathy
— Extract from Schiller — Posa's question to Philip — Loveliness
not natural in woman, not attainable by human strengin —Job's con-fession
—Paul's experience— Divine help necessary to genuine love-liness
102
CHAPTER VI.
SELF-RELIANCE.
flie SMss huntsman —The discovered treasure —The enchantment of
gold—The fatal rock — Tlie hunter's death — Pity for his fate—
A
Kindred folly — The future sacrificed to the present—A first duty —
Fitness for the emergencies of life — The ivy and the oak—A dis-credited
saying — Madame Letitia—Pictures of Marie Antoinette —
Mournful illustration of the uncertainty of hope —The illustration
applied — Independence on the question of marriage secured by self-reliance—
Marrying for a settlement— Superior position of a self-
10 CONTENTS.
dependent woman — Morvale's firmness — Advance 'nlu life bring*
clianges — Creates necessity for self-reliance —A great fact — Fallen
women — Influence of poverty on their fall — Self reliance might have
saved them — Effect of self-reliance in women on observers — The twc
queens — Marie Antoinette's failure in a crisis — Queen Esther's suc-cess
in a great exigency — Causes of Marie's failure — Of EsthRt's
success — Elements of self-reliance, i^
CHAPTER VII.
THE SECRET SPRINGS OF SELF-RELIANCE.
The emir's daughter — Her love — Her pursuit and its success — Her
folly — Rash self-reliance described — True self-reliance — A decided
mind one of its springs — Example of Pizarro — Consecration to the
idea of duty — Effect on the feelings in view of danger — Illustrated
by Empress Josephine's affection for Napoleon —Extract from Joanna
Eaillic — Courage a spring of self reliance — The mother of Jonathan
Harrington — Necessity of courage —Use of in woman — Count
Alberti and his noble wife- Ayxa the sultana — Poetic extract-
Learning how to support self— Henry Laurens to his daughters —
Madame de Genlis —Education a means of support — Skill in needle-work—
Life in a factory considered — Labor not degrading— Madame
Roland— Mary Dwight — Trust in God — Paul at the Roman tri-bunal
152
CHAPTER VIII.
OF SELF-CULTURE.
tlbwald's character — Sameness of human hearts —Seed of eood an(J
ill — Culture a condition of growth —Sculptures in museums — Rela-tion
of skill and beauty— Diversity of female character— Vain wonieii
- -Artful, selfish, malicious women — Slanderers — Model women —
The difference explained—Self culture urged— Encouraged — Extract
from De Monifort — The embroidery pattern — Correct aim necessaiy
— Mutual relations of mind and body — Health must be cared for —
Intellectual culture — Reading for pleasure — Novels—Their relati.n
to pleasure and to character— Their irreligious tendency — Object of
reading— How to find pleasure in reading — The Bible — How to read
It— Moral culture —A secret — Jeanie Deans— Princess Elizabeth —
A comparison — Constantine to Victoria— Impulses — The sinking?
CONTENTS. 11
boat— The runaway horses —Ascendency of the will — How main-tained
— Dress and amusements in their relation to self- culture—The
Jady and her lost pearls — A lesson on improving opportunities —
Self-reproach—Divine aids — Preseht moment precious, . . . IT7
CHAPTER IX.
THE YOUNG LADY AT HOMF
Tuliia— Her unwomanly and unfilial character— Resemblances to hex
character — Beauty of filial love — A scene of suffering — A daugh-ter's
sacrifice —Her reward — De Sombreuil's daughter and llie glass
ofblood— How to manifest filial affection — God's approval of filial
love — Sisterly aflfection— Its influence on the pleasure of home
—
How to be exhibited — Influence on a brother —Jane de Montfort'a
love — The horticulturist and his young trees — Home a social
nursery — Beauty of home— Its adaptations to fit for future life —
Golden seeds— Golden harvests —Sheaves — Pleasant recollections —
A brightening home, 200
CHAPTER X.
THE YOUNG LADY FROM HOME.
first lessons of life inaccurate — Moonlit landscape — Lessons of expe
rience— The school — Siebenkfts and his wife — The end of school
education — Its seriousness — Should be seriously treated — EflTect of
appreciating its aims— The dull scholar encouraged —Jenny Lind's
perseverance and triumph—School manners —111 manners at schoo
— Source of good manners— Benevolence a duty — The orienta
ascetic — The glass of water —The well— Private and associated
benevolence — The Sabbath school — Tracts —Visiting the sick—
Pseudo reformers to be avoided—Travelling alone dangerous — Alic<»
—A caution, 215
CHAPTER XI.
COUBTSHIP AND MARRIAGE.
The two trees—The divided heights — Images of marriage— Fala«
DOtiona of marriage— Magic castlea —Marriage important—Deain
12 CONTENTS.
Me- Hasty marriages improper — Single life belter than a bad mar
riage— Picture of a miserable wife—What .s marriage— Relation ot
affection to genuine marriage— Injurious ideas — Nonsensical views
of love —The affections controlled by reason — Courtship— Its object
— A lover's character to be studied — A vital lest — Passion leads ine
young astray — The military chieftain enthralled by it — Passion's
dreamland — A young lady's love her greatest treasure — Poetical
extract — A reason for cauticn in courtship— Strangers — How to
regard them — Villains may be detected — Extract from Coleridge --
From Eliza Cook — Menial and moral purity a woman's armor — A
chaste woman described— The characteristics requisite in a suitor —
Self-denial — Energy — Cultivation — Industry — Economy — Benev-olence
— Must not be a proud man —Nor a clown — Nor a fop — Nor
deformed — Should be religious — On consulting parents — Female
monsters— Myra's elopement — Her subsequent misery — Caution ir.
the intimacies of courtship—No haste to wed — Premature marriage
Inadvisable— Cdncluding remarks, 231
THE
fOUNG LADY'S COUNSELLOR.
CHAPTEE I.
THE MISTAKE OF A LIFETIME.
ILL the light-hearted maiden,
whose laughing eyes glance at
these lines, permit her attention
to rest a moment or two upon the
sketch I am about to pencil ? albeit,
it may be of a more sad and som-bre
hue than the bright images usually
floating before her imaofi nation. Be-hold,
then, a once puissant lady strug-gling
with the agonies of life's last hours '
"^jT^^ She is rich in gold and diamonds, in
palaces and lands. The blast of her war-trumpets
can summon squadrons of armed men to the field.
Her word of command can cover the seas with the
14 THE YOUNG LADY's COUNSEILOR.
white sails of one of the proudest navies of the
globe. Her red-cross banner floats in pride from
many a " castled crag," and over
"A land of beauty
Fondled by the circling sea."
Vet is the face of this queenly sufferer deadly
pale ; her eyes are wandering and restless ; and her
expressive features indicate extreme mental distress.
Legions of sad remembrances are marching through
her mind, terrible as a phantom army to her fears
A mitred prelate stands beside her royal couch,
vainly endeavoring, by his devotions, to soothe her
ruffled spirit, and fit it for its passage to the veiled
world beyond. Vain attempt ! Every look of Eng-land's
royal mistress, the great Elizabeth, that once
haughty daughter of the Tudors, seems to say
:
" Gladly would I surrender pomp, power, and empire,
for the sweet innocency of childhood ; for
A conscience free from sin !
'
"
And thus, with her spirit tossed upon a sea of
doubt, restless and shuddering, she surrenders hei
THE MISTAKE OF A LIFETIME. 15
earthly throne, and sttinds undistinguished amidst a
crowd of spirits, a trembling subject at the bar of the
King of kinoes
!
This is a spectacle of sadness. Such sorrow, in
such a mmd, at such an hour, was very painful to
endure. Nevertheless, it was only the necessary
sequence of a great and fatal mistake which had
ruled the life of the queen. What was that mis-take
? She had relied upon things external to her-self
iox enjoyment and content I She had looked to
her crown, her kingdom, her friends, as springs from
which streams of pleasure were to flow into her soul.
She had dreamed of attaining happiness by levying
contributions upon the vast array of outward and
visible objects which the Providence of God had
placed within her reach. Vain expecta tion ! Illusive
dream ! It made her life turbulent and uneasy, and
her death painful and unsatisfactory. She had obvi-ously
mistaken the false for the true, • — the evil tor
the good. Failing to discern the tru«. ''fountain of
living water" she lived and died in the vain attempt
to quench thi mighty thirst of her undying spirit
i6 THE YOUNG I.ADV'rf COL N'SELLOR.
at "cisterns," whieli, though of imposing magnifi-cence
and peerless splendor, nevertheless " hold no
water /"
I am seriously inclined to fear that the young
lady to whom I now write is entering the great
temple of life under the guidance of this same fatal
mistake. Is it not so, my reader ? Are you not look
ing out upon the thousand gay things of life with the
expectation of deriving your choicest pleasure from,
their possession ? Is not life vocal to your ears with
alluring sounds of invitation to partake of its delights
and be happy ? And do you not listen to those
voices with pleasing rapture, and fancy how com-pletely
blessed you should be, if wealth to purchase
admission to the halls of gayety and fashion were
yours? If you were the "belle" of the ball-room,
the fascination of the soiree, the " admired of all
admirers" at Newport or Saratoga, the betrothed of
some noble-minded lover, or the wife of some doting
husband, then, you imagine, your heart would throb
with genuine and substantial bliss. The desire
which, by its restlessness, now keeps you from true
THE MISTAKE OF A LIFETIME. H
mental repose, would then, you fancy, be satisfied
:
that sense of soul-emptiness of which you are so
painfully conscious would be removed, and you be
the delighted possessor of genuine bliss on earth.
These things being so, are you not self-convicted
of the same error whose disastrous consequences you
just now beheld in my picture of the royal Eliza-beth
? That fatal mistake, of looking wholly to
things external to herself for happiness, which embit-tered
her life and robbed her death-bed of all true
comfort, is already beguiling you. That mistake
must be corrected, or you will also live unblessed,
and die uncomforted.
Let us enter, at least in fancy, yon ancient
house, whose high-peaked roofs and gable ends
proclaim it a relic of the " days that are no more."
Within, it is desolate and lonely. A venerable lady
of the olden time is housekeeper ; and a girl of rude
manners, but robust frame, is her servant. Let us
ascend these rickety stairs, and introduce, ourselves
10 'the owner of this antiquated pile. Here is his
room, it is a laboratory, containing, as you may see,
18 THE YOUNG LADl 3 COUNSELLOR.
a vast array of bottles filled with chemical* and
piles of musty folios. Bendmg oi'er his alembic
with fixed attention, behold the philosopher himself,
wrapped in the folds of a huge dressing-gown, and a
high study-cap upon his head. Gray ringlets steal
down upon his shoulders. His studious face is
covered with deep wrinkles; for sixty years he has
steadily experimented by day and dreamed at night,
in the vain hope of wringing from nature a mighty
secret. Profoundly, and with unwearied patience, hh
has interrogated nature-, and bent over that alembic
and its mysterious mixtures, until the manly vigor
of previous 3'ears has given way to the decrepitude
of trembling age. Still he toils and will toil on,
until he falls, a martyr to his theory, into the dreary
grave. And for what ? you inquire. Lady I he
is an alchemist. He seeks the philosopher's stone
by which all baser metals are to be transuiuted into
gold; and the elixir of life, by which all diseases are
to be cured, and our race endowed with eternal
you.h!
' Philosopher's stone, indeed ! Elixir of life!
THE MISTAKE OF A LIFETIME. 19
What nonsense I That old alchemist with all his
philosophical learning, must be sadly lacking in com-mon
sense ! " you vehemently exclaim, your pursed
brow and flashing eyes expressing also thf' earnest-ness
of your indignation at his folly.
But why should you^ young madam, be so incensed
against that harmless old alchemist, while you are
guilty of a folly equally obvious, but infinitely more
serious in its consequences ? Why is that theorist
a fool ? Simply because he seeks an obvious impossi-bility
: he pursues a dream, —he grasps a shadow !
Vou do the same ; for have I not convicted you. on
the testimony of your own consciousness, of seeking
to extract true happiness from the external world
alone ? With equal discretion might you search
after the elixir of life, or the philosopher's stone. For
how can perishing matter satisfy imperishable mind \
Can a mind like yours, endowed with ciavmgs after
the Divine, the infinite, and the immortal, be satisfied
(vith the finite, the created, the ever-changing visible
world? Never! It is impossible, in the nature of
thmgs. And a mind unsatisfied is a mind unhappy.
20 THE YOUNG LADY's COUNSELLOR.
Listen to the sad song of a poet, who dipped his pen
in an inkhorn filled with tears of bitter disappoint"
ment, and, writing from his own history, said
:
" As charm on charm unwinds
Which robed our idols, and we see too sure
Nor worth nor beauty dwells from out the mind's
Ideal shape of such : yet still it binds
The fatal spell, and still it draws us on.
Reaping the whirlwind from the oft-sown winds ;
The stubborn heart, its alchemy begun,
Seems ever near the prize—wealthiest when most undone.'
There never was a mind, since the world began,
which would not have sadly responded to the truth
of these lines, after a thorough trial of the power of
the external world to bless the heart. And to uni-versal
experience is superadded the emphatic declar*
ation of Jehovah, who has written, with his owx
fmgers, on the arch which spans the great entrance
to real life, this significant inquiry, " Wherefore do
you speiid money for that which is not bread 1 and
your labor for tJtat which satisjieth noi ?
