The Christian Mother
Chapter 6: FRUITS OF PIETY: Part Five:10. Cultivate in your children a taste for pure and noble pleasures—instead of a love of worldly gaiety.
Pure and noble pleasures last. They wear well. They leave no sting behind. The pleasures of worldliness and gaiety do not wear well. They exhaust the powers of body and mind, and all the capacities of enjoyment, prematurely—and leave a sting behind. That is the reason why the Word of God condemns them—and why Christians abstain from them.
There is hardly any reproach more frequently cast upon Christians than the charge of bigotry—because they refuse to unite with the world in these scenes of gaiety. They are invited to a ball, to the theater, or to a card party—and yet no persuasions can induce them to go.
"What can be the possible harm," it is said, "in going to a ball? We go to a brightly illuminated hall. We have pleasant music to gratify the ear. In graceful measures we beat time to its cadences in the exhilarating dance. After having thus passed a few hours of heartfelt hilarity, we retire unharmed to our homes. Now, what real objection can there be to this amusement," it is asked, "which is not founded on ignorance and superstition?"
This is a very important question, and it deserves a very serious answer. To explain my views upon this subject, let me suppose that you have a son nineteen years of age—a very amiable, correct, and promising young man. He is the darling of the family—attentive to his father and mother—kind to his sisters—all love him. He is a clerk in a store, and is highly respected by his employers. As you have known many amiable young men, in such situations, ruined by such worldly pleasures—you feel great solicitude for him. He has so little of selfishness in his nature, and is so willing to sacrifice his own inclinations to oblige others, that, while he thus promises to be one of the best and most useful of men, he is much exposed to be led away by temptation.
Like an affectionate and dutiful son, as he is, he comes to his father some day, and says to him, "Father, there is to be a ball tonight. All my acquaintances are going, and, if you have no objection, I would like to go also."
"Well my son," says his father, "what time does the ball commence?"
"Between eight and nine o'clock in the evening," he replies.
"And what hour will it close?" the father asks.
"They tell me," the son answers, "that they will probably go home between two and three o'clock in the morning."
"I suppose that wine will be circulated very freely on the occasion; will it not, my son?"
"Why, yes sir; I suppose so—but I hope that I have resolution enough not to be guilty of any excess."
"I trust that you have, my son. But do you know of any who are going to the ball who have the reputation of being intemperate?"
"Yes sir; there will be several there who are known to drink too much wine."
"Will there be many present who are considered generally dissolute in their habits—so much so that you would not like to have them for your acquaintances?"
"There will be some such, sir, I suppose."
"It is rather dangerous," the father rejoins, "for a young man to be thrown into such company, in the midst of all the excitements of music, and dancing, and wine. It will not be easy to shake off acquaintances you may necessarily form there.
"I suppose, of course, too," adds the father, "that they have card-playing in some of the rooms."
"Yes, sir."
"Do they play for money?"
"Some of them I believe do, sir—for small sums."
"It is not uncommon," the father replies, "under such circumstances, for people to commence with small sums and go on to greater. Under the stimulus of play and wine, they plunge deeper and deeper into the game, until the dawn of morning finds them still with the cards in their hands. Many a young man in these scenes, commences on the road to ruin. I have in my experience known a great number thus lost to virtue, and who have brought hopeless shame upon their parents and friends.
"You say, my son, that the ball will break up about three o'clock in the morning. You can, perhaps get home and to your bed at half-past three. You must rise at six o'clock in the morning to get the store opened in time. This allows you two hours and a half for sleep—sleep which, from the previous excitement must be feverish and unrefreshing.
"I counsel you therefore, my son," the father continues, "not to go. By going into such scenes, you will be exposed to many temptations—the excitement of wine—the excitement of many dangerous passions. You can hardly avoid forming many very undesirable acquaintances. You will be invited to the gaming table, and may thus commence the acquisition of a taste for all the excitements of gambling.
"Many may be there, who, having no pleasures except those of fashionable dissipation, will be glad to secure you as an associate. Invitations will multiply upon you. When a young man once enters this vortex—it is difficult to get out again. When you go to the store in the morning, you will be languid and melancholy—all your energies will be exhausted. With aching head, and bloodshot eyes, and trembling limbs, you will have a day of mental depression, which will much more than counterbalance all the enjoyment of the night—and which will greatly disqualify you from discharging your duty to your employers.
