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The Project Gutenberg eBook of Advice to a
wife and mother in two parts
 This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United
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Title: Advice to a wife and mother in two parts

Embracing advice to a wife, and advice to a mother

Author: Pye Henry Chavasse

Release date: October 15, 2023 [eBook #71887]

Language: English

Original publication: Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott & Co, 1881

Credits: Richard Tonsing, MFR, and the Online Distributed

Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADVICE TO A

WIFE AND MOTHER IN TWO PARTS ***
Transcriber's Note:
New original cover art included with this eBook is
granted to the public domain.
 ADVICE
TO A

WIFE AND MOTHER.

IN TWO PARTS.
EMBRACING

ADVICE TO A WIFE,
AND

ADVICE TO A MOTHER.

BY
PYE HENRY CHAVASSE.

SEVENTEENTH EDITION.

PHILADELPHIA:
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.
1881.
 ADVICE TO A WIFE
ON THE
MANAGEMENT OF HER OWN HEALTH,
AND ON THE
TREATMENT OF SOME OF THE COMPLAINTS
INCIDENTAL TO
PREGNANCY, LABOR, AND SUCKLING;
WITH AN
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER ESPECIALLY ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG
WIFE.

BY

PYE HENRY CHAVASSE,

FELLOW OF THE ROYAL COLLEGE OF SURGEONS OF ENGLAND; FELLOW
OF THE OBSTETRICAL SOCIETY OF LONDON; FORMERLY PRESIDENT OF
QUEEN’S COLLEGE MEDICO-CHIRURGICAL SOCIETY, BIRMINGHAM;
AUTHOR OF “ADVICE TO A MOTHER ON THE MANAGEMENT OF HER
CHILDREN.”

“Thy wife shall be as the fruitful vine upon the walls of thine house.”

SEVENTEENTH EDITION.

PHILADELPHIA:
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.

1881.
 TO

MY BIRMINGHAM PATIENTS,
MANY OF WHOM I HAVE ATTENDED FOR A PERIOD OF
UPWARDS OF THIRTY YEARS; SOME OF WHOM, HAVING
USHERED INTO THE WORLD, I AFTERWARD ATTENDED IN
THEIR OWN CONFINEMENTS; AND FROM ALL OF WHOM I
HAVE RECEIVED SO MUCH CONFIDENCE, COURTESY, AND
KINDNESS,

This little Volume is Dedicated,

BY THEIR SINCERE FRIEND,

PYE HENRY CHAVASSE

Priory House, Old Square,

Birmingham.
 PREFACE.