"
Pause, young lady, in presence of this Divine ques-tion,
lad this 'iniversai experience! Permit your
THE MISTAKE OF A LIFETIME. 21
mind to reflect gravely on the imminent risk, not to
say daring recklessness, of venturing into a sea where
every previous voyager has wrecked his bark, and
where so many have perished. Let the combined
voices of God and man settle the question for you,
without making the dangerous trial yourself. Receive
it as a mental conviction, that, although external
objects may please for a moment, as toys aniuse
children, — although, in their appropriate uses, they
may swell the fountain of the mind's joy,—yet they
are necessarily and immutably unfitted to be its
portion.
Should you, my dear reader, concur with me m
this opinion, you will have taken the first step
toward escaping from the fatal mistake which spoiled
the life of the royal Elizabeth.
"From whence, then, am I to derive true hap-piness
? If it is so fatal to look for it to things
without myself, whither shall I look?" you very
properly and eagerly inquire.
I will permit a human and a Divine teacher to
solve your problem. The former is a poet He says:
22 THE YOUNG LADY's COTJNSELLOE.
" There are, in this loud slormy tide
Of human care and crime,
With wiiom the melodies abide
Of the everlasting chime ;
'^'^ho carry music in their hearts.
Thmugh dusky lane and wrangling mart
Plying their daily task with busier feet,
Because their secret souls a holy strain repeat."
The latter, speaking under heavenly inspiration,
writes that " a good man shall he satisfied from
himself,''^ Both passages teach that the sources of
genuine pleasure are to be sought loithin the mind
itself: that the rich repose enjoyed by a happy mind
originates from something dwelling within itself:
that happiness does not flow in from the outer world,
but springs up, unseen by others, within the mysteri-ous
sanctuary of the soul : and that the power of visi-ble
things to swell the tide of harmony in the mind
depends upon the mind itself. The everlasting
chime of melody, which may charm the ear of hei
who listens aright to the voices of the visible world,
originates in the soul of the listener. Whoso would
draw a " concord of sweet sounds " from the world
without, must carry music in her heart; just as the
THE MISTAKE OF A LIFETIME 23
maiden, who sits before the richly-toned instrument,
must hrst have the musical idea in herseh", before she
can call forth floods of melody from its obedient
keys.
*
As Schiller justly inquires,
'• Doth the harmony
In the sweet lute-strings belong
To the purchaser, who, dull of ear, doth keep
The instrument ? True she hath bought the right
To strike it into fragments — yet no art
To wake its silvery tones, and melt with bliss
Of thrilling song! Truth for the wise exists,
And beauty for the feeling heart."
The flower blooms brightly, and exhales odorifer-ous
perfume to myriads of insects ; but the industri-ous
bee, taught by its curious instinct, alone extracts
and stores away its delicious sweets. So, though
the earth contains ten thousand flowers, whose bloom
may delight the soul, and whose odor may ravish
the heart, yet those alone whose minds are fitly dis-posed
can enjoy the luxury. Outward things are
to the mind just what the mind is to itself. If tho
«und be its own heaven, then is earth its Eden ; but
24 THE YOUNG LADY's COUNSELLOR.
if it be its own hell, then the things and objects ol
life are instruments of vexation and of torture.
Within the mind itself, therefore, the elixir of .ife
must be produced. The human bosom ts the little
chamber in which, as in a laboratory, bliss or woe
IS created. There we must study the occult art of
extracting honey from the world's flowers, music
from its motions, and enjoyment from its relations.
There we must obtain strength to subdue it to our
service. There we must acquire the alchemy of
transmuting its poisons into nutritious sweets. There
must we look, and there find, if we find it at all,
the fountain of a joyous life—of all true pleasure.
*' The kingdom of God is within you," said the Lord
Jesus ; and so of a happy life,—its springs are withlv
YOU.
A lordly poet once stood amidst a fearful storm,
at night, on the Alps. Nature, in one of her most
savage aspects, in one of her most appalling mo-ments,
stood before him. The scene was sufficiently
dreadful to send the blood back to the stoutest heart,
Bud to hush even a courageous mind to trembling
THE MISTAKE OF A LIFETIME. 2£
reverence. But there stood the poet, in a rapture of
dflight, which he expressed in these beautiful lines
"O night
And storm and darkness, ye are wondrous strong, —
Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light
Of a dark eye in woman ! — far along,
From peak to peak, the rattling crags among,
Leaps the live thunder ! — not from one lone cloud,
But every mountain now hath found a tongue,
And Jura answers, through her misty shroud,
Back*to the j*oyous*Alps,*who ca*ll to h*er aloud! How the lit lake shines a phosphoric sea,
And the hig rain comes dancing to the earth!
And now again 't is black, and now the glee
Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain mirth.
As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's birth."
Whence the enthusiastic pleasure, worthy of the
ipirits of the storm, which inspired these verses '{
Why should this poet revel, as in a fairy-land of
beauty, over a scene which caused his companions
to tremble ? Why should the same occurrence pro-dace
precisely opposite effects on the different spec-tators?
Whence the difference? Plainly in the
minds of the spectators only. The poet, nurtured
among the most rugged scenes of nature, and reck-
26 THE YOUNG LADY'S COUNSELLOR.
less of all danger, had a soul in harmony with the
storm, and could enjoy its terrors ; while others
anable to perceive the sublime and beautiful, through
fear of the terrible which surrounded it, beheld aad
trembled, A striking illustration this, you now per-ceive,
of the truth, that things without the mind bless
or curse it only as that mind is predisposed. If
fearful, and alive only to the terrible, it will tremble;
if bold, and sensitive to what is sublime and beauti-ful,
it will be delighted.
The mind has a similar power to determine the
influence which its condition in social life shall exert
upon it. The most abject poverty cannot compel it
to be unhappy ; the most favorable state in life can-not
insure its pleasure. Upon itself alone depends
the power of circumstance to embitter or to charm.
Let it be at peace with itself, loving the pure and
Aovely, living on rational and cheerful hopes, and, as
the poet said of a mind animated by hope,
" Hope, — the sweet bird, — while that the air can fill,
Let earth be ice — the soul has summer still."
Are you in doubt concerning the possibility of
TUh MISTAKE OF A LIFETIME. 27
fliLiiitainiDg a summer of warmth and beauty in the
soul, while the desolation of a Greenland wintei
reigns around ? Let me remove your scepticism by
portraying an illustrative fact. Enter with me the
chamber of a sick and suffering maiden. Observe,
as you cross the threshold, its utter barrenness of all
that ministers to taste or comfort. How bare its
cracked and smoky walls ! No carpet covers the
uneven floor,—no couches or easy-chairs invite to
repose. A chair or two, a rude bed, whose well-patched
covering eloquently proclaims the dominion
of poverty, compose its entire furniture. But see!
How pale is the face of that young suflPerer ! Listen
to her suppressed groans—to her piercing shriek !
Her convulsive starts, her distorted features, alarm
you. " Poor creature ! How she sufiers !" is your
involuntary exclamation. But she grows more calm,
for the paroxysm is over. Now, mark the lovely'
serenity which steals over and settles upon her
countenance ! With what a radiant smile of welcome
she greets you ! How heavenly is the expression of
nei now lustrous eyes ! How rich in sublime senti-
28 THE YOUNG LADY's COUNSELLOR.
ment are ihe words which flow from her thin lips
What ardent love, what holy submission, what lofty
spiritual ecstasy, she professes ! As you listen you
are astonished, and in an inward whisper exclaim,
' What a happy creature !
"
Yes, she is happy; for this is no ideal picture, but
a faithful likeness of an actual sufferer. For a
series of years, this dear girl was tormented by vio-lent
convulsions, which, occurring every few hours,
dislocated her joints, and caused an unimaginable
amount of physical agony. Yet, through it all, hei
unrepining spirit triumphed in God. With heroic
constancy she endured her unexampled sufferings
;
and maintained an intercourse with God so elevated
and sublime, that her joys were more unspeakable
than her sufferings. If her physical life was liter-ally
full of anguish, her spiritual life was fuU of
glory ! Her " earth was ice," but her " soul had
summer still."
In contrast with this painting of strong light and
deep shadow, permit me to place another, as sketched
by the brilliant pen of a poet. It is that of minds
THE MISTAKE Or' A LIFETIME. 29
f irrounded by gayety and music, yet miserable in
t'n 9 last degree :
"But midst the throng, in merry masquerade,
Lurk there no hearts that throb with secret pain.
E'en*throug*h the c*losest*cereme*nt half*betrayed ?
To such the gladness of the gamesome crowd
Is source of wayward thought and stern disdain;
How do they loathe the laughter idly loud,
And long to change the robe of revel for the shroud ! "
Here you behold persons not only rejecting what
is pleasurable and joyous in a scene of revelry, but
actually busy at extracting torture from them. They
stand in a circle whose splendid gayety is adapted to
bewitch the senses, while jocund laughter and mirth-inspiring
music ring in their ears, with their hearts
throbbing with keenest anguish, loathing the spec
tacle, and blindly longing for the solitude of the
grrave.
Pray, tell me, lady, why the maiden was happy
under circumstances so adverse and painful, while
these inmates of the hall of pleasure were the victims
of exquisite misery ? The former, though in physi
30 THE VO^;^•G LADY'S COUNSELLOR.
cal torture and pcverty, enjoyed a mental heaveu
the latter, though in an external Eden, suffered a
mental hell. Why this difference? Plainly because,
as we have before affirmed, the mind is its own
heaven or its own hell ; and because, if pleasure
reigns not within- the breast, it cannot come from
without : while, if it is queen within, outward things
may disturb, but cannot destroy its reign. How
consummate, therefore, is the folly of looking out of
the mind for your enjoyment ! How wise and pru-dent
to look within yourself for that happiness which
is at once your aspiration and your privilege
!
The truth unfolded and amplified in this chaptej
may seem so trivial to my reader, that she may be
disposed to toss her little head, and throw down my
book in proud disdain. She can hardly persuade
herself that the difference between looking within oi
without herself for happiness is so great th3> to dc
the latter would be a fatal mistake. But let me
assure her that
•' Things are not wnat they seem ;'*
That little seeming differences often involve almorf
THE MISTAKE OF A LIFETIME. Jl
infinite consequences ; that it is the part of wisdom
to look well at those truths which the heart despises
reme'^bering that
" The poor herb, when all that pomp could bring
Were vain to charm, admits to Oberon's ring ;"
and that a little scorn at little things may blast your
brightest hopes, and tumble your most magnificent
expectations to the dust. It was thus that an ancient
prince of Sardinia lost his own liberty and his
friend's life. He had fallen, by the chance of war,
into the prison of Bologna. Asinelli, his friend,
contrived a plan for his escape. He had him en-closed
in an empty tun which had contained wine.
Trusty friends were waiting, with swift horses, out-side
the city. The tun was being borne along the
passages of the prison. It reached the gates unsus-pected,
when a soldier observed a lock of hair pro-truding
from the barrel ; it was opened, and the
unhappy prince remanded to his dungeon. AsinelU
was banished, and another friend was put to death.
Thus the trifling neglect to conceal a lock of hair
cost years of sorrow to many hearts. Perhaps the
.*i2 THE YOUNG LADY's COUNSELLOR.
men who closed the barrel saw that lock of hair, as
you see this truth; and perhaps they thought, in
their haste, it was hardly worth while to hinder
themselves b)^ stopping to enclose it. If so, hov*
fatal their haste ! It undid their labors, and ruined
their plan. Even so, my dear young friend, a hasiy
contempt for the counsel which teaches you tha*
" earth's real wealth is m the heart," and assures
you that to rely on outward things for happiness is
a fatal mistake, may be ruinous to all that is really
precious in your life and destiny. Receive it, there-fore,
with reflection; follow it with resolution; adhere
to it with determination. Then shall you escape
the experience of an earthly mind, who wrote, iu
the bit^^^erness of his disappointment, that
" Dark to manhood grows the heaven that smiled
On the clear vision nature eare the chiid."
CHAPTEIC n.
THE FOUNTAIN OF LIFE UNSEALED.
PON the loftiest and most rug-ged
peaks of the Alps, a species
of fir-tree is said to flourish
among rocks whose almost utter
destitution of soil refuses support
if to plant or flower. Yet there this
pine-tree grows, defying the barren
soil and the " howling tempests,"
" Till its height ai 1 frame
Are worthy of the mountains from whose blocks
Of bleak gray granite into life it came,
And grew a giant tree."
Whence is the life of this gigantic tree supported ?
The scanty soil, in which its straggling roots scarcely
find a covering, is obviously insufficient. Is it, then
self-supported ? Does its nutriment arise from itself
alone? Nay, for we can hardly conceive how a
i4 THE YOUNG LAUY S COUNSELLOR.
Stripling fir could wax into a " giant tree," without
obtaining the materials of its growth from some
source besides itself. Hence we infer, that, while its
roots exhaust the little nutriment contained in the soil,
Its branches embrace and absorb the atmosphere ; and,
by an invisible process of almost infinite skill, the
tree elaborates the elements of life from its particles.
