Part 25

The love of beauty and refinement belongs to every true woman. She ought to desire in moderation pretty dresses, and delight in beautiful colors and graceful fabrics. She ought to take a certain, not too expensive, pride, in herself, and be solicitous to have all belonging to her well chosen and in good style. Many fail to understand the true object and importance of this sentiment. Let no woman suppose that any man, much less her husband, is indifferent to her appearance. But women should constantly beware lest what was meant as a means of influence becomes a ruling passion. And let it be ever remembered that beauty of dress does not reside in the material; that time, place, and circumstances are all to be considered; that they may look far more bewitching in the eyes of those whom they are desirous to please when clad in neat calico than if robed in silks and satins. And depend upon it that the husband, wearied with his day's work, had far rather find the wife neatly clad, doing or superintending household duties, than, when dressed in the height of fashion, she greets him to a home that sadly needs an efficient, willing housekeeper.

Through dress the mind may be read, as through the delicate tissue the lettered page. Women are more like flowers than we think. In their dress and adornments they express their natures, as the flowers in their petals and colors. Some women are like the modest daisies and violets—they never look or feel better than when dressed in a morning wrapper. When women are free to dress as they like, uncontrolled by others and not limited by their circumstances, they do not fail to express their true characters. A modest woman will dress modestly; a really refined and intelligent woman will bear the marks of careful selections and faultless taste.

It is to be feared that many, both ladies and gentlemen, fail to recognize the beauty which always accompanies simplicity. The stern simplicity of the classic taste is seen in the statues and pictures of the old masters. In Athens the ladies were not gaudily, but simply arrayed, and we doubt whether any ladies have ever excited more admiration. Female loveliness never appears to so good advantage as when set off by simplicity of dress. Tinselries may serve to give effect on the stage or upon the ball-room floor, but in daily life there is no substitute for the charm of simplicity. A vulgar taste is not to be disguised by gold and diamonds. The absence of a true taste and refinement of delicacy can not be compensated by the possession of the most princely trousseau. Mind measures gold, but gold can not measure mind. Those who think that in order to dress well it is necessary to dress extravagantly or gaudily make a great mistake. Elegance of dress does not depend upon expense. A lady might wear the costliest silks that Italy could produce, adorn herself with laces from Brussels which years of patient toil are required to fabricate; she might carry the jewels of an Eastern princess around her neck and upon her wrists and fingers, yet still in appearance be essentially vulgar. These are as nothing without grace, without adaptation, without an harmonious development of colors, without the exercise of discrimination and good taste.

God has implanted in the minds of all, but especially in the female breast, the love of beauty, and one way that this feeling finds expression is in the matter of dress and personal adornment. We think that it is the duty of all to clothe themselves in that style of dress which most becomes them, provided that it does not conflict with hygienic rules, and is warranted by their circumstances. It is their duty, since when in choice personal adornment they have a dignity and sense of personal elevation which they do not experience when in uncouth attire. Pride, of course, often enters into fine dressing, and many women are fond of flaunting their fine feathers in people's eyes; but a great majority love handsome dressing in obedience to an instinct of refinement, in consequence of that sense of personal purity which accompanies the wearing of choice apparel.

To advise a young lady to dress herself with any serious departure from the prevailing fashion of her day and class is to advise her to incur a penalty which may very probably be the wreck of her whole life's happiness. But it is only the fault of public opinion that any penalties at all follow innovations in themselves sensible and modest. To train this public opinion by degrees to bear with more variation of costume, and especially to insist upon the principle of fitness as the first requisite of beauty, should be the aim of all sensible women. Nothing can be in worse taste than for sensible women to wear clothes by which their natural movements are impeded, and their purposes, of whatever sort, thwarted by their habiliments.

The styles of dress are so many and varied that it would be a vain, as well as useless, attempt to classify them. There is one principle running through all which every woman should carefully consider. Are your modes of dress in accordance with the rules of hygiene? This question you ought carefully to consider, ever remembering that nature will allow none of her laws to be violated in the name of fashion with impunity, and that every style of dress that does not conform to the plainest of nature's teaching should be frowned down upon by all sensible people.

Dress, to be in perfect taste, need not be costly. It is to be regretted that in this age too much attention is paid to dress by those who have neither the excuse of ample means nor of social culture. The wife of a poorly paid clerk or of a young man just starting in business aims at dressing as stylishly as does the wealthiest among her acquaintances. Consistency in regard to station and fortune is the first matter to be considered. A woman of good sense will not wish to expend in unnecessary extravagance money wrung from an anxious husband; or, if her husband be a man of fortune, she will not even then encroach upon her allowance. In the early years of married life, when the income is moderate, it should be the pride of a woman to see how little she can spend upon her dress and yet present that tasteful and creditable appearance which is desirable.

