MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.
There lived in the palace at Messina two ladies, whose names were Hero and Beatrice. Hero was the daughter, and Beatrice the niece, of Leonato, the governor of Messina. Beatrice was of a lively temper, and loved to divert her cousin Hero, who was of a more serious disposition, with her sprightly sallies. Whatever was going forward was sure to make matter of mirth for the light-hearted Beatrice.
At the time the history of these ladies commences, some young men of high rank in the army, as they were passing through Messina on their return from a war that was just ended, in which they had distinguished themselves by their great bravery, came to visit Leonato. Among these were Don Pedro, the prince of Arragon, and his friend Claudio, who was a lord of Florence; and with them came the wild and witty Benedick, and he was a lord of Padua.
These strangers had been at Messina before, and the hospitable governor introduced them to his daughter and his niece as their old friends and acquaintance. Benedick, the moment he entered the room, began a lively conversation with Leonato and the prince. Beatrice, who liked not to be left out of any discourse, interrupted Benedick with saying, “I wonder that you will still be talking, Signor Benedick; nobody marks you.” Benedick was just such another rattlebrain as Beatrice, yet he was not pleased at this free salutation; he thought it did not become a well-bred lady to be so flippant with her tongue; and he remembered, when he was last at Messina, that Beatrice used to select him to make her merry jests upon. And as there is no one who so little likes to be made a jest of as those who are apt to take the same liberty themselves, so it was with Benedick and Beatrice; these two sharp wits never met in former times but a perfect war of raillery was kept up between them, and they always parted mutually displeased with each other. Therefore when Beatrice stopped him in the middle of his discourse with telling him nobody marked what he was saying, Benedick, affecting not to have observed before that she was present, said, “What, my dear lady Disdain, are you yet living?” And now war broke out afresh between them, and a long jangling argument ensued, during which Beatrice, although she knew he had so well approved his valor in the late war, said she would eat all he had killed there: and observing the prince take delight in Benedick’s conversation, she called him “the prince’s jester.” This sarcasm sank deeper into the mind of Benedick than all Beatrice had said before. The hint she gave him that he was a coward, by saying she would eat all he had killed, he did not regard, knowing himself to be a brave man; but there is nothing that great wits so much dread as the imputation of buffoonery, because the charge comes sometimes a little too near the truth; therefore Benedick perfectly hated Beatrice, when she called him “the prince’s jester.”
The modest lady Hero was silent before the noble guests; and while Claudio was attentively observing the improvement which time had made in her beauty, and was contemplating the exquisite graces of her fine figure (for she was an admirable young lady), the prince was highly amused with listening to the humorous dialogue between Benedick and Beatrice; and he said in a whisper to Leonato, “This is a pleasant-spirited young lady. She were an excellent wife for Benedick.” Leonato replied to this suggestion, “O my lord, my lord, if they were but a week married, they would talk themselves mad.” But though Leonato thought they would make a discordant pair, the prince did not give up the idea of watching these two keen wits together.
When the prince returned with Claudio from the palace, he found that the marriage he had devised between Benedick and Beatrice was not the only one projected in that good company, for Claudio spoke in such terms of Hero, as made the prince guess at what was passing in his heart; and he liked it well, and he said to Claudio, “Do you affect Hero?” To this question Claudio replied, “Oh, my lord, when I was last at Messina, I looked upon her with a soldier’s eye, that liked, but had no leisure for loving; but now, in this happy time of peace, thoughts of war have left their places vacant in my mind, and in their room come thronging soft and delicate thoughts, all prompting me how fair young Hero is, reminding me that I liked her before I went to the wars.” Claudio’s confession of his love for Hero so wrought upon the prince that he lost no time in soliciting the consent of Leonato to accept of Claudio for a son-in-law. Leonato agreed to this proposal, and the prince found no great difficulty in persuading the gentle Hero herself to listen to the suit of the noble Claudio, who was a lord of rare endowments and highly accomplished; and Claudio, assisted by his kind prince, soon prevailed upon Leonato to fix an early day for the celebration of his marriage with Hero.
Claudio was to wait but a few days before he was to be married to his fair lady; yet he complained of the interval being tedious, as indeed most young men are impatient, when they are waiting for the accomplishment of any event they have set their hearts upon. The prince, therefore, to make the time short to him, proposed as a kind of merry pastime, that they should invent some artful scheme to make Benedick and Beatrice fall in love with each other. Claudio entered with great satisfaction into this whim of the prince, and Leonato promised them his assistance, and even Hero said she would do any modest office to help her cousin to a good husband.
The device the prince invented was, that the gentlemen should make Benedick believe that Beatrice was in love with him, and that Hero should make Beatrice believe that Benedick was in love with her. The prince, Leonato, and Claudio began their operations first, and watching an opportunity when Benedick was quietly seated reading in an arbor, the prince and his assistants took their station among the trees behind the arbor, so near that Benedick could not choose but hear all they said; and after some careless talk the prince said, “Come hither, Leonato. What was it you told me the other day—that your niece Beatrice was in love with Signor Benedick? I did never think that lady would have loved any man.” “No, nor I neither, my lord,” answered Leonato. “It is most wonderful that she should so doat on Benedick, whom she in all outward behavior seemed ever to dislike.” Claudio confirmed all this, with saying that Hero had told him Beatrice was so in love with Benedick, that she would certainly die of grief, if he could not be brought to love her; which Leonato and Claudio seemed to agree was impossible, he having always been such a railer against all fair ladies, and in particular against Beatrice.