Thus, while its growth and greatness may be said tc
be from within itself, yet are they not wholly of itself.
'* The mind may do the same." It may enjoy its
healthiest and highest life amidst the most rugged
features of external existence ; for, like the Alpine
fir," it may find invisible elements of support, which,
though not originating in itself, nevertheless spring
up within it as from a fountain of living rapture. If
left wholly dependent upon itself, it could not find
real enjoyment in an Ed(;n of beauty ; for, in fallen
human nature, happiness is not an inborn spring; it
is a living fountain, broujht into the heaitby apower
which, though dwelling in the temple of the soul, is
not of it, but infinitely above it.
Nor is it possil le to attain real enjoyment without
THE FOUNTALV OF LIFE UNSEALED. 35
the presence of this power. In the preceding chapter
I have shown that no height of intellectual greatness,
no elevation of social condition, no amount of terres-trial
wealth, no softness of climate, no beauty of
landscape, —nay, nor all human things combined, —
can, of themselves, enable the unassisted heart to dis-course
sweet music, or attain to blissful tranquillity.
Yet I cannot forbear to fortify this vital point by
another striking example. Hear the confessions of a
wealthy peer of England, — a scholar, a poet, a
traveller, a man in whom every visible condition of
human happiness met, — and learn the total insuffi-ciency
of all to cheer the spirit ; yea, learn how des-olate
a thing is the human heart, when it proudly
leans upon itself alone, in the following melancholy
language, which this " poor rich man " addressed to
nis sister:
" 1 was disposed to be pleased. I am a lover of
nature and an admirer of beauty. I can bear fatigue
and welcome privation, and have seen some of the
noblest views in the world. But in all this, the
recollection of bitterness, and more especially of
JWl THE YOUNG LADY's COU .-SELLOR.
recent and home desolation, which must ace i>. npany
me through life, has preyed upon me here : and
neither the music of the shepherds, the crashing of
the avalanche, nor the torrent, the mountain, the
glacier, the forest, nor the cloud, have for one
moment lightened the weight upon my heart, noi
enabled me to lOse my own wretched identity in the
majesty and the power and glory around, above and
beneath me."
If this sad lament of a weary heart were a solitary
fact in human history, it would not be admissible to
mfer a general principle from it. But it is not.
Every soul that has trusted to itself alone, smce the
world began, has uttered a corresponding wail of
agony ; and it is therefore a fair example of what the
human mind is, when left to its own resources, — a
miserable, empty, wretched thing. Miss Landcn's
harp gave forth a note of truth when it sang
•' The heart is made too sensitive
Life's daWj pain to bear ;
It beats in music, but it beats
Beneath a deep despair."
THE l-OUNTAIN OF LIFE UNSEALED. 3i
What, then, ib the sacred source of true and lasting
uliss ? What is chat which must be brought into the
mind to give genuine enjoyment ? If my youne
friend will humbly take her seat where the beautiful
Mary sat, she shall be taught the mighty secret, in
words of authority, from the lips of Jesus. He says :
' JJ^osoeoer drinkeik of the water that I shall give
him shall never thirst ; but the water tliat I shall give
him SHALL BE IN Hiivi a well of water^ springing up
into eternal life'"'
''''If a iiian love me, fie will keep my words ; and my
Father will love him^ and we will come unto him and
make our abode with him.''^
" / will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice ;
and. your joy no man taketh from you^
" My peace give I unto you^
Here, then, my beloved reader, the great truth
stands out before you. God received into the soul,
by simple faith, is the grand and only source of true
liappiness. He is that fountain of livmg water,
whose streams refresh the weary spirit, and satisfy its
immortal thirst Where he dwells there abide peace,
38 THE ?OUNG lady's COUNSELLOR.
love, joy and hope, in all their beauty : the stow
of passion arise not in His presence. The visible
world, gilded by the rays of His glory, can be really
and innocently enjoyed, because he brings the inter-nal
facuhies into harmony with external things.
The relations of social life can be enjoyed ; theii
duties performed with efficiency and pleasure. The
future is invested with grandeur and glor}^ All the
interests of life are felt to be safe, for they are in the
keeping of God, — of God not afar off in clouds and
darkness, but of God abiding in perpetual spiritual
manifestation within the breast. The beautiful
ideal of the Grecian mythology, concerning the god-dess
whose soft and delicate tread caused the green
herb and lovely flower to spring up on the island of
Cyprus, becomes a literal fact in the experience of .^
christian lady ; for, in whatever soul God enters a
welcomed guest, every lovely plant springs up, and
every beauteous flower grows with divine fertility.
He is "a well of water springing up into eternal
lifer
Can you conceive of any calamity more appalling
THE FOUNTAIN OF LIFE UNSEALED. ']\)
than a widely-spread famine ? How terrible the.
idea, even to the fancy, of a whole nation cut off
f-om its resources by universal sterility I But how
much more so must be the fact itself! With what
fearful eagerness the people watch for signs of rain
!
Yet weeks, months and years pass, and the sky is
clear and cloudless ; the sun glows fiercely m the
neavens; the air is hot and sultry; the earth is
parched and cracked ; every blade of grass, every
herb and every tree, dries up, until all is arid ana
barren as the desert. Nature languishes, and in her
feebleness oppresses her children, until disease and
groaning fill the land, and hecatombs of dead cover
its surface with graves.
Yet, in the certain prospect of such an event, behold
the sublime serenity of the Egyptian nation in the age
of Joseph. The face of the people is gay and cheer-ful.
The voice of song resounds all over the land,
from the hundred gates of Thebes to the mouths of
the Nile. Though the nation was assured that for
seven years the sway of this terrible evil would be
maintained, yet a most absolute fearlessness of death
40 THE YOUNG LADY'S COUNSELLOR
kept every heart strong, and excluded a.Jl apprelien-snn
of serious suffering, alike from the proud pa.dcea
of Pharaoh and the mud hovel of the peasant.
Famine reigned in the land, yet peace dwelt in the
hearts of the people.
Whence arose this astonishing national repos3 m
the midst of so menacing an evil ? Beholf' the
'nimense stores of food with which the vast granaries
'^f the land are groaning ! And, at the head of the
fifovernment, behold the inspired man whose prophetic
wisdom foretold the event,—whose forecast prepared
these almost boundless supplies, and whose wisdom
presides over their distribution ! These facts explain
the great enigma of so much calmness amid so
much that was formidable ! The people knew their
inability to cope with the sterility of nature, but
their reliance on the predictions and ability of Joseph
was so strong they could not fear. Famine might
rage,—they were helpless to resist it; out Joseph had
provided an ample supply for their wants, and they
rejoiced in a happy conscicasnoss of security from
starvation and death.
THE FOUNTAIN OF LIFE UNSEALED. 41
You have no difficulty, my young reader, in
understanding the action of this confidence in ihe
minds of the Egyptians, and that without it they
would have been absolutely wretched. It will there-fore
be easy for you to transfer the idea to your own
necessities and resources. Viewing yourself in your
relations to human society, you cannot fail to per-ceive
much of evil, of danger, and of suffering, before
you. You everywhere behold women whose early
career was as gay, as secure, as promising, as your
own, the v.ctims of heart desolation, of acute suffer-ing,
of neglect, of poverty, — to whom life is as a
desert waste, where suffocating winds sweep rudely
past them, and stifling sands threaten to bury them
in death. In one direction, you see a daughter
thrown upon her own resources by the premature
death of her parents ; in another, a wife, but yester-day
a happy bride, left to indescribable sorrow by the
neglect of an unfaithful husband, or plunged into a
mournful widowhood by the visitation of death
What multitudes of women, who, a little while ago
lejoiced as gayly as the joyous lark in the thought
^ THE YOUNG LADY's COUNSELLOK.
lessness of a happy girlhood, are living in weakness,
toil and sadness, v\eary of life, yet unwilling and unfit
to die ! True, much of this rast amount of female
misery might have been avcaded ; yet, in the full
knowledge of its existence and of your owti weakness,
you cannot avoid the conviction that you are liable
to similar experiences. With the Eg^^ptians you can
see dark forms of evil thronging your path. You
dare not face them alone ! They are calculated tu
affright your spirit. What, then, is necessar}^ to give
you an intelligent and stable peace of mind ? What
to save you from these sufferings and sorrows of youi
sex ? Plainly, you need a confidence like that of the
Egyptians. Your heart must rely upon some power
able and willing to preserve you from such manifest
evils. A friend, who will guide your steps, watch
over and secure your interests, support you in your
trials, and deliver you in trouble, is a necessity of
your nature. Could you be sure of such a friend,
you could gaze upon the ills of life with as fearless a
smile as that with which the people of Pharaoh
looked upon the sterility of their country.
THE FOUNTAIN OF LIFE UNSEALED. 43
But where is the human friend whose qualities are
such as to inspire you with this essential confidence ?
Alas I he is not to be found; for every other mortal is
like yourself exposed to trouble and danger. If it
were otherwise, — if that venerable parent who has
watched your infancy and youth with so much solici-tude,
and in whose love you feel so secure, possessed
the yower to protect you through life,—you know that
the thread on which his existence hangs is more frail
than a lute-string. How, then, can you calmly face
your destiny with such a trust ? You cannot do it
!
You need power, wisdom, love, sympathy, duration,
m the Being on whom your spirit can repose in pel
feet serenity. And who is such a friend but Jeho-vah
? Whose friendship can calm your soul but his ?
What but religious faith can inspire so delightful a
trust ? What is there in the human soul to create
this sense of safety, amidst the unquestionable dan-gers
by which it is surrounded? Nothing! positively
nothing ! Self-reliance is presumptuous arrogance.
1 o trust in man is to pluck the fruit that grows on
•* folly's topmost twig." To be without confidence is
44 THE YOCJNG lady's COJNSELLOR.
to be wretched, whether yuur home be the palace of a
merchant prince, or the cottage of a toiling peasant
To a religious faith, therefore, are y-u shut up. Tii«
point before you is as plain as a self-evident truth °
you must be wretched or religious. Embrace the
faith of Christ, and forthwith a confidence wnll sprinf>
up in your soul which will disarm life of its terrors,
enable you to defy its emergencies, assure you that all
chance is excluded from the government of the world,
that your interests are all safe in the hands of the
infinite God, whose attributes are pledged to promote
your safety. You will then see Omnipotence as the
wall built around you ; infinite resources ready to be
employed in your behalf, and boundless love dis-tributing
the mercies requisite to supply your neces-sities.
Blessed with this sublime trust, you will walk the
ways of life as calmly as the ideal pilgrim, in the
picture of a German artist, whose beautiful painting'
contained a lovely child walking slowly along a nar-row
path, bounded on each side by a lerrific preci-pice,
the edges of which were concealed from him by
THE FOUNTAIN OF LIFE UNSEALED. 45
a luxuriant border of fruits and flowers. Behind this
aifant pilgrim there stood an angel, his white wings
spreading upward into the evening sky, his hands
placed lightly on the shoulders of the little traveller,
as if to guide him safely along the dangerous path.
The child's eyes were closed, that the beautiful flow-ers
and luscious fruit might not tempt him to pause
or step aside ; and he walked calmly forward, smil-ing
ineffable content, as if perfectly satisfied, so long
as he felt the gentle pressure of those angelic hands.
With religious faith you may walk through the evils
of life equally fearless, safe and happy.
Nor is the influence of a religious faith on the
fears of the heart its only relation to your present
enjoyment. It is peculiarly adapted to that compara
tive isolation from active life which falls to the lot
of your sex. Home is woman's world, as well as her
empire. Man lives more in society. The busy
marts of trade, the bustling exchange, the activity of
artisan life, are his spheres. They call forth his
energies, and occupy his thoughts. But woman's
fife is spent in comparative solitude. She is, there-
46 THE YOUNG LADY'S COUNSELLOR.
,'.>re, if possible, more dependent upon her inward
resources than her more stirring companion. And
how is she to feel contented with the lonelmess of
her lot, in spite of that '* longing for sympathy that
belongs to her nature " ? She cannot be, unless she
enjoys the supports of religion. But, with this
divine life within her, she becomes, to use the Ian
guage of the Duchess of Newcastle, " a beautiful
creature, tremblingly alive to the influences of thi^
beautiful world, tremblingly conscious that but a thin
veil separates this actual daily life from the world of
spirits. A being with whom the sense of immortal-ity
is an actual presence, lingering about her bed
and about her path, and whose heart is cheered a?
by the breathings of the air of paradise. Such a
being as this, finding herself unguided and alone
among those of her sex whose talk is of Paris fash
ions, bonnets and balls, — whose lives are worthy of
their conversation, — such a being can lean on no
earthly arm for support, nor look to any earthly
sympathy for comfort. Over her heart God miisJ
breathe the holy calm of his peace."
THE FOUNTAIN OF LIFE UNSEAI ED. 47
And sweet is the calm he breathes, — rich and
exuberant the joy he inspires. While " worldly
women are poor, suffering ones, who wander in the
thorny paths of life, pining for happiness and going
astray after its very shadow," religious women find
an " unspeakable joy " in religion, which enriches
every inferior and earthly pleasure. To them "there
is joy in feeling the first breath of the morning fan-ning
the cheek ; joy in the balm of April sunshine
and showers, and in the flowers of beautiful May.