The dress of a gentleman never appears more creditable than when characterized by simplicity. A gentleman's taste in dress is shown in the avoidance of all extravagance. A man of wit may sometimes be a coxcomb, but a man of judgment and sense never can be. A beau dressed out is like a cinnamon tree—the bark is worth more than the body. A dandy is said to be the mercer's friend, the tailor's fool, and his own foe. There are a thousand fops made by art for one fool made by nature.

To judge from the actions of many of our young men one would suppose that dress was their highest aim in life. Elegance of attire is, indeed, well, and, when suitable to the surroundings, bespeaks the gentleman. But men of sterling worth and character are apt to have a feeling of contempt for the one who, by his faultless attire and spruce manner, conclusively shows that he is actuated by a dandy's view of life. A coat that has the mark of use upon it is a recommendation to people of sense, and a hat with too much nap and too high a luster a derogatory circumstance. The best coats in our streets are worn on the backs of penniless fops, broken-down merchants, clerks with pitiful salaries, and men that do not pay up.

Dandies and fops are like a body without soul, powder without ball, lightning without thunderbolt, paint on sand. There is much of this in the world. We see it exemplified in every thing considered valuable. The counterfeiter gives the show of gold to his base coin, and the show of value to his lying bank note. The thief hangs out the appearance of honesty in his face, and the liar is thunderstruck if any body suspects him of equivocation. The bankrupt carries about with him the appearance of wealth. The fop puts on the masquerade of dignity and importance. The poor belle, whose mother washes to buy her plumes, outshines the peeress of the court. Many a table steams with costly viands for which the last cent was paid; and many a coat, sleek and black, is worn on the street on which the tailor has a moral mortgage.

In the matter of dress, then, when we sum it all up, we find that the love of dress is inherent in all true men and women, and that it would be as unwise as it would be useless to strive against it; that, while no man or woman should allow themselves to become a slave to dress and fashion, still it is no less a duty than it is a privilege to cultivate this love of adornment, ever keeping it within due bounds, remembering that outward adornment should be but secondary to the adornment of the soul with all noble and great qualities.

We may admire proofs of hardiness and assurance, but we involuntarily attach ourselves to simplicity and gentleness. Gentleness is like the silent influence of light, which gives color to all nature. It is far more powerful than loudness or force, and far more beautiful. It pushes its way silently and persistently, like the tiniest daffodil in Spring, which raises the clod and thrusts it aside by the simple persistence of growing.

It is to be feared that in this stirring age, when we enumerate the elements of success, that we do not lay stress enough on the milder virtues of simplicity and gentleness. While fond of applauding the hardier virtues of energy, self-reliance, perseverance, and others of a similar nature, we are in danger of losing sight of the fact that ofttimes an exhibition of gentleness and courtesy is not only extremely pleasing in itself, but is not infrequently one of the most expeditious and efficacious modes of advancing present interests.

It is singular what power gentleness and courtesy bestows on him who practices them. The most boisterous winds only cause the traveler to wrap his cloak the closer to him, while the gentle rays of the sun speedily induce him to discard it. And thus it is with many of the pursuits of life, where sheer force of intellect or intensity of application would ofttimes end only in a failure of plans and purposes, gentleness, by its silent but powerful influence, will not only excite a feeling of good will in the minds of others, but as oil removes friction from a machine and causes it to move smoothly, so will gentleness remove apparently insurmountable objects from the pathway of our success.

Gentleness belongs to virtue, and is to be carefully distinguished from the spirit of cowardice or the fawning assents of sycophants. It removes no just right from fear; it gives no important truth to flattery; it is, indeed, not only consistent with a firm mind, but it necessarily requires a manly spirit and a fixed principle in order to give it any real value. An able man shows his spirit by gentle words but resolute actions. How often experience convinces us that a bold and brazen loudness of tones and roughness of manner cover only a vacillating spirit and irresolute actions! And on the other hand, do not history and observation show that quietness and gentleness ofttimes mark the most determined of actions? The rarest bravery of all in the world is found actively engaged accompanied by an exhibition of gentleness. And ought we not so to expect it? The person moved by a spirit of gentleness throws all the energy of his nature into action. It is not allowed to waste in boisterousness, but is guided and directed in the most appropriate channels by an understanding calm and collected.