The prince affected to hearken to all this with great compassion for Beatrice, and said, “It were good that Benedick were told of this.” “To what end?” said Claudio; “he would but make sport of it, and torture the poor lady worse.” “And if he should,” said the prince, “it were a good deed to hang him; for Beatrice is an excellent sweet lady, and exceeding wise in everything but in loving Benedick.” Then the prince motioned to his companions that they should walk on, and leave Benedick to meditate upon what he had overheard.
Benedick had been listening with great eagerness to this conversation; and he said to himself, when he heard Beatrice loved him, “Is it possible? Sits the wind in that corner?” And when they were gone, he began to reason in this manner with himself: “This can be no trick! they were very serious, and they have the truth from Hero, and seem to pity the lady. Love me! Why, it must be requited. I did never think to marry. But when I said I should die a bachelor, I did not think I should live to be married. They say the lady is virtuous and fair. So she is. And wise in everything but in loving me. Why, that is no great argument of her folly. But here comes Beatrice. By this day, she is a fair lady! I do spy some marks of love in her.” Beatrice now approached him, and said with her usual tartness, “Against my will, I am sent to bid you come in to dinner.” Benedick, who never felt himself disposed to speak so politely to her before, replied, “Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains;” and when Beatrice, after two or three more rude speeches, left him, Benedick thought he observed a concealed meaning of kindness under the uncivil words she uttered, and he said aloud, “If I do not take pity on her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am a Jew. I will go get her picture.”
The gentleman being thus caught in the net they had spread for him, it was now Hero’s turn to play her part with Beatrice; and for this purpose she sent for Ursula and Margaret, two gentlewomen who attended upon her, and she said to Margaret, “Good Margaret, run to the parlor; there you will find my cousin Beatrice talking with the prince and Claudio. Whisper in her ear, that I and Ursula are walking in the orchard, and that our discourse is all of her. Bid her steal into that pleasant arbor, where honeysuckles, ripened by the sun, like ungrateful minions, forbid the sun to enter.” This arbor, into which Hero desired Margaret to entice Beatrice, was the very same pleasant arbor where Benedick had so lately been an attentive listener. “I will make her come, I warrant, presently,” said Margaret.
Hero, then taking Ursula with her into the orchard, said to her, “Now, Ursula, when Beatrice comes, we will walk up and down this alley, and our talk must be only of Benedick, and when I name him, let it be your part to praise him more than ever man did merit. My talk to you must be how Benedick is in love with Beatrice. Now begin; for look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs close by the ground, to hear our conference.” They then began; Hero saying, as if in answer to something which Ursula had said, “No truly, Ursula. She is too disdainful; her spirits are as coy as wild birds of the rock.” “But are you sure,” said Ursula, “that Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?” Hero replied, “So says the prince, and my lord Claudio, and they entreated me to acquaint her with it; but I persuaded them, if they loved Benedick, never to let Beatrice know of it.” “Certainly,” replied Ursula, “it were not good she knew his love, lest she made sport of it.” “Why, to say truth,” said Hero, “I never yet saw a man, how wise soever, or noble, young or rarely featured, but she would dispraise him.” “Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable,” said Ursula. “No,” replied Hero, “but who dare tell her so? If I should speak she would mock me into air.” “O you wrong your cousin,” said Ursula: “she can not be so much without true judgment, as to refuse so rare a gentleman as Signor Benedick.” “He hath an excellent good name,” said Hero: “indeed he is the first man in Italy, always excepting my dear Claudio.” And now, Hero giving her attendant a hint that it was time to change the discourse, Ursula said, “And when are you to be married, madam?” Hero then told her, that she was to be married to Claudio the next day, and desired she would go in with her, and look at some new attire, as she wished to consult with her on what she should wear on the morrow. Beatrice, who had been listening with breathless eagerness to this dialogue, when they went away, exclaimed, “What fire is in my ears? Can this be true? Farewell contempt, and scorn and maiden pride, adieu! Benedick, love on! I will requite you, taming my wild heart to your loving hand.” It must have been a pleasant sight to see these old enemies converted into new and loving friends; and to behold their first meeting after being cheated into mutual liking by the merry artifice of the good-humored prince. But a sad reverse in the fortunes of Hero must now be thought of. The morrow which was to have been her wedding-day, brought sorrow in the heart of Hero, and her good father Leonato.
