The Young Woman's Guide

Let no young woman forget, moreover, that she lives, not for herself alone, but for others; and that if she injures health and life by improper dress, she does it not for herself alone, but for all those who shelter their abuses under her example, as well as for all those who may hereafter be more immediately influenced by her present conduct. Let her neither forget her responsibility nor her accountability. Would to God that she could see this matter as it truly is, and as she will be likely to see it in years to come!

Let it be remembered, moreover, that as we can diminish the size of the chest by compressing it, so we can enlarge it, gradually—especially in early life—by extra effort; or by general exercise; but especially such general exercise as I have mentioned in a former chapter—I mean, moderate labor in the garden or in the field, and in house-keeping. Nor is spinning on a high wheel—which requires not only walking to and fro, but also considerable motion of the arms and chest—a very bad exercise. A great deal may also be done by reading aloud in a proper manner, and by conversation; and especially by singing.

I believe that by a proper education of the lungs—instead of the modern custom of _un_educating them—it would be possible, in the course of a few successive ages, greatly to enlarge the cavity containing them. And if this can be done, it will be a means of promoting, in the same degree, the tone and vigor, not only of the lungs themselves, but also of the whole physical frame; and the aggregate gain to our race would be immense. Let us think of the amazing difference between a race which has been deteriorating in body and mind, from generation to generation, and at the same time suffering from disease in a thousand forms, and one which is not only free from primitive disease, but gradually improving, both bodily and mentally, and in a fair way to go on improving for centuries—perhaps thousands of years—to come!

3. We have no right to use that dress as a DEFENCE which does not answer this purpose, so long as we can get that which does; provided it answers neither of the other two purposes already mentioned.

Now, are there not a great number of articles of clothing worn, whose use cannot be justified on these principles? Does not the greater part of human time and labor which is expended on dress, both by the maker and the wearer, go to answer other purposes than these? Is it not expended for mere ornament? And is such an expenditure right?

My own conviction is, that we are bound, as Christians—and as such, I must consider my readers in this favored country—to use that dress, and that alone, which answers the great purposes of dress; and that were the subject viewed in its true and just light, all beyond this should be regarded as sinful. What I suppose these great purposes of dress are, has already been mentioned.

In short, I suppose that our duty is, to dress in such a way, if our circumstances permit it, as will be best for the purposes of merely clothing, tempering and defending our bodies. That material, that quantity, and those forms of dress, which we suppose best accomplish this, should be adopted as fast as they are known.

Such a view will, of course, be opposed by the devotees of fashion; but not, I think, by many of those who know they cannot serve two masters—God and mammon, or God and the fashions—and that it is their duty to devote themselves, unreservedly, to the worship and service of the former.

I shall also be opposed by another class—the devotees of utility, or a species of what I call utilitarianism. They will say that I am a utilitarian, of the rankest sort; that I would destroy all just taste, all industry, all division of labor, all commerce, and all wealth.

But is it so? Is that proved to be a just taste, to which the views here presented seem to be opposed? Where is the proof, and by whom has it been adduced? I am no advocate for a utilitarianism which excludes just taste: but I believe our tastes to be depraved by the fall, no less than our affections; that they are not, as some suppose, free from sin—though less sinful, perhaps, than our moral tastes and preferences. I believe that a taste which is not conformed to the nature of things and to the law of God, is a perverted taste; and that the modern taste in regard to dress and ornament, is, to a great extent, of this description.

And does there remain no room for industry when personal ornaments are excluded? As well might it be said that the exclusion of all drinks but water, would strike a death-blow at industry. Is there nothing left for people to do, because you take away ornament?

Perhaps, indeed, if all personal ornament were to be taken away suddenly, it might give a temporary check to industry, and seem to conflict with the principal of a division of labor. But this cannot happen, except it were by miraculous agency. The utmost that can be rationally expected at present by the most sanguine, would be, that professing Christians should exclude it; nor could they, as a body, be expected to do it at once. One here, and another there, would renounce, as wrong, what he had been accustomed to think right; and this would give society time to adjust itself, and preserve its balance; as it has done in the case of every great and important change of public opinion.

But we are gravely told by several writers on this subject, that as a nation's wealth is derived from a division of labor, it follows, that to deny ourselves all ornament, would be a great injury to the community.

What a strange inference! Is there nothing for people to do, in this world, I again ask, but to make ornaments? Or can it be that they form so important a division of human labor, that to dispense with them in the only way in which it is possible, humanly speaking, to do so—that is, by enlightening public opinion, and appealing to the conscientious—is to take away the wealth of the nation?

I deny, most resolutely, that mere artificial ornaments make any considerable part of a nation's real wealth. That which tends to make us healthier in all the functions of our bodies—which developes and improves all the faculties of our minds—and which developes and cultivates, to the highest possible extent, all the good affections of the soul-is alone worthy of the name of wealth.