"It is for these reasons," the father continues, "that your parents are unwilling to have you enter such scenes. We are satisfied that, on the whole, instead of increasing, they greatly diminish, the amount of human happiness. It is on this account that we have always been desirous that neither you nor your sisters should acquire a taste for these worldly pleasures—for our own observation, as well as the testimony of the wise and the holy in all ages, has taught us that these amusements, by breaking in upon the regular and peaceful enjoyment of domestic life, expose those who engage in them to great temptation—and by prematurely exhausting the mental and bodily powers, and undermining the constitution, seriously interfere with future happiness, and lead to imminent danger!
"And when our neighbors have wondered that we should so carefully keep you away from such scenes of gaiety and worldly amusements which to them appear innocent and pleasing—-we have replied, that we could make you far happier by cultivating in your heart a taste for a totally different class of pleasures.
"Such worldly pleasures, too, always leave a sting behind them. Discontent and dissatisfaction always take possession of the soul after a scene of unseasonable and excessive gaiety. This is always the case—in all ranks and conditions of life. Madame de Geniis, who moved in the highest circles of Parisian life, and was familiar with the gaieties of the Royal Palace in the highest of splendor, remarked that the days which followed brilliant entertainments were always melancholy.
"Therefore, my son," the father continues, "I counsel you not to go! Persevere in the plan of life which you have heretofore laid down for yourself. Come home, and spend the evening in quiet enjoyment with your mother, or your sisters—or by the perusal of some interesting volume from the library—acquire a taste for reading, and store your mind with useful knowledge. At your usual hour, retire to rest. You will then rise in the morning fresh and vigorous, and in good temper you will go to your duties. And as you see your associate in the adjoining store, who attended the ball, dozing in dejection, and lounging the whole day at his desk—you will be thankful that you were more wise than to sacrifice so much substantial good for a few hours of midnight merriment.
"By persevering in this course," the father continues, "you will more effectually secure to yourself the confidence of businessmen. Your credit will be better. Your prospects in life will be better. You will soon be able to have a home of your own. You will make that home more happy. Your life will glide away with far less danger of your falling before the power of temptation—and, consequently, there will be a far brighter prospect of your enjoying eternal happiness beyond the grave!"
This is, in the main, the argument upon which Christians rely, and have relied, during all past ages, against the amusements and gaieties of the world. They are fully convinced that he who acquires a taste for such pleasures, will find his earthly happiness greatly impaired, and will be exposed to temptations which will greatly endanger his eternal well-being.
I have dwelt upon this subject more fully, because the young—inexperienced in the dangers of the world—often wonder why their pious parents are so unwilling that they should acquire a fondness for worldly amusements which appear so innocent and pleasing. But I think that any ingenuous boy or girl, of fourteen or fifteen years of age, may see the force of the above considerations, and may be satisfied that Christians have not, in their decision upon this subject, acted without good reasons.
And here I do not intend to enter into the question whether these amusements might not be so far improved and refined as to obviate all objections against them. I wish to refer to them as they now are, and as they ever have been, and as there is every prospect that they will continue to be.
They are all of the same general character, leading to peculiar temptations, from the indulgence of bad passions, and the exposure of those who engage in them to unworthy associates. They all tend to destroy the taste for those quiet, domestic enjoyments, which, when cultivated, grow brighter and brighter every year, and which confer increasing solace and joy when youth has fled, and old age, and sickness, and misfortune come. Christian parents endeavor to guard their children against acquiring a taste for these worldly pleasures, because they foresee that these amusements will, in the end, disappoint them—and they can lead them in a safer path, and one infinitely more promotive of their happiness!
We have contemplated the influence of one of these scenes of gaiety upon a young man. Let us now consider its effects upon a mother of a family—or a young lady.
In the first place in the mere preparation for any assembly of worldly gaiety and dissipation, many hours are taken from the peaceful routine of ordinary duties—in devotion to dress and appearance. Then the temptation is almost irresistible, from the strong rivalry which is called into exercise, to make expenditures which can not be afforded. And then, when the midnight scene of gaiety is at its height, and music's voluptuous swell is loudest, and the smile on every cheek is least clouded—how many secret sources of chagrin are necessarily fostered, though studiously concealed! The spirit of the occasion has the strongest tendency to call into exercise the sinful passions of envy and rivalry. The superior dress of one lady—and the superior beauty of another—the comparative neglect with which one is treated—and the excessive attention which another receives—constitute the most fruitful source of vanity on the one side—and of jealousy and envy on the other.