The prince had a half-brother, who came from the wars along with him to Messina. This brother (his name was Don John) was a melancholy, discontented man, whose spirits seemed to labour in the contriving of villanies. He hated the prince his brother, and he hated Claudio, because he was the prince’s friend, and determined to prevent Claudio’s marriage with Hero, only for the malicious pleasure of making Claudio and the prince unhappy; for he knew the prince had set his heart upon this marriage, almost as much as Claudio himself: and to effect this wicked purpose, he employed one Borachio, a man as bad as himself, whom he encouraged with the offer of a great reward. This Borachio paid his court to Margaret, Hero’s attendant; and Don John, knowing this, prevailed upon him to make Margaret promise to talk with him from her lady’s chamber window that night, after Hero was asleep, and also to dress herself in Hero’s clothes, the better to deceive Claudio into the belief that it was Hero; for that was the end he meant to compass by this wicked plot.
Don John then went to the prince and Claudio, and told them that Hero was an imprudent lady, and that she talked with men from her chamber window at midnight. Now this was the evening before the wedding, and he offered to take them that night, where they should themselves hear Hero discoursing with a man from her window; and they consented to go along with him, and Claudio said, “If I see anything to-night why I should not marry her, to-morrow in the congregation, where I intended to wed her, there I will shame her.” The prince also said, “And as I assisted you to obtain her, I will join with you to disgrace her.”
When Don John brought them near Hero’s chamber that night, they saw Borachio standing under the window, and they saw Margaret looking out of Hero’s window, and heard her talking with Borachio; and Margaret being dressed in the same clothes they had seen Hero wear, the prince and Claudio believed it was the lady Hero herself. Nothing could equal the anger of Claudio, when he had made (as he thought) this discovery. All his love for the innocent Hero was at once converted into hatred, and he resolved to expose her in the church, as he had said he would, the next day; and the prince agreed to this, thinking no punishment could be too severe for the naughty lady, who talked with a man from her window the very night before she was going to be married to the noble Claudio.
The next day, when they were all met to celebrate the marriage, and Claudio and Hero were standing before the priest, and the priest or friar, as he was called, was proceeding to pronounce the marriage-ceremony, Claudio, in the most passionate language, proclaimed the guilt of the blameless Hero, who, amazed at the strange words he uttered, said meekly, “Is my lord well, that he does speak so wide?” Leonato, in the utmost horror, said to the prince, “My lord, why speak not you?” “What should I speak?” said the prince: “I stand dishonored, that have gone about to link my dear friend with an unworthy woman. Leonato! upon my honor, myself, my brother, and this grieved Claudio, did see and hear her last night at midnight talk with a man at her chamber-window.” Benedick, in astonishment at what he heard, said, “This looks not like a nuptial.”
“True, O God!” replied the heart-struck Hero; and then this hapless lady sank down in a fainting fit, to all appearance dead. The prince and Claudio left the church, without staying to see if Hero would recover, or at all regarding the distress into which they had thrown Leonato, so hard-hearted had anger made them. Benedick remained, and assisted Beatrice to recover Hero from her swoon, saying, “How does the lady?” “Dead, I think,” replied Beatrice in great agony, for she loved her cousin; and, knowing her virtuous principles, she believed nothing of what she had heard spoken against her. Not so the poor old father; he believed the story of his child’s shame, and it was piteous to hear him lamenting over her, as she lay like one dead before him, wishing she might never more open her eyes.
But the ancient friar was a wise man, and full of observation on human nature, and he had attentively marked the lady’s countenance when she heard herself accused, and noted a thousand blushing shames to start into her face, and then he saw an angel-like whiteness bear away those blushes, and in her eye he saw a fire that did belie the error that the prince did speak against her maiden truth, and he said to the sorrowing father, “Call me a fool; trust not my reading, nor my observation; trust not my age, my reverence, nor my calling, if this sweet lady lie not guiltless here under some biting error.”
When Hero recovered from the swoon into which she had fallen, the friar said to her, “Lady, what man is he you are accused of?” Hero replied, “They know that do accuse me; I know of none.” Then turning to Leonato, she said, “O my father, if you can prove that any man has ever conversed with me at hours unmeet, or that I yesternight changed words with any creature, refuse me, hate me, torture me to death.” “There is,” said the friar, “some strange misunderstanding in the prince and Claudio;” and then he counseled Leonato, that he should report that Hero was dead; and he said that the death-like swoon in which they had left Hero would make this easy of belief; and he also advised him that he should put on mourning, and erect a monument for her, and do all rites that appertain to a burial. “What shall become of this?” said Leonato; “What will this do?” The friar replied, “This report of her death shall change slander into pity; that is some good, but that is not all the good I hope for. When Claudio shall hear she died upon hearing his words, the idea of her life shall sweetly creep into his imagination. Then shall he mourn, if ever love had interest in his heart, and wish he had not so accused her; yea, though he thought his accusation true.” Benedick now said, “Leonato, let the friar advise you; and though you know well I love the prince and Claudio, yet, on my honor, I will not reveal this secret to them.”
Leonato, thus persuaded, yielded; and he said sorrowfully, “I am so grieved, that the smallest twine may lead me.” The kind friar then led Leonato and Hero away to comfort and console them, and Beatrice and Benedick remained alone; and this was the meeting from which their friends, who had contrived the merry plot against them, expected so much diversion; these friends who were now overwhelmed with affliction, and from whose minds all thought of merriment seemed forever banished.