I do not deny, that he who makes two stalks of grain grow where only one grew before, is a public benefactor. I do not deny that, for certain purposes in the arts—in architecture, especially—he who polishes a gem, or a block of marble, may also be a public benefactor. This is a very different thing from preparing and applying ornaments to our persons; and may be, to some extent, useful. But I am still assured, that those who make a person healthier than before, or improve his intellect, or are a means of awakening in him a love to God and man, and of promoting its growth where it is already awakened, are benefactors to the world in a degree infinitely higher, and add to its true riches almost infinitely more.

It is health, knowledge and excellence—we again say—which exalt a nation; and these are its true wealth. Fifteen millions of free men, all as healthy as the most perfect specimen which could now be found among us; all as wise as the wisest man in the world; and all as virtuous and excellent as Aristides, or Howard, or Benezet, or John, the beloved apostle, himself—what a national treasure they would be! what a revenue of true wealth they would afford!

Now, if fifteen millions of such people would be a source of national wealth before unheard of, would not every individual of this whole number be a source of wealth? And would not every element which should go to make up the sum total of the excellences of each individual, be a part of this mighty treasure?

If the richer part of the community have money to spare, why should they not spend it in increasing the health, the knowledge, and the morality of the needy around them—by giving employment to those who are capable of promoting these blessings, and who want employment?

It will be said, I know, that the great multitude of persons around us are not fit for more elevated employments. No; nor will they ever be, in any considerable numbers, until they come to be employed in this way much more frequently than they now are. Let there be an urgent demand in the market for a commodity, and it usually soon comes to be abundant. Let there be a demand for laborers in the mental and moral field—in this more elevated garden of the Lord—and they will, ere long, be furnished; and the more persons there are employed in this way, and who consequently come into the habit of fitting themselves to be thus employed, the richer will be the national treasury.

That many young women, who read this chapter, will wholly lay aside their ornaments, and fit themselves, as fast as possible, for the noble purpose of ornamenting those around them, by promoting their physical, intellectual and moral well being, can hardly be expected. But I do hope that I shall lead a few to expend less of time and money in dressing and ornamenting their persons than heretofore, and more in dressing and ornamenting the immortal mind, as well as more in promoting health of body.

I cannot but hope to live to see the day, when every person who professes the name of Jesus Christ, and not a few who make no professions at all, will entertain similar views in regard to the purposes of dress and their own duty in relation to it, to those which I have endeavored to inculcate. Such a day must surely come, sooner or later; and I hope that those who believe this, will make it their great rule to expend as little on themselves as possible, and yet answer the true intentions of the Creator respecting themselves.

There is a very wide difference between spending as much as we can on our persons—in the gratification, I mean, of the wants of our depraved tastes, under the specious plea that it encourages commerce and industry—and spending as little as we can on ourselves, and as much as possible in promoting the health, the learning, and the piety of ourselves and those around us. The former has been tried for centuries—with what result, let the state of society and our misnamed refinement bear witness. Let the latter be tried but half as long, and the world will be surprised at the results.

Foremost in this work of reform, should be our millions of young women. They should be so for two reasons. First, because their influence and responsibilities to coming generations are great, and, secondly, because they are at present greatly involved in the practical error of loving external ornaments too well, and of valuing too little the ornaments of a healthy body, a sound mind, and a good heart.

I am often pained to hear the reproach cast upon females, and especially upon the younger of the sex, that they are fond of the "far-fetched" and "dear-bought," even when they are the less valuable. It should not be so. They should be above the suspicion of such a weakness.

What else can be expected, however, when those who should be the guardians of the public taste—and who should, as Christian citizens, strive with all their might to elevate it—engage in pandering to the follies, not to say the depravities, of the age? Let young women rise above themselves, and escape the snares thus laid for them by those who ought to be their guides to the paths of wisdom, and virtue, and happiness.

CHAPTER XXVIII

DOSING AND DRUGGING

Tendency of young women to dosing and drugging. "Nervousness." Qualms of the stomach. Eating between our meals—its mischiefs. Evils of direct dosing. What organs are injured. Confectionery. The danger from quacks and quackery.

Fallen as human nature—our physical nature with the rest—now is, there are seasons in the lives of almost all of us, when we are either ill, or fear we shall be so. And young women, as well as others, have their seasons of debility, and their fears, and even their sick days. They have their colds, their coughs, their sick headaches, their indigestions, and their consumptions. Above all—and more frequently by far than almost any thing else—they have those undefinable and indescribable feelings of ennui, which, for want of a better name, are called, in their various forms, "nervousness."