There is joy in the joyous laugh and the silvery
voice of childhood,—in the romance of youth ere care
shades her heart; there is joy in the breast of the
bride as she gives ' her hand, with her heart in it,'
to her lover; joy in a mother's bosom as she presse'^
her first-born to her breast. Yes, even earth has ns
joys ; but, alas ! they are as fleeting as sunshine, as
perishable as flowers ; but they have also a joy
deeper, fuller, richer, sweeter, imperishable as the
undying spirit,— it is the joy of religious love."
How desirable is this joy to you, my dear young
lady, whose life, in common with that of most of
48 THE YOUNG LADY'S COUNSELLOR.
your sex, must necessarily be spent in comparative
isolation !
In some portions of the frigid zones the inhabit-ants
provide themselves with habitations beneath the
surface of the ground. During their brief summer,
they convey large stores of food and % i to these
subterranean abodes." When winter comes, they
enter them and live peacefully there, indifferent tc
the desolating storms and dreary snows which fall
and rage above their heads. Their home is theii
winter world, and it contains all their little wants
demand. Hence, they live in secure plenty, smiling
at the howling storm which leaves their abode
untouched and safe.
Very similar is the influence of religion in human
life. It makes its possessor independent of outward
circumstances; it enables her to defy the changes of
life. What if friends are false, health decays, for-tune
fails, wasting storms drive furiously around her
head ? Is her happiness lost ? Nay ! for she has
not depended upon friends, health or fortune, for he:
highest pleasure. As superior streams of comfort
THE FOUNTAIN OF LIFE UNSEALED. 49
she has welcomed and enjoyed them, but not as the
fountain of her delight. Their removal, therefore,
leaves her in full possession of her chief good. A
sterile, snowy winter may rage without, but she has
her God within herself, and is satisfied. He is
her world. His presence and favor constitute her
heaven, though her visible life is filled with discom-fcit
and woe. Very strongly, yet very beautifully,-
did an ancient Christian, according to Taulerius,
once express this divine bliss, when a doubting friend
inquired, " What would you do, if God should cast
you into hell ?
"
" Cast me into hell ! God will not do that. But
if he were to cast me into hell, I have two arms,
—
an arm of faith and an arm of love ; with these I
would lay hold on God, and cling to him so firmly
that I would take him with me ! And surely no evil
could befall me there ; for, I would rather be with
God in hell, than to be in heaven without him !
"
This is very strong— perhaps too strong— lan-guage
; yet it nobly expresses the superiority of the
Christian to adverse circumstances, — his independ-
60 THE YOUNG LADY's COUNSELLOR.
ence of human events and troubles. The old [ oet,
Vaughn, has a stanza which is so instinct with thij
spirit of heroic triumph ovlt outward vicissitudes, 1
cannot forbear quoting it. Viewing the Christian in
an era of persecution and martyrdom, he puts these
burning words into his lips :
•' Burn me alive with curious skilful pain,
Cut up and search each warm and breathing vein;
When all is done, death brings a quick release,
And the poor mangled body sleeps in peace.
Hale me to prisons, shut me up in brass,
My still free soul from thence to God shall pass ,
Banish or bind me, I can be nowhere
A stranger or alone, — my God is there.
I fear not famine. How can he be said
To starve, who feeds upon the living bread ?
And yet this courage springs not from my store, •
Christ gave it me, who can give much more."
How desirable, in a world so changeful as this,
that a young lady, so feeble and so exposed, should
possess this hidden peace from Christ, which neither
creature nor circumstance can take from her
!
Perhaps, lady, you are a lover of music. The
piano is your favorite instrument, from whose keys
THE FOUNTAIN OF LIFE UNSEALED. 51
you draw many pleasant sounds. Permit me to give
you a lesson upon it. You know it contains many
wires, all of which are called into use at times, and
are necessary" to its perfection. Each of these wires
has its ouTi peculiar sound, which it must render
precisely, else a discord jars on your ear, and destroys
the harmony of the music. To create and to pre-serve
this harmony, it has to be submitted to the
skilful hand and ear of the tuner ; otherwise, as a
musical instrument, it would fail to afford you pleas-ure.
However costly in its materials and mag-nifi-cent
in its external finish, you would only be pained
by its presence, so long as its tuneless state forbade
you to touch a key. But, once in perfect tune, you
enjoy exquisite delight, as its delicious melody fills
your enraptured ear.
It is thus with your mind. It has various (unc-tions
and qualities, intellectual and moral, each of
which IS designed to act in a specific manner; and
which miist so act, to constitute you happy in your-self,
and an instrument of good to society. But, like
the piano, the mind is out of tune. Though in-
52 THE YOUNG LADY's COUNSELLOR.
tensely pained by the discords it utters, it neverthe-less
continually produces them. It requires tuning
therefore, or it must be a self-tormenting thing o*
discords forever—magnificent in its construction, glo-rious
in its powers, yet failing to attain the sublime
end of its creation. To drop my comparison, the
mind is unable of itself to develop those qualitiefj
which are necessary to its own enjoyment, and to its
right influence over others. And nothing less than
the power of religion can repress its evil tendencies,
and develop its superior qualities. As the tuner of
instruments may justly say of the piano, " without
me it is nothing," so does Christ actually say to
you, lady, "without me ye can do nothing." Christ,
and Christ alone, is sufficient to clothe you with that
loveliness of moral character which will cause your
life to pass happily to yourself and to be beneficial to
others. How else can your life be
" A sacred stream.
In whose calm depths the beautiful and pure
Alone are mirrored " ?
How else can you acquire that guileless ingenu-
THE FOUNTAIN OF LIFE UNSEALED 53
Ausiiess, that dignity combined with tenderness, that
prudent reserve unmixed with haughtiness, that calm
patriotism so modest and yet so heroic, that couragt
without fierceness, that energy without rashness, that
purity without a spot, that earnest self-denying
Industr}^ that vvise forecast, that prudent economy,
that constellation of high moral qualities, whose mild
light sweetly gilds the gloom of external circum-stances,
and makes woman a "spotless form of
beauty,"—arms her with power to move the soul, to
wm the affections, to attain the ideal excellence of
*^chiller's Queen Elizabeth of Spain, who moved
" With inborn and unboastful majesty,
Alike from careless levity remote
And a behavior schooled by selfish rules,
Alike removed from rashness and from fear.
With firm and fearless step she ever walked
The narrow path of duty — all unconscious
That she won worship, where she never dreamed
Of approbation"?
Qualities like these can grow to harmonious per-fection
by nothiLg less than God in your sour.
Their semblances may be produced by simple self-
54 THE YOUNG LADY's COUNSEII.OR.
culture ; but they will be only as jewels of paste
compared with genuine stones. His presence will
adorn you with genuine excellence, render you inde-pendent
of life's changing joys, satisfy you, anu
enable you to extract what of pure pleasure exists in
garthly things. Thus may your life pass,
•' That every hour
Shall die as dies a natural flower—
A self-reviving thing of power ;
Thai every thought and every deed
May hold within itself the seed
Of future yood and future need."
CHAPTEE m.
IT5FLUENCE.
1^ ATHER UP MY INFLTJENCE, ANP
BURY IT WITH ME ! " exclaimed a
youth, whose unforgiven spirit was
sinking into the invisible world.
^ Idle request ! Had he begged his
friends to bind the free winds, to
chain the wild waves, to grasp the fierce
lightning, or make a path for the sand-blast,
his wish would have been more
feasible ; for past influence is unchangeable.
The sceptical thought that fell as v Feed of
evil from the lip and grew in the heart of the
listener into defiant infidelity, the light woid that
pierced the spirit like a poisoned dart, the angry
glance which stirred the soul to anguish and made
tears flow at the midnight hcur, are alike beyond
56 THE YOUNG LADY'S COUNSELLOR.
our reach. The mind thus wounded sighs on, and
after we are dead the chords vibrate which our fin-gers
touched. The measure of that influence, for
weal or woe, will lie hidden, a terrible secret, until
the day when the spirit, blindly driven to despair
and guilt, or blasted by sceptical thought, shall stand
writhing and wretched to confront those by whom
the offence came, and to teach that injlueiice is ivi-mutable
and eternal I
Such are the fearful sentiments contained in a
fugitive poem which once met my eye. They are
thoughts peculiarly adapted to the consideration of a
young lady ; for, whatever may be her grade in
society, her talents or opportunities, it is a necessary
condition of her existence that she mus* exert this
potential thing we call influence. It is not a matter
of choice. She cannot say she will not exercise it,
for she must. From ever}^ glance of her eye, every
word of her lips, every act of her life, there goe'
forth, in a greater or less degree, an invisible povvei,
which pi'oduces an effect upon the minds around her.
This power to affect others is influence. It is a g\\.\
INFLUENCE. 67
of Keaven to every human being. Whether it shall
be productive of evil or good, is for each possessor to
determine. It is like the rod of Moses, which was
either the prolific instrument of plague and woe, or
the means of driving evil and destruction from the
land, as the inspired will of its great owner deter-uiined.
Thus with this precious gift. It may scat-ter
pestilence, desolation and death, or it may bring
forth life and beauty ; it may be a harp of sweetest
melody, making glad the heart of the world, or it
may be a discordant trumpet, rousing the passions
of mankind to angry and tempestuous strife, as its
possessor may decide.
Will you imagine yourself in one of the vast
cathedrals of Europe ? Behold its spacious aisles
and lofty galleries, crowded with masses of specta-tors
of all ranks and of every age^ from the gray-bearded
patriarch of eighty to the fawn-like girl of
five or six. Suppose yourself placed before the keys
of its magnificent organ, and required to execute a
piece of music, with the information that certain
keys, bearing particular marks, huve the power, if
58 THE yOJNG lady's COUNSELLOR.
impropeny touched, of producing violent pains in iKe
audience, which no medical science could assuage oi
cure ; while, if they are skilfully touched, their
delightful melody will create the most exquisite
sensations of enduring pleasure. In such a position,
would you not exert your utmost powers to avoid
those movements which would thrill your auditory
with anguish ? Would you not enter, with grave
earnestness, upon those which would be followed
with bursts of joy ? Y^our ardent response is in
your heart and eye ; and you almost wish for the
opportunity of choosing between such alternatives.
If my previous remarks are true, you have not
only such an opportunity, but one of far higher and
nobler character. By a proper use of this more than
fairy gift of influence, you can call into existence
emotions of pure delight, capable of infinite self-mul-tiplication
in the multitude of human spirits which
will come within your sphere during your lifetime.
By neglecting the proper use of your gift, you will
create agonies of equal curation and intensity. Can
you, therefore, refuse a few moments of grave thought
INFLUENCE. 59
fulness to so weighty a point? What if life is young,
and its paths are strewed with flowers ? What if
the current of your ordinary ideas runs in a contrary
direction ? What if a due sense of the true respons-ibilities
of life should restrain, in some degree, the
gayety of your spirits ? Are you, therefore, to
trample upon the happiness of others ? Are you to
peril your own best interests ? Remember, as is
your influence, so is your destiny. There is a woe
for those who suffer from evil influence ; but a
heavier, direr woe for her " by whom the offence
Cometh." Consider, therefore, my dear young lady,
with a seriousness worthy of your immortal nature,
and a gravity beyond your years, the bearings of this
momentous question. Resolve, in the silent depths
of your reflecting spirit, "I will take care of my
influence !
"
Transport your mind back, through departed time,
some thousand years, and enter with me one of the
royal castles of England. Within one of its turret
chambers behold a youthful bride, the daughter of an
emperor, the wife of a king. Why is she secluded
80 THE YOUNG La DY s OOTji^SELLOR.
here, while the old halls of the castle are resounding
with the merry voices of high-born youths and noble
ladies ? What is her occupation ? Let that antique
volumr of illuminated manuscripts, containing the
gems of Saxon poetry, be your answer ! She finds
her pleasure not in the idle pastimes of an ignorant
court, but 'u the study of polite literature. She is
devoted to the duty of self-culture to the full extent
of her means and opportunities. Now, as we gaze
on this enthusiastic young woman, it would appear
romantically improbable, if I were to predict that her
influence would lead to the elevation of England
from a state of semi-barbarism, obscurity and impo-tency,
to a position so potential and commanding an
to make her feared, envied and admired, by all the
other nations of earth. Yet what would have then
seemed romantic as a prediction, is now an historical
fact. For this lady's name is Judith, the step-mother
of that great prince, Alfred, whose talents
and genius laid the foundations of England's legal,
commercial and intellectual superiority. And it was
to Judith he was indebted for the first awakening of
INFLTJENCE. 61
his intellectual life, the development of his noble
qualities, and the formation of his splendid character
Hence, but for the influence of this superior princess,
Alfred would never have been what he was, and his
country would never, perhaps, have achieved the
stupendous greatness which it now possesses, by
which it does, and will, perhaps to the end of time,
affect the destinies of the world.
The design of this illustration is to remove from
your mind that incredulity which arose in it as you
read my remarks concerning the immense extent and
duration of individual influence. You thought it
impossible that you, a young lady, could possess
such a fearful power for good or ill. Had the
youthful Judith been told the precise results of her
influence on the w^orld, she would have ridiculed the
statement, and have pronounced its author insane.