Benedick was the first who spoke, and he said, “Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?” “Yes, and I will weep a while longer,” said Beatrice. “Surely,” said Benedick, “I do believe your fair cousin is wronged.” “Ah!” said Beatrice, “how much might that man deserve of me who would right her!” Benedick then said, “Is there any way to show such friendship? I do love nothing in the world so well as you; is not that strange?” “It were as possible,” said Beatrice, “for me to say I loved nothing in the world so well as you; but believe me not, and yet I lie not. I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin.” “By my sword,” said Benedick, “you love me, and I protest I love you. Come, bid me do anything for you.” “Kill Claudio,” said Beatrice. “Ha! not for the wide world,” said Benedick; for he loved his friend Claudio, and he believed he had been imposed upon. “Is not Claudio a villain, that has slandered, scorned, and dishonored my cousin?” said Beatrice; “O that I were a man!” “Hear me, Beatrice!” said Benedick. But Beatrice would hear nothing in Claudio’s defense; and she continued to urge on Benedick to revenge her cousin’s wrongs; and she said, “Talk with a man out of the window; a proper saying! Sweet Hero! she is wronged; she is slandered; she is undone. O that I were a man for Claudio’s sake; or that I had any friend who would be a man for my sake; but valor is melted into courtesies and compliments. I can not be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.” “Tarry, good Beatrice,” said Benedick; “by this hand I love you.” “Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it,” said Beatrice. “Think you on your soul that Claudio has wronged Hero?” asked Benedick. “Yea,” answered Beatrice, “as sure as I have a thought, or a soul.” “Enough,” said Benedick, “I am engaged; I will challenge him. I will kiss your hand, and so leave you. By this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account. As you hear from me, so think of me. Go, comfort your cousin.”
While Beatrice was thus powerfully pleading with Benedick, and working his gallant temper by the spirit of her angry words, to engage in the cause of Hero, and fight even with his dear friend Claudio, Leonato was challenging the prince and Claudio to answer with their swords the injury they had done his child, who, he affirmed, had died for grief. But they respected his age and his sorrow, and they said, “Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man.” And now came Benedick, and he also challenged Claudio to answer with his sword the injury he had done to Hero; and Claudio and the prince said to each other, “Beatrice has set him on to do this.” Claudio nevertheless must have accepted this challenge of Benedick, had not the justice of Heaven at the moment brought to pass a better proof of the innocence of Hero than the uncertain fortune of a duel.
While the prince and Claudio were yet talking of the challenge of Benedick, a magistrate brought Borachio as a prisoner before the prince. Borachio had been overheard talking with one of his companions of the mischief he had been employed by Don John to do. Borachio made a full confession to the prince in Claudio’s hearing, that it was Margaret dressed in her lady’s clothes that he had talked with from the window, whom they had mistaken for the lady Hero herself; and no doubt continued on the minds of Claudio and the prince of the innocence of Hero. If a suspicion remained it must have been removed by the flight of Don John, who finding his villanies were detected, fled from Messina to avoid the just anger of his brother.
The heart of Claudio was sorely grieved, when he found he had falsely accused Hero, who, he thought, had died upon hearing his cruel words; and the memory of his beloved Hero’s image came over him, in the rare semblance that he loved it first; and the prince asking him if what he heard did not run like iron through his soul, he answered, that he felt as if he had taken poison while Borachio was speaking. And the repentant Claudio implored forgiveness of the old man Leonato for the injury he had done his child; and promised, that whatever penance Leonato would lay upon him for his fault in believing the false accusation against his betrothed wife, for her dear sake he would endure it. The penance Leonato enjoined him was, to marry the next morning a cousin of Hero’s, who, he said, was now his heir, and in person very like Hero. Claudio, regarding the solemn promise he had made to Leonato, said he would marry this unknown lady, even though she was an Ethiop: but his heart was very sorrowful, and he passed that night in tears, and in remorseful grief, at the tomb which Leonato had erected for Hero.
When the morning came, the prince accompanied Claudio to the church, where the good friar, and Leonato and his niece, were already assembled, to celebrate a second nuptial; and Leonato presented to Claudio his promised bride; and she wore a mask, that Claudio might not discover her face. And Claudio said to the lady in the mask, “Give me your hand, before this holy friar; I am your husband, if you will marry me.” “And when I lived, I was your other wife,” said this unknown lady; and taking off her mask, she proved to be no niece (as was pretended), but Leonato’s very daughter, the lady Hero herself. We may be sure that this proved a most agreeable surprise to Claudio, who thought her dead, so that he could scarcely for joy believe his eyes: and the prince, who was equally amazed at what he saw, exclaimed, “Is not this Hero, Hero that was dead?” Leonato replied, “She died, my lord, but while her slander lived.” The friar promised them an explanation of this seeming miracle, after the ceremony was ended; and was proceeding to marry them when he was interrupted by Benedick, who desired to be married at the same time to Beatrice. Beatrice making some demur to this match, and Benedick challenging her with her love for him, which he had learned from Hero, a pleasant explanation took place; and they found they had been both tricked into a belief of love, which had never existed, and had become lovers in truth by the power of a false jest: but the affection, which a merry invention had cheated them into, was grown too powerful to be shaken by a serious explanation; and since Benedick proposed to marry, he was resolved to think nothing to the purpose that the world could say against it; and he merrily kept up the jest, and swore to Beatrice, that he took her but for pity, and because he heard she was dying of love for him; and Beatrice protested, that she yielded but upon great persuasion, and partly to save his life, for she heard he was in a consumption. So these two mad wits were reconciled, and made a match of it, after Claudio and Hero were married; and to complete the history, Don John, the contriver of the villany, was taken in his flight, and brought back to Messina; and a brave punishment it was to this gloomy, discontented man, to see the joy and feastings which, by the disappointment of his plots, took place at the palace in Messina.