In the captain of a canal-boat we generally expect gruffness of manner, loudness of tones, and a general lack of refinement, dignity, and gentleness; but in the commander of an ocean steamer we shall always find the quietness, gentleness, and dignity that we all recognize as such a proper accompaniment of power. So true it is that gentleness of manner is the most appropriate and general expression of true greatness and worth that we use the expression "a gentle man" to express the highest type of worth in man.

In the mechanical world do we not always find that the greater the exhibition of power the steadier and quieter the movement becomes? It is the rickety engine of but few horse-powers that goes with a fizz and a clatter, while the massive engine that supplies the motive power for acres of machinery goes almost noiselessly; and the sublimest exhibition of power in the universe—the movement of the heavenly bodies—proceeds in absolute quiet. We observe the same effect in the moral world; the master minds who have moved kingdoms and swayed the thoughts of millions are uniformly gentle and dignified in their bearings. The loud-tongued and clatter-brained fanatics merely cause a movement in their immediate vicinity.

There is a magic power in gentle words, the potency of which but few natures are so icy as to wholly resist. Would you have your home a cheerful, hallowed spot, within which may be found that happiness and peace which the world denies to its votaries? Let not loud, harsh words be uttered within its walls. Let only gentle, quiet actions there be found. Speak gently to the wearied husband, who, with anxious brow, returns from the perplexities of his daily avocations; and let him, in his turn, speak gently to the care-worn woman and wife, who, amid her never-ending round of little duties, finds rest and encouragement in the sympathy of him she loves. Speak gently to the wayward child. A pleasant smile and a word of kindness will often restore good humor and playfulness. Human nature is the same with it. It has its joys and sorrows as well as those of mature growth, and its little heart will quickly yield to the power of gentle, loving kindness.

Hearts of children are, after all, much like flowers; they remain open to the softly falling dew, but shut up in the violent downfalls of rain. Therefore, when you have occasion to rebuke children, be careful to do it with manifest kindness and gentleness. The effect will be incalculably better. Speak gently to the dependent who lightens your daily toil; kind words insure respect and affection, while the angry rebuke provokes impertinence and dislike. Speak gently to the aged ones; many are the trials through which they have passed, and now, in a little while, they will be missed from their accustomed places—the spirit will have passed to its rest. The remembrance of an unkind word will then bring with it a bitter sting. Speak gently to the erring one; are we not all weak and liable to err? Temptation, of which we can not judge, may have surrounded him. Harshness will drive him on the sinful way; gentleness may win him back to virtue.

True gentleness is founded on a sense of what we owe to Him who made us, and to the common nature of which we all share. It arises from reflection on our own failings and wants, and from just views of the condition and duty of man. It is native feelings, heightened and improved by principle. It is not deficient in a sense of true worth and dignity, but it recognizes in all men the possessors of infinite possibilities, even the possibilities of eternal life; and it treats them as brethren. It summons to its highest and best form of expression all that is noble in manhood, inspiring in purpose, grand in aim, and walks proudly therein; humbly, yet with an air of conscious dignity; quietly, yet with the insignia of power.

Since, then, true gentleness is thus significant of power, thus potential for good, and is the high and distinctive test of a gentleman, ought not all the young earnestly strive to learn that spirit of self-control, and accustom themselves to speak and act gently at all times, and, by so doing, to act as becomes a man and responsible being?

It has been remarked that the modest deportment of really wise men, when contrasted to the assuming air of the vain and ignorant, may be compared to the difference of wheat, which, while its ear is empty, holds up its head proudly, but as soon as it is filled with grain bends modestly down and withdraws from observation. Thus with true worth and merit: it is uniformly modest in deportment. It is only the shallow-pated who strive to attract attention by pretentious claims. The ocean depths are mute; it is only along shallow shores that the roar of the breakers is heard.

It is not difficult to draw the line between self-reliance and modesty on the one hand, and self-esteem and arrogant pretensions on the other. True self-reliance does not call on all men to witness its exploits. It displays itself in action. It may be reserved in deportment, but quietly and modestly proceeds in the path that wisdom points out, with a steady reliance on its own powers. Not so self-esteem. Its boast is that it is sufficient for all things; which, to be sure, were not so bad, were it not for the fact that, when put to the test by necessity, it so quickly abandons its pretentious claims, and, forgetting to use its own powers, is anxious only for the aid of others.