Yet the'-e stands its living record, in the history and
condition of the British nation. And, since a cor-responding
power resides in your soul, who can
;magine the fathomless depths of the consequences
which are yet to proceed from its exercise ? Your
62 THE YOUNG LADY's COUNSELLOR.
sex, instead of shielding you from the necessity of
exerting such power, exposes you to it in the strong-est
manner ; for it brings you in contact with mind
when in its most impressible state, and when your
mfluence over it is abounding, and almost absolute.
You think, perhaps, if you were of the other sex, and
your sphere was with warriors, statesmen and magis-trates,
on the public arena of life, there might be at
least a possibility of your casting a stone into the
sea of humanity, whose ever enlarging influence
would be seen circling immeasurably far into the
misty future. But your sphere is private, limited
and feminine, and cannot afford scope for such
results, you think. Vain thought ! You are a sis-ter,
and may mould a brother's mind to virtue and to
usefulness. You are a daughter, and for your sake
your father may put forth efforts of unbounded
might. You may hereafter bear the honored Hdii.e
of wife, and the more sacred one of mother. Your
vjfluence may then determine the character of your
husband, and fix the destiny of your children. It
may make your son an Augustine, a \Vashington,
INFLUENCE. 63
an Oberlin, a Wesley; or it may le^ve him to jurse
his race; with pestiferous teachings, like Socinus oi
Murray, with wars of ambition, like Napoleon, of
with a baleful legacy of infidelity and vice, like
Flume or Carlyle. For who can imagine that if
Monica had been an irreligious woman, Augustine
would have been a holy bishop? If Washington's
mother had not inspired him with the principles of
self-denying patriotism, his country might have
found him a tyrant, mstead of a father. And but for
the sterling qualities found in the mothers of Oberlin
and Wesley, the name of the former would never
have adorned the annals of benevolence with such
enchanting beauty ; nor would the latter have erect-ed
that vast ecclesiastical fabric, whose strong and
rapid growth is the greatest moral wonder of the last
century. Say not, therefore, that because you are a
woman your influence must be limited, but remeni-ber
that your sex places you at the head-waters of
the great river of humanity, where a pebble mav
change the direction of the streamlet.
It is said that a little boy in Holland was return-
64 THE YOUNG LADV'S COUNSELLOR
ini^ one night from a village, to which he nr.d \nien
sent by his father on an errand, when he observed
the water trickling through a narrow opening in the
dyke. He paused, reflected on the consequence?
that might follow if that aperture was not closed.
He knew, for he had often heard his father relate the
sad disasters proceeding from such small begiimings,
that in a few hours that opening would enlarge, and
let in the mighty mass of waters pressing on the
dyke, until, the whole defence being washed away
the adjacent village would be destroyed. Should he
hasten home and alarm the villagers, it would be
dark before they could arrive, and the orifice might
even then, be so large as to defy attempts to close it.
Prompted by these thoughts, he seated himself on
the Dank of the canal, stopped the opening with hia
hand, and patiently awaited the approach of some
villao-er. But no one came. Hour after hour rolled
slowly past in cold and darkness, yet there sat the
heroic boy, shivering, wet and weary, but stoutly
pressing his hand against the dangerous breach At
last the mornmg broke. A clergj^man, walking i t-
INFLUENCE. 65
the cana! heard a groan and sought for its autlior.
' Why ire you here, my child ? " he asked, surprised
ai 5he boy's position.
" T am keeping back the water, sir, and 'aving the
vi^^'^cre from being drowned," responded the child,
w!th lips so benumbed with cold they could scarcely
•irticuiate the words.
The astonished minister relieved the boy. The
dyke was closed, and the danger which had threat-ened
hundreds of lives averted. "Heroic boy I wha^
a noble spirit of self-devotedness he displayed !
" you
exclaim. True ; but what was it that sustained him
in his mission through that lonesome night ? Why
when his lips chattered, his limbs trembled and his
heart palpitated, did he not fly to the warmth and
safety of home? What thought bound him to his
seat? Was it not the responsibility of his position '
Did he not restrain every desire to leave it, by the
thought of what would follow, if he should < His
mind pictured the quiet homes and beautiful farms
of the people inundated by the flood of waters, and
ae determined to maintain his position or to die
66 THE YOUNG LADY's COUNSELLOR.
And ought not the higher and more weighty respons-ibility
of your position — possessing, as you do, the
power to turn a tide of endless death, or a stream of
perennial life, upon the pathway of mankind — to
beget in you a purpose, stern, resolute, inflexible, lo
be true to your position, and to use your influence
for good, *ind not for evil? Say not of yourself, in
careless, self-abandonment to circumstances,
" I am as a weed
Flung from the rock, on ocean's foam to sail
Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail.'
But take your stand before the world, with an hi-vincible
determination— with
" An earnest purpose for a generous end."
Consecrate your influence to virtue, to humanity
to God. Thus in your life, you shall be " like a
star glittering in its own mild lustre, undimmed by
the radiance of another, and uneclipsed by the deep
shades of the midnight heavens."
In that remarkable work, entitled the "Connection
of the Physical Sciences," by Mary Somerville 1
INFLUENCE. 6"7
6nd this interesfing example of the cohesive power
cy which the atoms of material substances are held
together. The manufacturers of plate glass, after
polishing the large plates of which mirrors are to be
made, carefully wipe them and lay them on their
edffes, with their surfaces resting- on one another. It
not unfrequently happens, that, in a short time, the
cohesion is so powerful they cannot be separated
without breaking. Instances have occurred where
two or three have been so perfectly united, that they
nave been cut and their edges polished, as if they
had been fused together : and so great was the force
required to make their surfaces slide, that one tore
off a portion of the surface of *he other !
How mighty must be that force, which, acting on
these plates, binds them in inseparable unity ! The
same cohesion unites the particles of our globe, and is
the force that prevents it from crumblmg into atoms.
But, mighty as it is, it is invisible. How it acts, no
mind has yet discDvered. We see its effects, but we
cannot perceive us operations. Yet who is so fool-hardy
as to deny Its existence, because it refuses to
68 THE YOUNG LADl S COUNSELLOR.
reveai its presence, or unfold the mystery of tij
action ? Nay, we concede it as a fact demonsti. ..d
by eveiy material substance that meets our eyes.
By similar evidence — that of facts— we are cr^
ppiled to admit that powerful influences are exeue-i
by one mind upon another. These facts are or3'
whelming, both in number and in weight. Yet wh
can perceiv^e the transmission of influence ? Offei
when we are utterly unconscious of what we do, oth
ers are receiving indelible impressions from oui
vvords, looks or actions, — impressions which will
affect their destiny, and that of the world, forever.
We forget this, and act without respect to others, in
a great degree, because we do not see the power we
exert. A young lady, who would shrink appalled at
the idea of daily puncturing her brother's eye with a
•Qeedle, to the destruction of his sight, will breathe a
spirit of discontent, pride and folly, into his mind ;
and thus, by disturbing his happiness at home drive
him to seek congenial society abroad, where his mor-als
grow depraved, his character is lost, and his soul
ruined. This fearfui lesult she brings about, without
INFLUENCE. 69
, sigh of regret or a pang of sorrow. When the evi]
»ork is done, she weeps over the wTeck, and would
2"ive the gold of the world to restore the fallen one.
Vet for her share in causing this destruction she sheds
not a tear ; indeed, she is unconscious that any por-tion
of the blame lies at her door. Her influence
was silent and invisible when in exercise, and 3'et it
drove her brother to ruin.
Another peculiarity of influence is the distance of
the effect from the cause. Vears will often elapse
between the sowing of the seed and the ripening of
the fruit — between the uttered thought, the angiy
{glance, or the decisive act, and its result. Longfel-low
has a beautiful illustration of this, in one of his
poems. He bids you stand on the bright green-sward
! Shoot an arrow into the air ! You watch
Its upward flight, as it cleaves the sky; but its fall is
so swift that your eye fails to detect its resting-place.
Vou search in vain to find it, and pronounce it lost.
Long, long afterward, while wandering over the field,
you perceive the lost shaft entire, sticking in an
aged oak.
70 THE YOUNG LADY'S COUNSELLv)R.
Again : you breathe a sweet song into the air. It
falls, you know not, think not, where ; but long, long
afterwards, you may find it in the heart of a friend !
It is thus with influence, for good or evil. Its con-sequences
are often hidden from the eye for many
years, iviany of them— j)erhaps the most— vvill re-main
thus secret until the day which will discover
to a universe the thing? that were done in public or
m private life.
Picture to your mind n young mother, with her little
boy scarce seven years old. She lifts him from his
couch in the morning, and with mild words bids him
kneel and say his infant prayers. Obediently he
drops upon his knees. With upraised hands, closed
eyes, and gentle voice, he sends up his oft-repeated
petition. Presently he is silent. Then, with her
hands softly resting upon his head, a voice of touch-ing
melody, and a heart overflowing with true mater-nal
love, she breathes a holy prayer for her child.
Sweet is the air of that chamber; delightful the
emotions of that little bosom ; and pure is the love
with which he embraces his devoted mother, when
INFLUENCE. 71
their matin prayers are ended. At the vesper liour
this scene is repeated ; and thus, day by day, this
pious vvotiian strives to bring down holy influencea
upon her child's heart. Before her boy has well
passed his seventh year, however, she is called by
the angel of death to the spirit land, little dreaming
of the immense power and duration of her influence
hereafter to be exercised over the world through that
boy. Yet, in after years, her pure image haunted
his memory, rebuking his vices and beckoning
him to the ways of virtue and religion, until he
kneeled at the cross of Christ. He became an elo-quent
and successful minister, an author and a
sacred poet. Through his labors, Claudius Buchan-an,
one of the apostles of missionary effort in India,
and the instrument of awakening the attention of
that great Burmese missionary, Judson, to the wants
of India, was converted. Through nwn, also, Scott,
the commentator, was led to Christ, and to the
consequent production of his valuable commentary.
Another of his converts was Wilberforce, the
champion of African freedom, and the author of that
72 THE VOITNG [-AOY li COUNSELLOR.
" Practical Vieiv of Christianity,'' which, among
other o^reat results, brought Lev^h Richmond into the
ranks of Christian disrjplcship, and inspired him
with that heavenly spirit which fitted hini to write
that most useful of tracts, " The Dairyman s Dangh-terl''
That boy was the Rev. Joh\ Newton, and
that woman was his mother. Flow immeasurable
was the influence she exerted in that solitary cham-ber,
so silently, and through the heart of a child !
Vet it was long before it began to yield its fruit.
For nearly twenty years it was apparently dead Jn
his heart ; but it sprung forth at last, and was, as we
have shown, superabundantly fruitful.
An example of evil influence, working througlt
centuries of time, and upheaving like a volcano, long
after its author slept in death, is found in the case of
Louisa of Savoy, the mother of Francis the First,
King of France. She lived when the Reformation
begim to unfold its energies on the soil of France.
For a moment it commanded her attention ; it seized
on her convictions, but obtamed no hold upon liei
depraved affections. The Princess Margaret, her
IKtLUENCE. 73
daughter, with other noble ladies, the aristocratic
Bishop of Meaux, and several eminent scholars, em-braced
it with fervor, and labored for it with zeal.
[t needed only the friendship of Louisa to secure its
triumph. For a time she permitted it to spread
unchecked ; but when her son Francis had endan-gered
the stability of his throne, and lay a prisoner
of war in Spain, political considerations decided this
dissolute queen-mother to assume an attitude' of per-secuting
hostility towards it. She invoked the spirit
of persecution, set the unhallowed machinery of the
inquisition in motion, and thus began that terrible
process of cruelty, which, after centuries of conflict
and bloodshed, succeeded in extirpating it from the
soil. Sad have been the consequences to France.
The Reformation expelled, infidelity sprung up, rank
and poisonous ; it became the animating spirit of the
people, until, mad with its excitement, they waded
through pools of blood to the altar of reason, and
daringly defied the God of heaven. It is by no
means difficult to see the connection between the
aiiarchical proceedmgs of modern France and the
74 THE YOUNG LADY*S COUNSELLOI
conduct of Louisa of Savcy. it was in her power
to confirm and establish the Reformation, and thus
give blessing, honor and prosperity, to her country ;
she chose to persecute it. Her spirit was transr. lif-ted
to posterity, and lives, in its most baleful effects,
at the present hour. How truly has influence been
compared to the bubbling spring, which dances up
from a little crevice in a mountain recess, and sends
forth a -tinkling stream, so small that a "single ox,
on a summer's day, could drink it dry." Yet it
speeds unnoticed on its way, levying contributior^
upon its sister springs, and mingling with other
streams, until it acquires force sufficient to cut itself
a bioad, deep pathway between the hills; and lo I
hundreds of miles from its source, it flows in impos-ing
magnificence, bearing proud navies on itf' ample
Dosom, until, with resistless impetuosity, it rushes
into the vast waters of the " boundless sea."
I fancy—perhaps I am mistaken— that your mind
refuses to feel the full impression concerning the
importance of individual influence which the facts
herein described are calculated to produce, because
INFLUENCE. /O
of the CO iparative obscurity of youi sphere. You
say to yourself, " Were I a princess or a queen, I
might, like Judith or Louisa, set in motion immuta-ole,
potent and immortal influences ; but I move in a
narrower sphere, and such things are impossible for
me."