[THE HEAD AND THE HEART.]
By JOHN G. SAXE.
The head is stately, calm and wise,
And bears a princely part;
And down below in secret lies
The warm, impulsive heart.
The lordly head that sits above,
The heart that beats below,
Their several office plainly prove,
Their true relation show.
The head erect, serene, and cool,
Endowed with Reason’s art,
Was set aloft to guide and rule
The throbbing, wayward heart.
And from the head, as from the higher,
Comes every glorious thought;
And in the heart’s transforming fire
All noble deeds are wrought.
Yet each is best when both unite
To make the man complete;
What were the heat without the light?
The light, without the heat?
DEFECTS IN OUR AMERICAN HOMES.[M]
Dr. Vincent: The subject for conference this evening at this hour is “Defects in Our American Homes.” This is not a lecture; it is a conversation. You are to give your thoughts, I am to record them, and we shall then discuss them.
Every organization has a spirit in it, and out of the spirit come influence and action. Out of wrong ideas come mistakes. Out of impotency—where one has an ideal, and not moral force enough to carry it out—comes failure. In the Syrian homes there are defects that belong to their civilization, their doctrines, their modes of life, their limitations. In Italian homes there are defects; so in German and in English homes. The defects of the Italian home differ from those of the English. There are defects in our American homes. What are they? There are defects which characterize us as well as other nations, in this nineteenth century; and defects which are the products or the results of our peculiar doctrines of society and of government. As we go about in our neighborhoods; as we travel to and fro in the land, read the papers and listen to lectures and sermons on the subject, we find peculiar evils that exist to-day in American families. It is to look at the dark side of the American home that we are met to-night. I want you to think and I want you to speak. If any of you has a thought to give, and don’t like to speak it out, write it and I shall be glad to read it for the instruction of all. We take the American home, and I ask you for a list of the defects which belong to the average American home. First—What?
[The various defects mentioned by different speakers are given without the names of the speakers; the comments usually are by Dr. Vincent.]
Selfishness.
Rev. B. Adams: I should group the defects of the homes, as I know them, in the region where I live, under the following letters: I, irreligion; second I, indulgence; third I, ignorance; P, pride; C, covetousness; four L’s, laziness, lying, levity and lust.
Dr. Vincent: Where do you live? [Laughter.]
Mr. Adams: In the State of Connecticut, where there is one divorce in every nine marriages. I propose to try to reform my part of it.
Want of parental control.
The separation of the young from the old, and the separation of the sexes in the family.
Dr. Vincent: What do you mean?
I mean that the young people try to get off by themselves, when they would better mix with the older people; and the result is a tendency to disintegration of the elements of the family.
Want of helpfulness.
Failure to provide proper literature for the home.
Lack of true parental example.
Failure to supply proper amusements.
Irreverence among young people for older persons.
Too much unnecessary labor; working for fashion, etc. Ladies spend too much time dressing, and men spend too much time in smoking: too much tobacco in the family. [Laughter.]
Too much responsibility in the matter of education devolved upon the wife.
The fallacy that the son is influenced more by the mother than by the father.
Men spend too much time away from home.
Too much time is spent at home by mothers.
They ought to come to Chautauqua. [Laughter.]
Worldly conversation too abundant and prominent at home.
Too much indifference to the family altar.
Children are allowed to visit the theater, when parents should hold up something better for them.
Enough attention is not paid to the associations of the children.
Want of care in the formation of the habits of the children.
Gossip in the family.
Want of promptness on all sides: in getting up, in coming to meals, in going to bed, and in attending to duty generally.
Unfair dependence of the wife and mother upon the husband and father in regard to money matters at home. [Laughter.]
Dr. Vincent: I could talk on that subject. I have no doubt that there might be stories told here founded on fact, relative to the consummate and ineffable meanness of some men, who dole out a pittance to their wives, pocketing and otherwise managing to control their funds, leaving the woman, who does the most of the work and bears the heaviest burden, to feel like a beggar most of the time. [Applause.] And the contempt with which that man should be regarded I have no words, in the English or any other language, to describe. [Amen.]
The growing habit of beer drinking in the family, and hard cider, too.
The evil habit of criticising sermons, preachers and other Christian people before children, and thus making sceptics and infidels of them.
