CHAP. XV. Of the inestimable value of a pious, discreet, and faithful Mother. IT has been often observed, that some of the most illustrious of human characters were early moulded to the model of excellence by the maternal hand. Of this I might adduce, from the records of history, no small number of instances; but for the present shall mention only one. Sir Philip Sidney-born about the middle of the sixteenth century-was the wonder of the age in which he lived; for though he died at a little more than thirty, his fame, as a wise and profound statesman, was spread over all Europe. Nor was he less distinguished for religious and moral virtues, and particularly for generosity and tenderness of nature. It has been remarked of him, that "the most beautiful event of his life, was his death." Receiving a mortal wound in a battle in Flanders, the moment after he was wounded, and thirsty with the excess of bleeding, he turned away the water from his own lips, to give it to a dying soldier, with these words, "Thy necessity is still greater than mine." This extraordinary man was indebted, for the rudiments of his education, to his illustrious and excellent mother, the eldest daughter of the Duke of Northumberland, who, in a preceding reign had been beheaded. "Her tender melancholy, occasioned by the tragical events in her family, together with the mischance of sickness, that had impaired her beauty, inclined her to hide herself from the gay world, and to bestow her attentions almost exclusively upon the education of her children." "It was her delight," says a biographer of Sir Philip, "to form their early habits; to instil into their tender minds the principles of religion and virtue; to direct their passions to proper objects; to superintend not only their serious occupation, but even their amuse ments." Had the loftiness of the house of Northumberland not been fallen; had lady Mary, the eldest daughter of that house, been a leader of fashion at the royal court-a distinction to which her rank would have fully entitled her-her Philip would, in no probability, have been the exalted character that he was. To see a mother, herself highly accomplished, and capable of shining in the first circles of fashionable life; to see her forego the pleasure of amusement and the ambition of show, for the sake of bestowing personal attentions upon her children; to see her spend the best of her days in fashioning their minds and manners upon the purest models, guiding them with discretion, and alluring them to the love of excellence, alike by precept and example; to see this, is to behold one of the most charming of spectacles any where furnished in this fallen world. And what though it be not in the power of such a mother to make a Philip Sidney of her son? What though nature has gifted her children with no uncom mon strength or brightness of intellect? Yet, with the divine blessing, she may have such influence upon the moral frame of their young and tender minds, that they shall be disposed to improve their natural talents, such as they are, and to employ them honorably. The benefits, in this respect, which highly capable mothers might confer on their children during a few of the first years of their earthly existence, are far beyond the power of calculation; since these benefits would likely descend from one generation to another, down to distant posterity. "Delightful task!"-In comparison with the pure and sublime enjoyment which the faithful performance of it gives, poor and wretched indeed is the whole sum of pleasure that can possibly be extracted from the amusements of fashion. Lamentable, however, would be the condition of things in this respect, if either wealth, or rank, or supe rior talents, or any great degree of literary acquirements, were indispensably necessary, in a mother, to fit her for the noble and all-important task which that relation devolves upon her. So far from it, a woman of mere plain sense, whose reading extends but little beyond the divine volume that contains our holy religion, and whose worldly circumstances are narrow and even indigent, is capable, nevertheless, of conferring unspeaka ble benefits upon her little ones. As she is the first in their hearts, so, in their esteem, she is the first of women. Her example is their model; they copy her ways; they hang upon her lips. The moral and religious lore inculcated with maternal tenderness by her, they never quite forget; and very often it is the means of forming their characters for life. Precious is the mother, whether of high or low degree, who, in this respect, acts the real mother to the best of her abilities. Hardly can she fail of stamping upon the minds of her younglings, some salutary impressions which will never be quite effaced. Except the rare instances of most unnatural perverseness, their hearts will ever cleave to her. They will not forsake her when she is old. Their filial kindnesses will soothe and solace the infirmities and decays of her age. And when she is called "to put off the mortal and put on the immortal clothing," the genuine expressions of their hearts will be-"We loved, but not enough, the gentle hand that reared us.