Reason not thus, young lady, 1 pray you, lest you
throw off" a sense of responsibility that it were better
to retain. It is influence that is thus powerful, not
the influence of those in high stations. The effect
of their conduct is more easily traced, because it
works through public affairs. But the influence of a
beggar girl is as potential in her sphere as is that of
a queen in her more enlarged circle. Wealth, tui-tion,
talent, may add to the force and extent of influ-ence,
but they cannot create it. It is an attribute of
your nature, inseparable from it, inherent in it
Obscurity cannot prevent its exercise. The possible
consequences of your actions upon others are as
measureless as those that proceed from the acts of
that puissant lady, Queen Victoria. They may be
equally, nay, tran'cendently more precious, even
76 THE YOUNG LADY S COUNSELLOR.
though you are a lonely orphan girl, dependent upon
others for your support. That timely word of affec-tionate
interest for her lord, dropped by the Syrian
damsel in the ear of her mistress, is an example. It
brought health to a great warrior, — it led him to a
knowledge of the true God ; to the spread of the
Divine name ; and it has lived through centuries,
stimulating untold thousands to speak words of love
and to do deeds of benevolence. Obscurity has no
power, therefore, to neutralize this gift. If you exist,
you must exert power over others, for weal or woe.
At the close of a summer's day, a group of laugh-mg
girls sat on the steps of a pavilion which stood, a
summer residence, in the midst of beautiful grounds.
The air rung with their merry voices, and the groves
echoed back their laughter. " What," said one of
them, " should we choose for our lot, if some good
(airy should stand before us, and grant us each a
wish?"
" I would choose to be a countess, with my hawks
and hounds to hunt withal," cried one, her dark eye
gleaming with the pride which inspired the wish.
INFLUENCE. 7*7
" I would found a college," said another, whoso
ample brow and intelligent features proclaimed her
own love of literature.
" I would build a hospital that should be a house
of refuge for the poor, and a home for the sick, —
where love might soothe their pains and lighten their
burden of sorrow," replied a third, while a tear of
benevolence, sparkling in her eye, declared the ten-derness
of the heart that prompted this wish.
" And if I were married, I would— "
A loud laugh interrupted this fourth speaker. It
came from the father of the girls, who, unperceived,
had approached the party, and overheard their
wishes. After some exclamations of surprise had
died away, the father, who was no less a personage
than the famous Sir Thom^^s A] ore, announced hL
purpose to grant the wish of his daughter Mercy,
and build a hospital. The hospital was erected and
many a disconsolate heart found shelter and comfort
withm its walls. So potent was that wish, idly
uttered in a moment of girlish gayety.
The lesson inscribed on this fact is the uncer-
78 THE YOUNG LADY's COUNSELLOR.
tainty winch attaches to the particular acts of life.
It shows a careless word prolific of highly beneficial
results, bringing joy lO many hearts. In like man-ner,
a careless wora may do evil. Hence, we never
know the real importance of our own acts. We can-not
judge which of them will be most influential. A
truth that invests every detail of life with moral
grandeur, and demands the liveliest attention to our
minutest actions.
Permit me, young lady, to ask you how you are
to wield this tremendous element of power, with ben-efit
to others, unless you do it by the aid of Divine
grace ? How can you consecrate it to goodness, un-less
the Almighty Spirit of goodness imparts the
power? How can you attain the wise thoughtful-ness,
the lofty aim, the unselfish motive, the resolute
will, so essential to right influence, unless from the
indwelling of the Holy Spirit of love, wisdom and
purity? How can you, so weak, so thoughtless, so
inexperienced, safely guard and rightly expend, this
priceless treasure; in your own unassisted strength ?
It is impossible ! You could as easily create an
INFLUENCE. 79
archangel with a word, as to rightly exert year influ-enr.
e without the religion of Jesus Christ. Reject
him, and retributive justice will write anathema on
your influence. You shall feed on its terrible fruit
forever As a spectre, with your name written in
distortion on its face, it shall stand before you. It
shall draw the curtain of your couch when you sleep
and extend you an ice-cold hand. It will stand
before you at the hour of death, and thrust aside your
.ast prayer. It will stand upon your grave in the
resurrection, and at your side when God shall judge
you.^ But, by embracing Christ, the will, the mo-tive,
the power to consecrate your influence to benefi-cent
ends, will be given you. You will move as an
angel of goodness on earth. Your influence, living
after your death, will remain
" A rill, a river, and a boundless sea,"
upon whose waters numberless trophies shall be
borne, to adorn your triumph when you take youi
place among the victors in the kingdom of God.
* See Schiller.
OfiAPTER lY
THE TRUE SPHERE OF WOMAN.
HE heroic achievements of ihe
shepherdess of Domremi, Joa > of
Arc, are no doubt familiar tc my
young reader. Her imaginary in-
C^ spiration; her enthusiastic persist-ence
in the execution of her supposed
mission ; her daring courage, as, armed
cap-a-pie and mounted on a fiery war-
''^^ horse, she led the embattled hosts of
^ France to victory; her success, her sincer-ity,
her melancholy fate,—have awakenea
your wonder, your admiration, and your pity. Her
romantic elevation from the peasant's hut to the pal-aces
of kings, her brilliant but brief career, her as-tounding
influence over proud ecclesiastics, haughty
nobles and gr'^at princes, her unquestionable and sue-
THE TRUE SPHERE OF WOMAN. 9i
cessful patriotism, are written indelibly upon jour
imagination But I am bold to presume that with
all your surprise at her deeds, you have never really
laved her character Not that there is nothing lovely
in it ; but her masculine attitude casts so deep d
shadow upon her more womanly qualities, you feel
f.onstrained to withhold your love. You cannot sym-pathize
with a woman warrior. Her position, as a
military leader and combatant, unsexes her before
your feelings, and you rank her with the anomalies
of your sex.
On the contrar}^, you can contemplate the charac-ter
of Hannah More with a truly affectionate regard
— albeit she too was a patriotic defender and savior
of her nation. You can contemplate her amiable
spirit, heaving with anxious concern at the dangers
which hung over her country, at a period when revo-lution
and anarchy threatened its institutions. You
can study her mind laboring to discern a method by
which she could aid in warding ofT the impending
danger. You can witness her studious labors with
the pen, and read her earnest appeals to the loyalty
82 THE YOUNG LKDY's COTTNSET T OR.
and good sense of the English people, through her
popular tracts. You can trace the success of these
appeals in the altered feelings of thousands toward
the government, and in the constitutional and peace-ful
reforms subsequently brought to pass in that
country. You can hear her named, by the voice of
Fame, as having been one of the principal instru-ments
of saving the nation, — but no repugnant feel-ing
rises in your breast toward her. You can
admire her talents, her patriotism, wonder at her
success, and, withal, you can ardently love her char-acter.
While Joan of Arc lives in your imaghiation,
Hannah More occupies a place in your affectiojis.
For this difference in your feelings, you are not
icsponsiDle. Your repugnance to the character of
Joan of Arc, and your affectionate regard for that of
iVliss More, are alike instinctive. They both flow
trom the constitution of your nature. They are not
peculiar to your own mind, nor to your own sex.
There are few, if any, mmds uninfluenced by pecu-liar
opinions, that would not be similarly affected at
OQcc, by aa ire partial vie\* of these two chaiacteca.
IdE TRUE SPHERE OF \V0?IA:\\ 85
Ihe same remarks are applicable to all othei women
of corresponding qualities. Who, for example, can
lOve the masculine energy of that really strong-minded
woman, Queen Elizabeth ? Her qualities,
great and high as they were, cannot command our
affections, even though she stands before us as the
" good Queen Bess." So with Martha Glar, the
Swiss heroine, who led over two hundred women to
the field of Frauenbrun and to death, in defence of
liberty ; with Jael, the destroyer of Sisera ; and with
every other woman who has stepped over the sphere
which nature, with unerring wisdom, has assigned to
her sex. While Volumnia and Virgilia, the mother
and wdfe of Coriolanus, who saved their country by
affectionate appeals to the love and patriotism of that
indignant warrior, — Lady Jane Grey, who chose
imprisonment and death rather than to shed English
blood in defence of her claims,—and even Queen Vic-toria,
in whom the woman is mere prominent than
the queen, with hosts of others, who have blended true
womanly qualities with great and heroic deeds, live in
tbe affections of both sexes. How clear, therefore, is
84 THE vouNG lady's counsellor.
f.ie truth, that women in their proper sphere can man«
ifcst noble qualities, and be appreciated ; but women
out of their sphere, while their deeds may command
partial adm.iration, cannot be beloved or appreciated
like the former. And this is not the result of con
ventional habits or opinions. It is a law of the
human mind, from which there can be no successful
appeal. If nature designed men and women to move
in one and the same sphere, this intuitive repug-nance
toward masculine ladies would be unknown.
They would rather be hailed with acclamation and
viewed with pleasure, as models for their sex.
I should not have intruded the question of wo-man's
sphere upon your attention, young lady, but
for the claims so notoriously set up by a certain class
of modern agitators in favor of what is technically
called "woman's rights." These invaders of ancient
ideas, who appear to regard everything as erroi
which has the sanction of antiquity, and everything
as truth which is nove' would lead you on a vain
crusade, for political, governmental and ecclesiastical
parity, with the other sex. The ballot-box, tht
THE TRUE SPHERE OF WOIMAN. Sh
hustings, the bar, the halls of legislation, the offices
of state, the pulpit, are demanded as fitting arenas
for the exercise of your talents. There ought to be
no barrier in your way to any position in s jciety
whatever, merely because you are a woman. An-you
are wronged, injured and proscribed, so long a.
you are debarred, either by law or prejudice, from
entering any sphere you may prefer. Such are the
claims set up and advocated for your sex, by those
who would have you not a woman, but an Amazon.
Against these views I know that your woman's
nature utters its indignant protest, which is endorsed
with equal emphasis by your physical constitution.
And the voice of that sacred charter of woman's
rights, — her great emancipator, — the Gospel of Je-sus
Christ, supports this protest of your nature, and
rebukes the audacity of these modern innovators.
The Saviour, while he invited woman to listen to his
voice, permitted her to minister to his comfort, and
to hover, like an angel of love, about his path of sor-row,
never called her to his side as an apostle, nor
Bent her forth as a public teacher of mankind. His
8b THE rouNG lajy's counsellor.
truth, entering her gentle spirit, added lustre to her
virtues, and consecrated her skill to deeds of mercy.
It produced a Mary, with her meek loveliness; a
Dorcas, with her benevolent care for the poor ; a
Lyuia and an "elect lady," with their noble hospi-tality.
It made delicate and trembling girls heroic
martyrs ; but it never produced a bold declaimer, at.
Amazonian disputant, nor a shameless contender for
political and ecclesiastical rights. It elevated her,
but left her in her own sphere. It increased her
influence, but it never changed her mission. Neither
does the Gospel intimate that at the climax of its
triumph it will remove her from her distinct and
appropriate sphere.
Permit me, by way of illustrating another feature
of this question, to lead you into the sitting-room of
a respectable and pious lady. She is neatly but
plainly attired, and is busy, with the aid of a servant,
dusting and cleaning the room. The door-bell rings,
nnd the girl hastens to see who is the visitor. She
finds the lady's pastor at the door, and, without cere-mony,
ushers him into the sitting-room. The lady's
THE TRUE SPHERE OF WOMAN. 87
face is suffused with blushes, as she coni isedly lays
aside her dusting-brush, and offers her hand to the
minister, saying, " Sir, 1 am ashamed you should
find me thus."
" Let Christ, when he cometh, find me so doing,"
replies her pastor.
" What, sir ! do you wish to be found in this em-pioyment?"
earnestly inquires the astonished lady.
" Yes, madam, I wish to be found faithfully per-forming
the duties of my mission, as I have found
you fulfilling yours."
And was not the minister right ? He recognized
a great, but a despised truth. He saw as high a
moral importance in the humble task of the lady as in
the missions of Gabriel to the ancient prophets : for
both did the will of God in their respective spheres
;
and diversity of sphere does not necessarily involve
real inferiority in the employment. The lady in her
home could exhibit an affection as true, and an obe-dience
as sincere, as the angel in his sphere. It
would V>e difficult to show wherein her employment
*as morally and necessarily inferior to his, inasmuch
65 THE YOUNG LADYN COUNSELLOR.
as the character of an act dt-rives all its moial great
ness, not from the sphere ot the actor, but from its
conformity to the will of God,
Do you perceive the bearing of my illustration
upon trie question of woman's sphere ? It shows you
that your sex is not necessarily inferior to the other
because it is calh.Hl, by God and nature, to act in a
different sphere. Your exclusion from the stage of
public life does not imply your inferiority,—only the
diversity of your powers, functions and duties, in-deed,
it would defy the loftiest powers to show
wherein the work, the mission or the sphere of
woman, is a whit beneath that of her more bustling
and prominent companion — man.