Dressing children for pleasure and not for health.
The mother saying to the disobedient boy, “I will tell your father of you:” transfer of authority from father to mother, and vice versa.
Repression of natural child-life in the home.
Want of the manifestation of affection which ought to be manifested in the home. Husbands and wives don’t kiss each other as often as they ought to.
Too much fun made of old maids; making girls marry through fear of becoming unlovely and unlovable old maids.
Want of politeness in the family.
The husband, when he carves for the family, carving out the top pieces for the wife and family, and keeping the tenderloin for himself. [Laughter.]
Want of attention to the laws of health.
Assuming the inferiority of the woman’s intellect.
Failure to train the children to sit with the parents in church.
Late hours.
Want of early consecration of the children to God.
Allowing children to run at large in the street, and to select their own playmates.
Encouraging forwardness in young children.
Trusting children to Roman Catholic servants, and sending our girls to nunneries and those institutions that are organized for the purpose of propagandism and proselytism. [Applause.] Americans can not be too careful in this respect.
Failure to properly regard the Sabbath in the home.
Sending children to Sabbath-school, instead of taking them.
Allowing children to go to three or four Sabbath-schools.
The use of slang in the home.
Too little familiarity in the conversation between parents and children on religious matters.
Lack of artistic attractions in the home.
What are people going to do, who cannot afford to buy costly oil paintings, and fill up their houses with splendid furniture, etc.?
Keep clean; have chromos, flowers, engravings, smiles, clay modeling, whitewash.
Good bread. There is no subject on which America needs more light than on that of good bread and good coffee. [Laughter.]
Upholding the children as against the public school teacher.
Dr. Vincent: We are in a regular fault-finding mood to-night. Keep at it; it is wholesome.
Mother or father allowing the child to speak disrespectfully of the other parent, without reproof.
Too much frying-pan. [Amen, and laughter.]
Want of harmony between the father and mother in the government of the children; so that the child appeals from the decision of the one to the other.
Preventing young children from attending temperance meetings on the Lord’s day.
Dr. Vincent: Well, there are certain types of temperance meeting that I would not allow my child to attend on the Lord’s day. Some temperance meetings are conducted in so irreverent a way that I would not blame parents who are careful where they send their children on the Lord’s day, if they do prevent them from attending such meetings. Nevertheless, it is a great mistake not to commit our children to total abstinence.
Not knowing where the children are after dark.
Not knowing the needs of the children, and the neglect to provide for them in the matter of literature, taste, associations, and all that.
Parents deceiving their children. They begin this very early; sometimes telling the children horrible stories about horrible things, if the child goes “out of that door;” and the child finds that his mother told a downright lie, though she punished him the other day for telling a lie.
Not enough real work for the children, in which the whole family can take an interest.
Children sitting up too late nights.
Children allowed to go away from home at too early an age, without permission from parents.
Young girls graduating from school and college, and spending their time in reading novels.
Parents loading the plates of their children with a variety of dishes, and then doctoring them for some trouble of the stomach.
Laughing at children’s big stories, thus teaching them to be untruthful as they grow older. We should not punish a child for having told a big story of something he saw, without the most careful examination of the case. The child lives in the domain of the imagination; and many a time a child has been flogged and cruelly treated for telling a thing while he honestly believed that which he told was true.
Fretting. There is an immense amount of misery caused in the household by fretting; and children brought up in a fretting atmosphere grow up to make other people miserable by fretting themselves.
Failure to train the daughters in the art of cookery. [Applause.]
Infidelity on the subject of children’s conversion. This is partly because of some soft, silly and irrational processes which are sometimes resorted to for what is called “Getting the children converted.” [That is true.]
The idea of usefulness in the world is not sufficiently appreciated. In families there is too much selfishness in “living for ourselves,” for our furniture, our table, our comforts and our society; and not enough thinking about how we may live as a center of influence for the good of others.
Too little restriction in the matter of association between boys and girls at that period of life when they are called the “after boy” and the “after girl.” When they are neither boys nor girls, neither men nor women. We put away dolls too early from the arms of our girls as they grow up.
Saying “don’t” forty times a day.
Giving sympathy to the girls, and neglecting the boys in the home. There should be not less sympathy to the girls, but more sympathy to the boys.
Dr. Vincent: Taking for granted that boys ought always to be rough, and girls always to be gentle—and so girls should, and boys too; but at the same time there is a roughness which is fitting to a boy that you can not endure in a girl. I love to see a boy grow up, full of manhood, and yet never ashamed to kiss his mother or his father when they meet. I take great pride in any boy, who growing up to be a man, gives expression as a man to that tender feeling of love with which he regards mother and father.
Parents forget that the little child’s troubles are just as serious things to it, as the greater troubles of grown people are to them. The little waves of the bay are as hard on the little boats as the big waves of the sea are on the big ships; and many a child at four or five years of age—younger or older—suffers acutely from sorrows that come, in which it finds no sympathy. We should remember this; and blessed is the minister and blessed is the teacher who has it in his heart to sympathize with and comfort the little people in their sorrows.