-Gladly would we now recal that softest friend, a mother, whose mild converse and faithful counsel we in vain regret.' ""* * Alden's collection of American Epitaphs, &c. No. 485. CHAP. XVI. Truth said of Boys, which Boys will ne'er believe. OUR life is beset with perils at every step, but no period of it is perhaps quite so perilous as that in which the boy is stepping into manhood. Then it is that his feeling is fervid, his hope vivid, and his self-confidence at the highest. Then it is that he listens with most rapture to the voice of the siren, that his heart is most susceptible to the allurements of pleasure; and it is then that he spurns alike the trammels of restraint and the counsels of friendship. Untaught by experience, he despises the experience of others; wise in his own conceit, he scorns the moni tions of age and riper judgment; full of himself, he perceives no need of direction or advice, and regards it as an insult to his understanding. He feels a sentiment of indignation and disdain toward those who presume to thwart his views, or to admonish, or advise, his consequential and all-sufficing self. His sense is deceived, "his soul is in a dream, he is fully confident that he sees things clearly, and yet he sees them in a false mirror, exactly such as they are not." Nor is it always the youths of the least promise that are in the most danger. So far otherwise, those of quick perception, of lively imaginations, and of strong passions, are in peculiar hazard during those green years in which is the critical period of transition from the condition of boys to that of men. The very qualities that distinguish them and set them above their fellows, diminish the probability of their establishing a sober staidness of character, and often are the means of launching them into the whirlpool of dissipation, where all is lost; where reputation, morals, and whatever is estimable in human beings, are all engulphed together. How many instances do the perilous times we live in furnish-how many deplorable instances of hopeful boys, abandoned and lost ere they were out of their teens !— And the more their parents had doted upon them, by so much the more are their hearts wrung with anguish. Far less is the danger, while the immature youth remains under the parental roof, or in "the well-ordered home." There he finds it not so easy to shake off salutary restraints; there he needs must feel some respect for the opinion of the society in whose bosom he was born and educated, some reverence of parental authority, and some regard to the feelings of near kindred. But when he leaves the haven of home, and is pushed off upon the stream of life, it is more than an even chance that he will founder in the stream, if he have not previously been under the governance of moral and religious principle. In his new situation, it often happens that he finds new enticements to lead him astray, and at the same time feels himself loosened from the authority and influence which had heretofore repressed his wayward propensities; and if vicious and artful companions get the first hold on him, his ruin is, in all probability, sealed. It was in clear view of these affecting circumstances that the celestial poet, Cowper, penned the following lines: "My boy, the unwelcome hour is come, When thou, transplanted from thy genial home, And trust for safety to a stranger's care." It is hard to mourn over the death, but it is sometimes still harder to mourn over the life, of a beloved child. When they see the one who they had expected would be found the solace of their age, the honor of their family, and an ornament to society-when they see him, at the instant of their highest hopes, turn to the ways of folly; no heart but a heart thus exercised, can conceive the sharpness of the pang. This is sorrow indeed; and the best that parents can do to prevent it, is to train up their children in the way they should go. Good education is the thing in the world the most important and desirable, but it is of wider scope than most people imagine. What is called learning is only a part of it, and so far from being the most essential part, it is but the husk. In vain will you employ your endeavors to educate your children, unless you give seed to the heart, as well as culture to the understanding; unless you make their moral frame the subject of your assiduous and well-directed care; unless you take at least as much pains to make them well principled and of virtuous manners, as to make them shine in learning and accomplishments: for intellectual improvement, if their morals be neglected, will tend to render them wise only to do evil. If you train up your boy to a strict regard to truth, honesty, and integrity, and to a deep reverence of all that is sacred: if you train him up in habits of industry, temperance and love of order-it is then, and only then, you can reasonably expect that he will pass through the perilous crisis before him, uncontaminated, and that his manhood will be crowned with honor. |