What is the sphere of woman ? Home. The
social circle. What is her mission ? To mould
character,— to fashion herself ana others after the
model character of Christ. What are her chief
inoiruments for the accomplishment of her great
work? The affections. Love is the wand by which
she is to work moral transformations within her fairj
circle. Gentleness, sweetness, loveliness and purity
TH\5 TRUE SPHERE OF WOMAN. 39
are tlie ele>..iients of her power. Her place is not on
life's great battle-fields. Man belongs there. It is
for hirr to go forth armed for its conflicts and strug-gles,
to do fierce battle with the hosts of evils that
throng our earth and trample upon its blessings.
But woman must abide in the peaceful sanctuaries
of home, and walk in the noiseless vales of private
life. There she must dwell, beside the secret springs
of public virtue. There she must smile upon the
father, the brother, the husband, when, returning like
warriors from the fight, exhausted and covered with
the dust of strife, they need to be refreshed by sweet
waters drawn *' from affection's spring," and cheered
to renewed struggles by the music of her voice
There she must rear the Christian patriot and state^-
man, the self-denying philanthropist and the obedient
citizen. There, in a word, she must form the char-acter
of the world, and determine the destiny of her
race How awful is her mission ! What dread re-sponsibility
attaches to her work ! Surely she is not
degraded by filling such a sphere. Nor would she
oe elevated, if, forsaking it, she should go forth into
dO THE Y0"N5 lady's COUNSELLOR.
the highways of society, and jostle with her brothers
for the offices and honors of public life. Fame she
might occasionally gain, but it would be at the price
of her womanly influence.
Fancy yourself far out at sea, in a noble ship, con-tending
with a furious storm. A " war of moun-iains
" rages on the surface of the great deep;— they
seem " to swallow each other," and to " reproduce
new Alps and Andes from their monstrous depths,"
to keep up the strife.
" Beneath is one wild whirl of foaming surges ;
Above, the array of lightnings, like the swords
Of Cherubim, wide brandished, to repel
Aggression from heaven's gates."
Behold, amidst this scene of grandeur, the stormy
petrel gliding up the face of a huge wave, darting
above the foam of a breaker, or sweeping along the
watery valleys, as composedly and as naturally as it
ever swept over the same sea m an hour of calm.
Behold, too, another bird, whirling and darting above
the spray, with a cry of seeming despair; now flying
before a monster sea-, and anon struggling to keep its
rnE TRUE SPHERE OF WOMAN. 91
wet and weary wings from folding into helpless
enaction. But see ! it descries your ship, and,
prompted by an instinct of self-preservation, flies
toward it for shelter. Alighting, it hides under the
lee of your bulwarks, in a coil of cable. Mark its
exhaustion I See how its wet breast heaves with the
violent beating of its little heart ! Its fright is ex-cessive,
and it is questionable if it will recover itself
or live.
Tell me, lady, why this little trembler is in so
pitiful a plight, while the stormy petrel gambols
freely among the waves ! You cannot answer.
Then listen ! The petrel is in its appropriate sphere
The little trembler is a land-bird, tempted, at first, by
sunny weather, to wander among the islands, and
driven, at last, by a strong wind to sea. He is out of
his sphere; and hence his quiet has fled, his song is
silenced and his life endangered. God made him
for the land ; the grove is his home, and his sphere
is among the flowers.
It is thus with the entire creation. Everything
iirs Its appointed sphere, within which alone it can
92 THE YOUNG LADY 's . OUNSELLOR.
flourish. Men and WDmen have theirs. They are
not exceptions to this truth, but examples of it. To
be happy and prosperous, they must abide in them,
Man is fitted for the storms of public life, and, .V^ie
the petrel, ran be happy amidst their rudest sur(^es.
Woman is formed for the calm of home. She may
venture, like the land-bird, to invade the sphere of
man, but she will encounter storms which she is
utterly unfitted to meet ; happiness will forsake her
breast, her own sex will despise her, men will be un-able
to love her, and when she dies she will fill an
unhonored grave.
That great patriot, John Adams, paid a high com-pliment
to the power of your sex, when, in an hour
of deep political gloom, he wrote the folio w^ing lines
to his wife. Alluding to the attack of the British
on the city of Philadelphia, he says : " I believe the
two Howes have not very great women for their
wives ; if they had, we should suffer more from their
exertions than we do. A smart wife would have
put Howe in possession of Philadelphia a long time
THE TRUE SPHERE OF WOMAN. 93
This remark of the statesman, playfully as it is
expressed, was, nevertheless, the offspring of an
opinion which he seriously maintained concernmg
the influence of women. He contended that much
of the merit of the great men, whose names are on
the roll of fame, belonged to their sisters, wives and
mothers. Hence he attributed the faults of Howe to
the lack of high merit in his wife.
John Quincy Adabis, the " old man eloquent,"
once paid the following precious tribute to his
mother. "It is due to gratitude and nature, that 1
should acknowledge and avow that, such as I have
been, whatever it was, such as I am, whatever it is,
and such as I hope to be in all futurity, must be
ascribed, under Providence, to the precepts and ex-ample
of my mother."
Very similar is the confession of the celebrated
German philosopher, Kant, who says, " 1 shall never
forget that it was my mother who caused the good
which is in my soul to fructify
"'
It was to his devoted sister I hat the pious Pascal
was indebted for preservation from a worldly spirit
^4 THE YOUNG LADY's COUNbElLOR.
which at one time threatened to drag him down from
the heights of a holy experience to the depths of sin
But for her, his light niight have been quenched for-ever.
The martyr missionary, Martyn, was also led to
Christ by the gentle hand of his sister, who thus
called into action those mighty energies in his soul
which made his life an example of self-denying
labor.
I quote these honorable acknowledgments from
these great minds to confirm the opinion of John
Adams, and to impress it forcibly upon your heart.
You must consider them as specimen facts. Could
every great and good man ari^e from the dead, to
make known from whence the power came which
called his noblest qualities into action, each would
point to a sister, wife or mother. What can ambi-tion
in a woman's heart ask more ? What if she is
forbidden to stand in the forum, to mount the ros-trum,
to enact the part of a Cicero, a Washington, a
Wesley? Has she therefore nothing great in her def
tiny ? Is it nothing to sit beside young, unform^
THE TRUE SPHERE OF WOMAN. 95
intellect, and, by the skilful strokes of her chisel, give
it such shape and beauty as shall command the
admiration of a world ? Is that gift to be despised
which enables a woman, with almost unerring cer-tainty
to determine the character of her brother, hus-band
or son ? Nay ! She who trains a soul to
right and noble deeds "stands higher in the scale
of benefactors than he who unshackles a continen*
from thraldom ; for she adds more to the sum of
human happiness, if we estimate the effects by their
duration." ^
Nor are the pleasures of success less delightful m
a woman's breast, because she attains it through an-other.
If a rich tide of joy flows through the breast
of an applauJed hero, a triumphant statesman or a
useful philanthropist, there is another equally de
lightful in the bosom of the woman who is conscious
vhat, but for ner, the great man would never have
mounted the pedestal of his greatness.
Behold, for an example, a splendid scene enacted
at the close of the Revolutionary war. Cornwai [."-iS
See Chalmers' Memoirs, v I. i., p 246.
96 THE You^CT lady's counsellor
and his army had been captured, 'i'he Revolution
was successful. The great chiefs and officers of the
victorious armies were assembled at a festival in
honor of their victory. The spacious saloon was
crowded. There were those chivalrous Frenchmen,
in their gorgeous uniforms, who, at the cry of liberty.
had bravely rushed to arms, and whose valor had
been proved in many a hard-fought field. There
were those sturdy continentals, whose daring cour-age
and unconquerable spirit had triumphed over
the disciplined bravery of their English opponents.
There, also, were the women, the matrons of that
heroic age, with their blushing daughters, all radiant
with the sunny spirit of joy which reigned through-out
that brilliant assembly.
Presently the doors of the saloon open to admit a
personage, whose entrance awakens universal atten-tion.
His figure is noble and commanding; his bear-ing
dignified, without haughtiness ; his expression
lofty, but mild. He treads the floor with unaffected,
yet unsurpassed majesty. His presence kindles every
eye and heart with the ardor of rapturous enthusiasm
THE TRUE SPHERE OF WOMAN. 97
lie is regarded with reverence, yet with aflftction,
—
as a superior, and yet as a friend. He presents to
their gaze the rare sight of a Christian soldier and
un unambitious statesman. He combines in himself
the daring of a Csesar with the caution of a Fabius,
— the patriotism of a Regulus and the virtue of a
Cincinnatus. He is the man whose enduring forti-tude,
military prowess, and overawing influence, had
sustained the spirit of the Revolution, crowned it with
.•>:uccess, and earned for himself the glorious preemi •
nence of being the " first in war, first in peace, and
first in the hearts of hi^ countrymet," — for that per-sonage
was Gh:oRGE Washington !
Never, perhaps, was homage more sincerely or
heartily rendered to a man than by the brave and
beautiful in that hall ; and never was it more de-served.
Nor is it nossible to conceive of a purer,
sweeter human joy, than that wh'ch swelled his
bosom.
There was another heart, how^ever, that shared hi
the homage and the joy of that occasion. Leaning
on the arm of the hero, in simple stateliness of mien,
08 THE yOUNG U^DY'S COUNSELLOR.
there walked Mar's', the Mother of WASHmoTON
She had trained him in his boyhood,—taught hira
the principles and developed the qualities which 'ay
at the foundation of his greatness. It was h*^- hands
which had moulded his character to symmetry and
moral beauty. Her prayers, her influence, and
her instructions, had repressed and restrained the
growth of evil qualities, and cultivated that divine
life in his soul, which led him to take counsel of the
God of battles — the Governor of nations. Her
early influence over her glorious son was well under-stood,
and silently acknowledged, in that gay assem-bly.
Yea, her son had owned it,— was proud of it.
He laid his lofty honors .at her feet, and prized her
smile above the noisy voices of fame. Did she then
experience a pleasure aught inferior to his? Wno
shall decide which bosom was the happiest on tnat
triumphant day ? The joy of Washington was
great ; the joy of his mother was, at least, equal.
Would she have accomplished more, or tasted a
sweeter pleasure, if, forsaking her s^phere, she had
tiingled directly in the councils of the states au^^ the
THE TRTTE SPHERE OF WOMAN. 99
.loveinents of the camp? Impossible! She helped
to achieve the Revolution, — she shared the richest
enjoyments of its success ; but she did it through her
heroic son, —just as God would have every woman
win her honors and rewards, through her brother,
husband or child.
Away, then, from your heart, young lady, with all
the vagaries of these pseudo reformers I Treat their
crude opinions with the contempt they deserve.
Glory in the true greatness and real sublimity of the
sphere- you are called to fill. Labor to qualify your-self
to fulfil your mission with distinguished success.
Obtain, by persevering self-culture, those high quali-ties
which lift one mind above another. For you
must not fail to remember, that you cannot commu-nicate
high qualities and noble sentiments to other
minds, unless they first exist in your own. Culti-vate,
therefore, the loftiest virtues, the highest ele-ments
of great character. Let them be chastened in
yourself by that sweet sunniness of spirit, and that
afiectionate gentleness, which command the avenues
of the human heart. Thus will you secure both
iOO THE YOUNG LADV's COUNSELLOR.
respect and love. You will impress your image on
some precious masculine mind in whom it shall go
forth upon the great theatre of life, to act with bless-ing
and power upon future generations.
Such being your sphere, with its weighty respons-ibility,
you require the aids of religion to fill it with
propriety and effect. High qualities are not the off-spring
of an ungracious nature. There is too much
of the moral weakness of depravity in the human
soul, to permit its harmonious and useful develop-ment,
without the restraints and aids of grace
Where the spirit of revealed religion does not reign,
there will be moral deformity. Selfishness with its
forbidding aspect, pride, envy, hate, discontent, fret-fulness,
ill-temper, and troops of kindred vices, will
wound and sear your character, diminish your influ-ence,
and disturb your peace. But, by surrendering
yourself to the claims and influences of the Saviour,
your life will be as a fruitful branch -in a beautifi-l
vine. The fruits of the Spirit will adorn it. Clus-ters
of graces, such as love, ioy, peace, gentleness,
goodne.ss and meekness, will give it attractiveness.
THE TRUE SPHER OF WOMAN. lOx
tte beauty will impress the minds around you, and
Hct as a mighty restraint from sin upon them, as
they wander over the earth. Your image will stand
before a brother, a husband or a father, as a good
genius in his hour of temptation, and forbid the tri-umph
of the tempter. For, calling up your charac-ter,
his full heart will exclaim of you,
" She looks as whole as some serene
Creation minted in the golden moods
Of sovereign artists ; not a thought, a touch,
But pure as lines of green that streak the white
Of the first snow-drop's inner leaves."
To impress such an image of yourself upon some
loved mind within your circle, is worth a lifetime of
effort. And you have no effectual means of accom-plishing
so noble a task, but by communing deeply
v\nth the spirit of Jesus. Resolve, therefore, to live at
his footstool, and he will inspire you with every high
and holy quality necessary to enable you to ful6J
your 9arthly mission.
CHAPTER V.
LOVELINESS OF SPIRIT.
HE author of " The New Tdion,"
desciibinof the character of a young
heroine, who won all hearts to
^^ herself, thus explains the philoso-phy
of her influence
:
" It was not mirth, for mirth she was too still ;
It was not wit, wit leaves the heart more
chill
;
But that continuous sweetness, which, with
ease,
Pleases all round it, from the wish to please.