The foolish emphasis placed by parents upon the intellectual attainments of their children, while the moral qualities are regarded as of no consequence. It is frightful to contemplate the standards which prevail in our public schools and generally in our educational institutions of to-day, by which memory is taxed, and knowledge of science, knowledge of literature and of mathematics emphasized, and scarcely any attention whatever paid to the moral foundations. We can not regard this with too great solicitude, nor labor as parents too carefully for governing the development of the moral element.
Father and mother should read to and with their children, while the children are small. Then they will be likely to form habits of reading in later years.
Homes lack well-considered purpose and systematic effort. People plan for their business; they plan for their summer tours; they plan in every line, except that of the home training, the home spirit, and the home life.
Too little frankness and too little genuine simplicity encouraged among young girls. It is a bad thing if, through shame or fear of being laughed at, a girl fails to tell the sweetest and deepest and richest things of her heart’s life to her own mother. Blessed is the home where the girl is trained never to keep anything from her mother, and where the boy is trained always to confide in father. Boys and girls who are brought up with that confidence never go to ruin.
Illiteracy in the home:—Resulting from so many people not joining the C. L. S. C.
Dr. Vincent: I honestly believe that the C. L. S. C. will fulfill a useful ministry in this respect in American homes. I have had some beautiful letters to that effect: one from a lady the other day, out of which I shall read on commencement day, relates to the service of the Circle in increasing the sympathy between the husband and wife in lines of reading and study. I never talk about home, but I have pleasant memories of one of the best homes that mortal ever enjoyed; a father who lived for his children, and a mother who set a constant example of the faith and sweetness and patience of the true woman and mother. May God grant his blessing upon the thoughts that have swept through our minds to-night, and make our homes all the better because of this conference.
We had better appear what we are, than affect to appear what we are not.—La Rochefoucauld.
[C. L. S. C. WORK.]
By Rev. J. H. VINCENT, D. D., Superintendent of Instruction, C. L. S. C.
The Memorial Day for April is Shakspere’s Day, Monday, April 23.
All local circles, especially new ones, should report to Miss K. F. Kimball, Plainfield, N. J.
Why would it not be well for members to order at once volume two of Timayenis’s Greek History for next summer? If this is done early, the publishers will know how many copies to print. There will, therefore, be less delay next season.
When a member of the C. L. S. C. gives his name and postoffice address to Miss Kimball, or to the Superintendent of Instruction, let him remember that no postoffice address is complete without the name of the State. The members would be surprised to learn how many omit the State.
Prof. Timayenis says that Athene was called the “Stern-Eyed” because, among her other attributes, she was also the goddess of war. “As she went along the ranks of the armor-clad Greeks, her eye shone like fire flashing in sternness.”
A member of the C. L. S. C. writes: “I beg to inform you that I can not take up that geology at all, as it is something that does not at all interest me, and I can not possibly make time on it, as I do not seem to profit by it.” To meet this very class of people we require but a very small amount of reading in geology. The book by Prof. Packard is a very short one, may be read in the course of two or three hours, and I shall be compelled to require the reading of it in order to cover the ground contemplated by our course.
In the February number of The Chautauquan, the address of Henry Hart, manufacturer of the C. L. S. C. badge, was given as Lockport, instead of Brockport, N. Y., as it should be.
A correspondent writes: “Then, according to Mr. Worman, ‘Goethe’ is pronounced ‘Gearte.’ Is it?” We sent the above question to Prof. Worman and asked him whether or not the r sound enters into the pronunciation of Goethe. Prof. Worman replies: “Of course the r is not sounded, but allowed to affect the sound of ea, so that we do say Göé-thê. Webster, last edition, page 1684 (explanation of abbreviation of signs) says: ‘ö has a sound similar to e in her.’ Compare page 1682 (14). Of course the r is not sounded. Compare Worman’s Complete German Grammar, page 16.”
A correspondent makes inquiry concerning Prof. Packard’s statement on page 52 of his “First Lessons in Geology:” “During the process of upheaval, as soon as the great plateau appears above the ocean, rain storms produce rills and brooks, the ocean leaves Mediterranean seas and land-locked lakes, whose waters gradually evaporate, their salts becoming fresh.”
Our correspondent says: “Our philosophies distinctly teach that bodies of water grow salt rather than fresh by evaporation, as only pure water is evaporated, while all salts and impurities remain. Will you be so kind as to explain the discrepancy. I read it with all care, and can not reconcile it with previous study and reading.”
To this criticism Prof. Packard makes reply: “Whatever be the fact stated in chemical works, the fact I stated is true, that land-locked bodies of the ocean become fresh,—more or less. This is owing, probably, to the supply of fresh water by rivers. If the Baltic Sea should be land-locked, it would make an inland lake. The great Salt Lake was formerly a fresh water lake,—shrinking in size, and losing its outlet into Snake River it became salt. Lake Superior was once an arm of the sea. So Lake Titicaca, in Peru. So with some of the Swedish lakes. Perhaps my statement that they evaporate their salts is inexact, but the original salt water dries up, and what is left is greatly diluted,—whatever be the process,—the geological facts above stated are true.”