When the unpleasant sensations to which I have just alluded, are referred to the region of the stomach, and only produce a few qualms, young women are not, in general, so apt to take medicine, as to eat something to keep down their bad feelings—as a bit of seed-cake, a little fruit, some cloves or cinnamon, or a piece of sugar.

This, though better than to take medicine, is yet a very bad practice; for although momentary relief is secured in this way, it never fails to increase the unpleasant sensations in the end. I ought to say somewhere—and I know of no better place than this—that the habit of eating between our regular meals, even the smallest thing whatever; is of very mischievous tendency; and this for several reasons. First—the stomach needs its seasons of entire rest; but those persons who eat between their meals seldom give any rest to their stomachs, except during the night. Secondly—eating things in this way injures the general appetite. Thirdly—the habit is apt to increase in strength, and is difficult to break. Fourthly—it does not afford relief, except for a very short time. On the contrary, as I have already intimated, it increases the trouble in the end.

This eating of such simple things, I have said, is quite bad enough; but there are errors which are worse. Such is the habit of taking an extra cup of tea or coffee—extra, either as respects the number of cups or the strength. Now tea and coffee-and sometimes either of them—are very apt to afford, like eating a little food, a temporary relief. Indeed, the sufferer often gains so long a respite from her sufferings, that the narcotic beverage which she takes is supposed to be the very medicine needed, and the very one adapted to her case. The like erroneous conclusion is often made after using, with the same apparent good effect, certain hot herb teas. Yet, I repeat it, such medicinal mixtures usually—perhaps I should say always—aggravate the complaint in the end, by deranging still more the powers and functions of the stomach, and debilitating still more the cerebral and nervous system.

Different and various are the external applications made to the head, in these circumstances; but all, usually, with the same success; they only produce a little temporary relief. The same may be said of the use of smelling bottles—containing, as I believe they usually do, ammonia or hartshorn, cologne water, camphor, &c. The manner in which these operate to produce mischief, is, however, very different from that of the former. They irritate the nasal membrane, and dry it, if they do not slowly destroy its sensibility. They also, in some way, affect seriously the tender brain. In any event, they ought seldom to be used by the sick or the well. Nor is this all. They are inhaled—to irritate and injure the lining membrane of the lungs.

Trifling as it may seem to many, I never find that a young woman keeps a cologne bottle in her dressing room, or a smelling bottle about her—or perfumes her clothes—or is in the habit of eating, every now and then, a little coriander, or fennel, or cloves, or cinnamon—without trembling for her safety. Persisting long in this habit, she will as inevitably injure her brain and nervous system, her lungs or her stomach—ay, and her teeth too—as she continues the habit. I never knew a young woman who had used any of these things, year after year, for a long series of years, whose system was not already suffering therefrom; and if I were fond of giving or receiving challenges, I should not hesitate to challenge the whole world to produce a single instance of the kind. In the very nature of things it cannot be. Such persons may tell us they are well, when we make an attack upon their habits; but take them when off their guard, and we hear, at times, quite a different story.

In regard to the daily, or even the occasional use of the stronger drugs of the apothecary's shop—whether this shop is found in the family or elsewhere—I would fain hope many of our young women may claim an entire immunity. It seems to me to be enough, that they should spoil their breath, their skin, their stomachs and their nerves, with perfumes, aromatic seeds and spices, confectionary, and the like, without adding thereto the more active poisons—as laudanum, camphor, picra, antimony, &c.

The mention of the word confectionary, in the last paragraph, brings to my mind a congregated host of evils which befall young women, as the legitimate consequences of its use. Some may suppose that the class of young women for whom I am writing, have little to do with confectionary; that they have risen above it. Would that it were so! But that it is not, many a teacher of young ladies' boarding schools, female seminaries, &c.—to say nothing of parents—might abundantly testify.

That they are very often the dupes of the quacks and quackery with which our age abounds—or at least, that they take many of the pills, and cough drops, and bitters, and panaceas of the day—I will not believe. Much as they err to their own destruction, I trust they have not yet sunk so low as this.

CHAPTER XXIX

TAKING CARE OF THE SICK

The art of taking care of the sick should be a part of female education. Five reasons for this. Doing good. Doing good by proxy. Great value of personal services. How can young women be trained to these services? Contagion. Breathing bad air. Aged nurses. Scientific instruction of nurses. Visiting and taking care of the sick, a religious duty. Appeal to young women.

The art of taking care of the sick, should be considered an indispensable part of female education. Some of the reasons for this are the following:

1. As society now is, there is danger that the number of our young women who fall into a state of indifference, not to say absolute disgust, with the world and with life, will greatly increase, unless the sex can be led, by an improved course of education, to exercise more of that active sympathy with suffering which prompts to assist in relieving it.