This was the charm that Lucy's smile be-stowed
;
The wave's fresh ripple from deep fountains
flowed ;
Below, exhauslless gratitude, — above,
Woman's meek temper childhood's ready
jOve."
f^OVELINESS OF SPIRIT. 103
Here the poet places an abiding sweetness of
spirit, a meek loveliness of temper, as the central
star in a constellation of virtues which adorn his
ideal woman. The inspired writer expressed the
same high estimate of a kind and loving spirit, when
he drew his admirable picture of a " virtuous wo-man,''''
whose '' price is far above ruhiesy Of her he
says, " She openeth her mouth with wisdom, and in
her tongue is the law of kindness."
This loveliness of spirit is woman's sceptre and
sword, for it is both the emblem and the instrument
of her conquests. Her influence flows from her sens-ibilities,
her gentleness, her tenderness. It is this
which disarms prejudice, and awakens confidence
and affection in all who come within her sphere;
which makes her more powerful to accomplish what
her will resolves than if nature had endowed her
with the strength of a giant. For, while the will of
a pigmy may resist, to his destruction, the commands
»f a Cyclops,
" The heart must
Leap kindly back to kindness."
104 THE VOING lady's COUNSELLOR.
Speaking of this power, an elegant writer hays
" If there is such a native loveliness in the sex as to
make a woman victorious when in the wrong, how
resistless her power when she is on the side o;
truth I" And even the ancient bard of Erin, Osslvn,
sung the same idea, in the days of old. Describing
a maiden heroine, he says : " Loveliness, with a robe
of beams, clothed the maid of Lutha, the daughter
of many isles."
1 would not have you imagine, young lady, that
loveliness of spirit alone is a source of high and
abiding influence, nor that other great qualities
may be dispensed with, if this one is obtained. So
far is this from the truth, that this quality is depend-ent
upon the existence of the most exalted moral
excellences. Nature may have endowed you with
exquisite sensibility, with a highly refined and deli-cate
physical organization, which may give you the
appearance of being lovely, and enable you to make
a favorable impression, and to exert an irresistible
power over the mind you aim to fascinate. But, if
your heart is lacking in high-minded self-devotion, id
LOVELINESS OF SPIRIT. 105
self-control, in sincerity, in genuine meekness, your
oveliness, like a coating of gold upon a counterfeit
coin, will disappear before all who behold you in
contact with the realities of life. Genuine loveliness
is the effulgence of sublime virtue ; it is a soft and
mellow lio:ht, diffu:^* j a delicious radiance over the
entire character, and investing its possessor with a
halo of indefinable beauty. It is the " fresh ripple
from deep fountains " of inborn love. It is the gentle
dew descending from the clear heaven of a pure
and lofty mind — the mystic charm that " pleases all
around, from the wish to please."
Permit me to lead you to what may appear an
unlikely spot to learn much of the power of loveli-ness
— to the cell of a maniac. Behold his furious
ravings at our approach ! Mark his wild and terri-fying
expression ! How fearful a thing is madness !
But see ! Here is a beautiful child, just able to talk.
She holds a rosy apple in her tiny fingers, and with
timid steps is approaching the grating of the celL
Placing the apple between two bars, she addresses
the maniac in the soft and musical voice of child-
i06 THE YOUNG LADY's COUNSELLOR.
hood, saying, " Sir, will you please to lake an
apple?"
He gazes at the child a moment in stupid wonder,
and then retires raving to the corner of liis cell. Let
a day pass, in your imagination. Again the little
girl comes toddling towards the -^U, and repeats her
offer of love. In vain, as yet, is her appeal. An-other
and another day passes, with the same offer
and the same result. Unwearied the little one
stands, an angel of love, in the madman's presence,
warbling forth her offer of " Sir, will you take an
apple ? " The eyes of the maniac rest a moment
upon those of the child ; they are fall of the expres-sion
of love. He is attracted. Her sweet voice
renews the request, " Will you take an apple, sir ?
"
He is fascinated. She smiles. He is subdued.
He accepts the fruit, and eats it. The keeper now
opens the door of his cell. The little gin takes him
by the hand, leads him forth docile as a lamb, and
presents us with a lovely picture of madness con-querea
oy the persevering kindness and loveliness of
a gentle girl.
LOVELINESS OF SPIRIT. ] 07
Froir. this life-painting let us turn to anothei
equally aifeciing and instructive. It contains a ven-erable
old English market, with its busy crowds of
buyers and sellers. Beneath its shadow, and near
one of its corners, is a humble stall, in which stands
a poor woman, rough in her exterior, but verj^ benev-olent
in her looks. Her mind seems divided be-tween
the care of her stall and of an idiot boy, who
sits on the ground nearby, swinging backwards and
forwards, and singing, in a low, pathetic voice, an
unmeaning strain. The poor creature is thoroughly
demented. He knows nothing, and he spends all his
time seated as we behold him. His mother's love is
the only ray that penetrates the chambers of his
darkened mind.
One day the neighbors missed this old market-woman
and her idiot son from their accustomed
places. Seeking her humble hovel, they found hex
l}ing dead upon her comfortless couch, whh the boy
seated beside the corpse, holding her cold hand in
his, and mournfully singing his accustomed strain.
They spoke kindly to him. He looked at then witn
109 THE YOUNG LADY's COUNSELLOR.
a tear standing in his eye, and then, clasping the
dead hand with increased tenderness, resumed hia
unmeaning song, but in a softer and sadder key.
" Poor wretch ! what shall we do with him ? " In-quired
the visiters. As they stood gazing on the
melancholy spectacle, the boy gathered the dust from
the floor in his two hands, sprinkled it upon his head
and broke forth, with a wild, clear, heart-searching
pathos, into his monotonous song. Thus affectingly
did this idiot lad proclaim the depth of the impres-sion
made upon his spirit by the continuous kindness
of his mother, years of whose life had been wearily
spent in self-devoted care for her child. The loveli-ness
of a mother's devotedness had penetrated the
soul of an idiot.
I have yet another illustrative sketch, by which lo
impress your heart with a conviction that the power
of a kind and lovely spirit is almost irresistible.
The scene is from one of those sad and dreary
events so plentiful in the French Revolution.
A-mong the prisoners in the Abbey was the venera-ble
Cazotte and his lovely daughter. Elizabeth,
LOVELINESS OF SPIRIT. 109
Finding no proofs of royal ism against the daughter,
;he revolutionary leaders sent an order for her dis'
missal from the prison. Her filial heart refused the
gift of liberty, and, at the cost of much personal suf-fering,
she clung to her noble father's side in prison.
Her generous self-devotion, her virtuous deportment,
and the entire loveliness of her spirit, wrought won-derfully
on all within the prison. Even those mur-derous
Marseillois, whose hearts were harder than
the steel of their swords, acknowledged her power,
and protected the person of her father for her sake.
But, on the terrible second of September, 1792, after
a carnage of thirty hours in the court of the Abbey,
Cazotte was summoned to meet death. " Why
xere you impris9ned ? " demanded one of these mur-derers.
" You will find the answer in the jailer's book I
"
was the old mun's stern reply.
An axe was already uplifted. The blood-stained
hands were outstretched to pierce his aged breast.
His daughter rushed wildly through the crowd,
threw herself on the old man's neck, and presenting
110 THE YC:tJNG lady's COUNSELLOR.
her bosom to the swords of the assassins, exclaimed,
" Strike, barbarians ! You shaL not get at my
father until you have pierced my heart !
"
The effect of this act was irresistible. The pikes
were checked. The hands of the murderers were
paralyzed. The mob was overawed. A voice
shouted " Pardon ! " " Pardon ! pardon ! " replied a
thousand voices, and the beautiful Elizabeth, ren-dered
doubly beautiful by her agitation, and de-fended
by a band of Marseillois, led her father forth
from that scene of blood, amidst the thunders of their
applause, to liberty and home. An example of the
power of self-devoted loveliness of character over the
fiercest minds.
These illustrations of the power of a kind and
lovely spirit are, I admit, extreme cases. I have
chosen such examples in preference to others, be-cause
they best subserve my purpose. For if kind-ness
has power over a maniac, an idiot, an assassin,
it must be sufficient to subdue minds that are more
accessible to influence. If love in the heart and
sweetness in the manner of the gentle girl could sub
LOVELINESS OF SPIRIT. Ill
due a raving maniac, — if m the market-woman it
could nwaken affection in an idiot's breast, — if in
Elizabeth it could charm the minds and change the
purpose of murderers, — surely, in your hands, it is
capable of doing much with the almost infinitely
more susceptible minds that move within your
sphere. Possess it, and you may bind the soul of
your brother, in bonds softer than velvet and stronger
than gyves of brass, to religion and virtue. You
may awaken the mind of your scholars to noble aspi-rations
after excellency on earth and glory in heaven.
You may sustain the spirit of your father, and save
him from yielding to despn^r in an hour of tempta-tion.
You may mould ttie destiny of your husband,
and breathe the air of Paradise around his tried
spirit, until he shall acknowledge you to be the good
genius of his existence. You may train your chil-dren,
if you ever become a mother, so that, as Cor-nelia
found her highest honor in being the Mother
OF THE Gracchi, it may be the richest thought of
your life that you are the mother of patriot, philan-thropic
and Christian children, and that through the
IJ2 THE Yor'NG LADi''S COUNSELLOR.
deeds of brother, father, husband or son, your name
is to be writ in the affections of posterity. Seek,
therefore, and seek earnestly, after a lovely spirit
!
Find it, and you will be enthroned queen of the
sphere in which you move.
The citizens of ancient Rome were accustomed to
place the images of their great ancestors in the vesti-bulec
of their houses. These venerable busts con-stantly
met their eyes, and reminded them of the
glorious actions of the dead. They were thus
prompted to imitate the heroic examples of their
illustrious fathers, and to transmit a worthy name to
posterity. The idea was certainly a noble one, and
was, to some extent, .successful. It created a pride
of character, which led to noble deeds, in a long li'ie
of glorious Romans, through many ages of that
gigantic commonwealth.
This fact recognizes a great truth, which has an
important bearing on the subject of power over other
minds. It teaches the depth and practical results of
oft-repeated impressions. Those marblo busts, cold
and lifeless as they were, repeated their silent les*
LOVELINESS JF SPIRIT. 113
sons of virtuous heroism every day They con-
Ftantly reminded the young Roman of the glory that
gathers round the name of him who forms a high
character, and lives for noble aims. The idea
entered his heart. He mused upon it until he did
reverence to the virtues of the ancients, and resolved
to tread in their consecrated steps.
It is by a corresponding process that a spirit of
meek loveliness in a woman achieves its ends. Its
abiding presence, its constant exhibition in the thou-sand
daily acts of her life, in the tones of her voice
and in the spiritual atmosphere which she creates
around her, gradually wins the affections of the most
wilful minds. It is not by one striking act of kindness
she gains her influence, but from the impression which
her daily deportment makes on her associates. Her
presence is a beam of light, gladdening the family
circle, and its members soon learn to rejoice at her
presence, to feel charmed by her character. She
breathes words of kindness in every ear, her eyes
oeam with the light of love upon all, her feet hasten
to assist all. There is a noble unselfishness in her
8
114 THE YOUNG LADY'S COUNSELLOR.
actions, a benevolent devotion to the 'nterests ana
pleasure of others, which throws a spell of enchant-ment
over them. In her the song of the poet is
realized :
" Love look up the harp of life, and smote on all the chords
with might,
Smote the chord of self, that, trembling, passed in music out
of sight."
The celebrated William Wirt, in a letter to his
daughter, discourses on the power of this unselfish
loveliness in woman, in the following sensible man-ner.
He says, " I want to tell you a secret. The
Vhole world is like the miller at Mansfield ; he
cared for nobody, — no, not he, — because nobody
cared for him. And the whole world will serve you
so, if you give them the same cause. Lrt every one,
therefore, see that you do care for them by showing
them what Sterne so happily calls * the bmail sweet
courtesies of life,' in which there is no parade
;
whose voice is too still to tease, and which manifest
themselves by tender and affectionate looks and little
acts of attention— giving others the p/eference in
LOVELINESS OF SPlllIT. 115
every little enjoyment at the table, in the field, walk-ing,
sitting or standing. This is the spirit that gives
your sex its sweetest charm. It constitutes the sum
total of the witchcraft of woman. Let the world see
that your first care is for yourself, and you will
spread the solitude of the upas-tree around you, in
the same way, by the emanation of a poison which
kills all the juices of affection in its neighborhood.
Such a girl may be admired for her understanding
and accomplishments, but she will never be beloved.
" The seeds of love can never grow but under the
warm and genial influence of kind feelings and affec-tionate
manners. Vivacity goes a great way in
young persons. It calls attention to her who dis-plays
It. If it then be found associated with a gen-erous
sensibility, its execution is irresistible. On
the contrary, if it be found in alliance with a cold,
haughty, selfish heart, it produces no other effect
than an adverse one."
I remember a young lady, Annette by name, who
was remarkably beautiful and extremely vivacious.
These qualities attracted a splendid young ma