“May I read books instead of The Chautauquan?” Better read The Chautauquan. You thus get a wide range of reading; a knowledge of the work of the C. L. S. C.; sympathy with its leaders and members; many practical courses for reading and study. It will be difficult to be an advanced and intense member of the C. L. S. C. without The Chautauquan.
What shall I say when people ask, “What are the benefits of belonging to the C. L. S. C.? Why not take the same studies in the local circle, without such membership?” Answer: Persons who belong to the local circles and avail themselves of the benefits of the suggestions, the courses of study, etc., which come from the central Circle, do so without making any contribution whatever toward the C. L. S. C. as a general movement in society. They get what costs them nothing. People who belong to the general Circle have the satisfaction of knowing that they are, by their annual fee of fifty cents, helping on a great movement that reaches over the whole world; and while no one of the officers of the C. L. S. C. makes any money out of the work, except the meager salary paid to our secretary, a great deal of time is given, a great deal of printing done, a great deal of postage paid, a great deal of advertising circulated, for the sake of acquainting the public with this educational movement. Members of local circles who do not belong to the general Circle know that they are making no contribution whatever to the general work, while they are, without paying a penny, reaping the benefits of it. To this, however, we do not object. We are always glad to have members of local circles. Those who belong to the regular C. L. S. C. have the benefits of the communications which come from the central office, the memoranda, the systematic ways of work, identification with a great fraternity like a college, the privilege of membership in the several societies within the circle, such as “The Hall in the Grove,” “The League of the Round-Table,” etc., etc. They also receive diplomas, and additional incentives to add seals to them during the years. There are many benefits accruing to those who belong to the C. L. S. C.
Who is the son of Capaneus, mentioned by Wilkinson (Prep. Greek in English), page 165? Answer: Sthenelus. He was one of the Epigoni by whom Thebes was taken; he commanded the Argives under Diomedes in the Trojan war. He was one of the Greeks concealed in the wooden horse.
How is Euxine pronounced? Answer: Yṳx´in.
Is there any firm that makes a reduction in price of Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary to members of the Circle? Answer: H. L. Hastings, 47 Cornhill, Boston, Mass., reduces the price from $12.00 to $9.00.
A young lady in Wisconsin writes: I am denied the privilege of school. My parents are poor, and they work hard to secure a living. I have done housework for some time at seventy-five cents per week, buying my own clothes; so I said to myself I will save enough of my wages to purchase the books in the C. L. S. C. course, and I have succeeded. I have enjoyed the study of geology, though I could not afford to have the maps and charts. A map of Ancient Greece was sent me by Dr. Vincent. I hope to soon begin a course in literature and music in an academy.
[C. L. S. C. TESTIMONY.]
How can such deeply-imprinted images sleep in us at times, till a word, a sound, awakes them?—Lessing.
Ohio.—Much of my reading has been done in the sickroom. I wish I could tell you how thoroughly I have enjoyed my reading so far. I know I have acquired a much more eager desire for “solid reading” than I ever had before.
Indiana.—My own illness, and other afflictions in my home, have delayed my work for ’82, but I hope my paper is not too late to be accepted for last year’s work. I have commenced the C. L. S. C. work with the intention of completing it some time, in spite of all hinderances.
Maine.—I have noticed several times your school mentioned in different papers, and have thought I might, perhaps, be able to take the course. My time is pretty well taken up, but I have a boy, nine years of age, who takes The Wide Awake, and is interested in the articles contained in the supplement, and I think I might be better able to answer his questions if I were reading what would help me to do so. I have quite a good selection of books, but perhaps can obtain what you use.
Connecticut.—I can not tell you how well I like the C. L. S. C. course. It is just what I want, and what I need. There is no way I could so well fill up the vacant moments as to read from some of the books of the Chautauqua course. It contains so much good solid reading. I am determined to keep on, doing the best I can, and think I can about catch up before commencing on the next year’s study.
Pennsylvania.—I believe that I have made some improvement by my studies, for I have not read so much for six years. I have made but a feeble effort in answering questions, but I hope to do better in the future. I really had not the time to read the special course. Next year I hope to have help for myself from some new books. I am truly thankful for the privilege of membership in the C. L. S. C., and I hope I can catch up with the class in 1885.
Massachusetts.—I have pursued the C. L. S. C. course entirely alone, and at times I have felt a little discouraged, but never have wanted to give it up, and now that I have graduated I want to keep right on, but hardly know which of the special courses to take up. I will continue to have The Chautauquan because I enjoy it very much. I can not express to you how much good this course has done me, although I can not repeat much of it yet. The world and life seem very different to me now from what they did four years ago.
Vermont.—I want to tell you how much I thank you for the C. L. S. C. course. I was obliged to leave school before I graduated, on account of my father’s death, to take care of my mother, who is an invalid. The Chautauqua course was just what I wanted, and it has cheered many lonely hours. I have studied alone this year but am hoping that some of my friends will take the course next year. I think it is a grand and noble work and just fitted to meet the wants of a large class of people who are denied the privilege of a course of study at school.