2. Nurses of the sick are greatly needed. It not unfrequently happens, that good nurses cannot be obtained, male or female, except by going very far in search for them. And yet it would seem that every one must know the importance of good nurses, from the prevalence of the maxim—not more prevalent than just—"A good nurse is worth as much as a physician."

What physician has not, again and again, seen all his efforts fail to do any good, because not sustained by the labors of a skilful, intelligent, faithful and persevering nurse? This condition is one of the most trying that can befall him; and yet, trying as it is, it is his very frequent lot.

3. Females are better qualified—other things being the same—for attending the sick, than males. They not only have a softer hand, and more kindness and gentleness, but they are also more devoted to whatever they undertake; and they have more fortitude in scenes of trial and distress. Their thoughts are, moreover, less engrossed by the cares of business, and by other objects, than those of our sex. They seem formed for days, and months, and years of watchfulness—not only over our earliest infancy, but also over our first and second childhood. And it were strange indeed, if nature, in qualifying them for all this, had not qualified them to watch over us during the few short years that intervene.

There may, indeed, be instances—there certainly are some such—where the physical strength of females, unaided, is not sufficient for the task of which I am speaking. For the most part, however, it is gentleness, and patience, and fortitude, which are most wanted and in these, woman stands pre-eminent.

4. It is often advantageous to have female assistance in taking care of the sick, because it can be afforded at a much lower rate than that of males. There are females who need the avails of these labors for a livelihood; but not having been trained to them, they are not, of course, employed. Hence there is suffering in both ways. The sick suffer in the loss of the needed help, and the indigent woman suffers for want of the avails of that labor which she might have been trained to perform.

One great advantage of being able thus to obtain female attendants at a cheaper rate, is that the sick would be more likely to have the regular attention, or at least, the general care, of the same individual. Thousands and thousands of sick people have died, who might easily have recovered, had they been able to employ a regular nurse. Where a change of nurses takes place almost every day, no one of them feels that degree of responsibility which it is highly desirable that somebody, in this capacity, should feel.

5. I have spoken of the necessity of having young women trained to the art of taking care of the sick, that it may open a door to their sympathies. But it should also be done to open the door to their charities. Such charities as the gratuitous attendance of the sick, where it can be afforded, are among the most valuable which can possibly be bestowed.9 Had we ever so much money to give to the sick and distressed, it might be misapplied; or, at least, applied in a way we should not approve. Even if it were spent to procure good attendance, are we quite sure our own attendance would not be still more useful? Is it not always better to do the good ourselves—provided we are competent to do it—than by proxy; especially, by employing those whom we know little or nothing of? If we do all the good we are able to do, with our own hands, we feel that we have better discharged our duty, than if we had first turned our labor into money, and then applied the money to the same purpose.

But how is it possible, I shall doubtless be asked, that in a healthy community like that of our own New England, young women generally can be trained to understand this office?

There is no great difficulty in the case. Healthy as we are—that is, comparatively so—we have in every neighborhood, if not in every family, ample opportunities for initiating the young into this most indispensable art. It is not expected, nor is it indeed desirable, that they should be fully employed, or made fully responsible, at first. There should be a sort of apprenticeship served, to this trade as well as to any other. Indeed, I hardly know of an occupation or an art, which more demands a long apprenticeship, than this. Put, as I was going on to say, let young women, at a very early age, be gradually inducted into the office. Some young female of their own age, is perhaps sick. Let them solicit their mother and the friends of the diseased, to permit them to be present a part or all of the time, that they may observe and early understand the art of taking care of the sick.

Let the young woman solicit her mother, I say; because I apprehend, as I have done all along, that the work of reformation in this matter, no less than in others, must begin with the young woman. She finds herself twelve, fourteen or sixteen years of age, and entering upon a life involving duties and responsibilities, to her before unthought of—and for which she finds herself most sadly unprepared. She believes in the necessity of self-effort. What conscience tells her ought to be done, she decides to do. She goes forward intelligently and what she begins, she resolves, if possible, shall be finished.

Let it not be objected, that the introduction of the young to the sick room will expose them, unnecessarily, either to contagion or the breathing of bad air. For as to contagion, there is probably much less of it in the world than many suppose. But whether there is less or more danger, the best way to do, as the world is now situated, is, to inure ourselves, gradually, to disease. There are in New York and Philadelphia, many very aged persons, who have been employed as professional attendants of the sick during all the visitations of those cities with yellow fever and cholera, who have yet never taken either of those diseases.

It is our fear of taking disease, very often, which makes us take it. The sum total of the danger to the community, as a community, of contracting even contagious disease, will actually be much lessened, rather than increased, by all our young females being trained in the art and practice of nursing the sick. And the same might be said of the danger from bad air; because, the better the nurse is—that is, the more thoroughly and scientifically she understands her profession—the more pains will be taken in regard to ventilating, both the rooms of the sick and of those who are healthy.