Modesty is a beautiful setting to the diamond of talents and genius. The mark of the truly successful man is absence of pretensions. He talks in only ordinary business style, avoids all brag, dresses plainly, promises not at all, performs much, speaks monosyllables, hugs his fact. He calls his employment by its lowest name, and so takes from evil tongues their sharpest weapon. Who made more wide and sweeping discoveries, of more far-reaching consequences, than Newton? Yet listen to his modest confession: "I know not what the world may think of my labors, but to myself it seems as though I had been but a child playing on the seashore, now finding some pebble rather more polished, and now some shell rather more agreeably variegated than another, while the immense ocean of truth extended itself unexplored before me." Thus it is always found that modesty accompanies great merit, and it has even been said that merit without modesty is generally insolent in expression.

The greatest events in the world's history dawned with no more noise than the morning star makes in rising. All great developments complete themselves in the world, and modestly wait in silence, praising themselves never, and announcing themselves not at all. If "honesty be the best policy," we can not deny that modesty, as a matter of policy even, hath a rare virtue. What so quickly commands our good wishes as modesty struggling under discouragement? what our sympathy more than modesty struck down by affliction? or what our respect and love more than modesty ministering to the distresses of others? There is no surer passport to the favors of others than modesty of deportment. It will succeed where all else has failed to waken in the minds of others an interest in our affairs. It is to merit as shades to figures in a picture, giving it strength and beauty.

Modesty is not bashfulness, though the two are often confounded. The bashfulness of timidity is constitutional, the bashfulness of credulity is pitiable, the bashfulness of ignorance is disreputable, but the bashfulness allied to modesty is a charm. There are two distinct sorts of bashfulness. The one is awkwardness joined to pride, which, on a further acquaintance with the world, will be converted into the pertness of a coxcomb. The other is closely allied to modesty. It is a painful consciousness of self, which is produced by our most delicate feelings, and which the most extensive knowledge can not always remove. In undermining and removing bashfulness, due regard is to be had to the adjacent modesty, good nature, and humanity, as those who pull down private houses adjoining imposing buildings are careful to prop up such parts as are endangered by the removal.

Bashfulness in itself can not be admired. It completely distrusts its own powers, whereas we have seen that a proper reliance on self is at all times highly commendable. Bashfulness in man is never to be allowed as a good quality, but a weakness, inasmuch as it suppresses his virtues and hides them from the world, when, had he a mind to exert himself, he might accomplish much good. We doubt not but there are many fine intellects passing for naught by reason of their bashfulness.

Modesty is far different from reserve. Reserve partakes more of the nature of sullen pride. It is haughty in demeanor, and hath not the sweet, retiring disposition of modesty. A reserved man is in continual conflict with the social part of his nature, and even grudges himself the laugh into which he is sometimes betrayed. The modest man does not refuse to perform his part socially. His only dread is that others may think he is trying to center attention on himself. The really modest man may be the most social of men. The reserved man thinks it is beneath him to mingle with the mass of the people.

Modesty never counsels real merit to conceal itself. It never bids one refuse to act when action is necessary, and the person is conscious that his powers are adequate for the performance of the task. Nor when a good deed is to be done should the modest man hesitate to come forward to do it, providing he is capable of so doing. Modesty counsels none to be backwards where duty points the way; but modesty strictly forbids that when a good or meritorious action is done that the performer should spread abroad the story of his doings. Leave that for others to do.

Modesty is the crowning ornament of womanly beauty, and the honor of manly powers. It alike becomes every age, giving new grace to youthful figures, and imparting a pleasing virtue to years. It softens the asperities of poverty and is a beautiful setting for wealth and fortune. It gives additional charms to the possessor of genius and talents, or cunningly conceals the want of the same. It is the key that unlocks alike the gate to success or the door of love and respect. It makes life pleasant to the one who exercises the virtue, and charities bestowed by its hand are worth far more to the recipient than their mere pecuniary value.

"Life without love! Oh, it would be A world without a sun— Cold as the snow-capped mountain, dark As myriad nights in one; A barren scene, without one spot Amidst the waste, Without one blossom of delight, Of feeling, or of taste!"

Love in one form or another is the ruling element in life. It is the primary source from whence springs all that possesses any real value to man. It may be the love of dominion or power which, though utterly selfish in its aims and methods, has been most marvelously overruled for good in the world's history. It may be the love of knowledge, in the pursuit of which lives have been lost and fortunes spent; but grand secrets have been wrung from nature—secrets which have contributed much for the advancement of human interests. But the love grander than any other, before which all the other elements of civilization pale and dwarf to utter insignificance, which is as powerful to-day as in the morning of time, which will continue to rule until time is ended, is that indefinable, indescribable, ever fresh and beautiful love betwixt man and woman—that love which has the power to tame the savage's heart; which finds man rough, uncultivated, and selfish; which leaves him a refined and courteous gentleman; which transforms the timid, bashful girl to the woman of matchless power for good.