The very nature of the enjoyment, and the whole spirit of the occasion, have the most direct tendency to call these feelings into active exercise. There is no place in which the wicked feelings of the heart are so frequently and so painfully excited—as in gay, glittering assemblies. To use the familiar language of the poet,
"Though the cheek may be tinged with a warm, sunny smile, The cold heart to ruin runs on darkly the while."
And when, long after midnight, fevered with the heated room and exciting exercise, the young lady returns to her home—how poorly she is prepared for the duties of devotion! In how unsuitable a frame of mind is she, acceptably to commune with God, and to commend herself anew, with an affectionate and a humble heart, to His service!
And then when another morning dawns, all the concerns of the family are in disorder. At a late hour she rises unrefreshed from her pillow. During the whole day she feels depressed in spirits, and unable to engage, with any satisfaction, in life's ordinary duties. It often requires one or two days of languor and melancholy for the system to recover its tone—from the exhaustion of the few hours of midnight revelry. Even allowing the pleasurable emotions of the convivial hours to be as great as anyone will venture to estimate them—the enjoyment must be considered as far more than counterbalanced, by the physical, moral and intellectual drawbacks which necessarily ensue.
And when we go a little farther; when we consider the inevitable termination of this life of pleasure—when we contemplate the victim—for victim we must consider her—of a mirthful and fashionable life, after having passed through the period of youth and vigor, with her faculties to these excitements worn out—her mind and heart satiated with those pursuits—and yet with no taste formed for more solid and satisfying joys—we regard her with the deepest pity—as an impressive warning for all the young to avoid those quicksands, upon which her happiness has been so fatally stranded!
When we turn to the Bible, to the character of our Savior and His apostles, we find these views confirmed by the weight of inspiration—so much so, indeed, that even the idea of our Savior, or the apostle Paul, taking an active part in such scenes, is so shocking to our feelings, that the very supposition is almost irreverent. And why is it that one shrinks from such an idea—but because the spirit of the Bible is so diametrically opposed to these amusements, that the mind recoils from the thought of connecting them with sacred personages?
And when we inquire of Christian testimony, we hear but one voice, which comes down from all past time, and from every nation—in attestation of the folly of a life of worldly pleasure. There are thousands now in our churches, who were once the devotees of worldly gaiety; and they will tell you, without a contradicting voice, that, since they have abandoned their former pursuits, and sought happiness in different objects, and cultivated a taste for different pleasures, they have found peace and satisfaction, which they never knew before—and they have no more disposition to turn back to these gaieties, than they have to resume the rattles of babyhood!
It is quite important that the young should understand the true reason of the decision, to which Christians have come upon this subject. It is not a gloomy and morose spirit that dictates this decision—or any desire to prohibit real pleasures. But we see that these gaieties are, in the end, promotive of far more sorrow than happiness—and therefore, we wish all whom we love, to walk in those ways of wisdom, which are pleasantness, and in those paths which are peace.
And hence, if parents would, in their own lives and in the lives of their children, bring forth the peaceable and joyful fruits of righteousness—they must avoid these scenes of gaiety! You must carefully guard against cultivating a taste for such worldly pleasures. There are, in this world, many avenues of enjoyment, where one may walk in safety. There are many joys which are improving to the heart, and which afford increasing happiness amid the infirmities of old age and approaching death—joys which, in the 'morning of life', are like the morning sunshine—and, in the 'evening of our days'—are like the serene and golden hues of a summer sunset. There are the joys of well-cultivated affections, of an improving mind, of friends, and love of home, of social converse at the quiet fireside, of the flower garden, of the domestic animal feeding from the hand it loves, of the twilight walk in solitude or company, of visiting the sick, and cheering the desponding.
There are enough sources of enjoyment which God has opened to us in this world, which are purifying in their nature—and which leave no sting behind. It is not necessary for us to search for happiness in dangerous and forbidden paths.
In all the ways pointed out in this chapter, the mother must endeavor to train up her children in the service of God. These are the practical duties of Christianity—duties which bring with them their own reward. There is no other path to heaven than that which is here pointed out—reliance upon an atoning Savior for the forgiveness of past sin, and faithful endeavors to live a devout and holy life.
They who will diligently and faithfully pursue such a course, will find the Savior's yoke indeed easy, and His burden light. Duty will continually become more easy and more pleasant. The propensities and passions, whose unrestrained dominion so often mar the peace of others, will cease to trouble them—being subdued by divine grace—and they will go on their way rejoicing to the end!
End of Chapter 6
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