The sale of copies of this book is now to be reckoned by its tens of

thousands! The last, the Seventh Edition, comprising five thousand
copies, has been rapidly exhausted; a new Edition, the Eighth, is now
urgently called for; and as the sale of the work is so enormous, and so
extending, my worthy Publishers have deemed it advisable to publish
of this edition at once seven thousand copies,—thus making of the
two last editions alone twelve thousand copies; the two last editions
being, in fact, equal to twelve ordinary editions! Moreover, this book
has made me troops of friends, thus proving how much such a work
was needed, and how thoroughly my humble efforts have been
appreciated.
I have, in the Introductory Chapter especially addressed to a
Young Wife, had some plain and unpalatable truths to tell; but it is
absolutely necessary for a surgeon to probe a serious and deep-
seated wound to the bottom before he can perform a cure; he is
sometimes compelled to give pain before he can cure pain; he is
frequently obliged to administer bitter medicine before sweet health
can be restored. I have not shrunk from my duty; I have not uttered
an “uncertain sound:” but have, without fear or favor, boldly spoken
out, and have proclaimed what I have deemed to be the truth; the
vital importance of my subject must excuse my plain-speaking and
earnestness. When a person is on the edge of a precipice, and is
ready at any moment to topple over, the words of warning must not
be in the tones of a whisper, bland and gentle, but in the voice of
thunder, bold and decisive. I have had to discourse on matters of the
greatest moment to the well-being of wives; and have, therefore, in
order not to be misapprehended, had to call things by their right
names—the subject being of far too much importance to write in a
namby-pamby style, or to use any other language than that of the
plainest English.
 The Introductory Chapter is, I trust, greatly improved; many of the
quotations are either curtailed, or are altogether suppressed, in order
to make room, without materially increasing the size of the book, for
much new and important matter. The remaining pages have all been
carefully revised and corrected, and made more clear, and additional
advice, where needed, has been supplied. I therefore hope that this
edition will be still more worthy of its great and extending success,
and be the humble instrument of sowing broadcast through our land
advice most necessary for wives to know; and at the same time be the
means of dispelling prejudices which, in the lying-in room, are even,
in this our day, most rife and injurious.
Barren wives! delicate wives! unhealthy wives! are the order of the
day—are become institutions of the country—are so common as not
to be considered strange, but to be, as a matter of course, as part and
parcel of our everyday life! Should such things be? I emphatically say
No! But then a thorough change, a complete reformation, must take
place in the life and habits of a wife. It is no use blinking the
question; the truth, the whole truth, must come out, and the sooner
it is told the better. Oh! it is sad that the glorious mission of a wife
should, as it often does, end so ingloriously! Broken health, neglected
duties, a childless home, blighted hopes, misery, and discontent.
What an awful catalogue of the consequences of luxury, of
stimulants, of fashion, of ignorance, and of indolence—the five
principal wife and babe destroyers! Sure I am that the foregoing
melancholy results may, in the generality of cases, by timely and
judicious treatment, be prevented.
This is an age of stimulants—’tis the curse of the day; wine, in
excess, instead of being an element of strength, is one of weakness;
instead of encouraging fecundity, is one of its greatest preventives. A
lady who drinks daily five or six glasses of wine, is invariably weak,
low, hysterical, and “nervous,”—complaining that she can neither
eat, nor sleep, nor take exercise; she is totally unfit for the duties and
responsibilities of either wife or mother. I shall endeavor in the
following pages to prove the truth of these bold assertions.
Many young married ladies now drink as much wine in a day as
their grandmothers did in a week; and which I verily believe is one
cause of so few children, and of so much barrenness among them. It
is no use: the subject is too important to allow false delicacy to stand
in the way of this announcement; the truth must be told; the ulcer
which is eating into the vitals of society must be probed; the danger,
the folly, the wickedness of the system must be laid bare; the battle
must be fought; and as no medical man has come forward to begin
the conflict, I myself boldly throw down the gauntlet, and will, to the
best of my strength and ability, do battle in the cause.
It is the abuse and not the use of wine that I am contending
against. I am not advocating teetotal principles—certainly not. The
one system is as absurd and as wrong as the other; extremes, either
way, are most injurious to the constitution both of man and woman.
The advice of St. Paul is glorious advice: “Use a little wine for thy
stomach’s sake and thine often infirmities;” and again, when he says,
“be temperate in all things.” These are my sentiments, and which I
have, in the following pages, so earnestly contended for.
A lady who “eats without refreshment, and slumbers without
repose,” is deeply to be pitied, even though she be as rich as Crœsus,
or as beautiful as Venus! Nothing can compensate for the want of
either sleep or appetite; life without proper appetite and without
refreshing sleep will soon become a wearisome burden too heavy to
bear. It is high time, when there are so many of the Young Wives of
England, alas! too many, who daily “eat without refreshment,” and
who nightly “slumber without repose,” that the subject was
thoroughly looked into, and that proper means were suggested to
abate the calamity. One of the principal objects of this book is to
throw light upon the subject, and to counsel measures to remedy the
evil.
The large number of barren wives in England has, in these pages,
had my careful and earnest consideration. I have endeavored, to the
best of my ability, to point out, as far as the wives themselves are
concerned, many of the causes, and have advised remedies to abate
the same. It is quite time, when the health among the wives of the
higher classes is so much below par, and when children among them
are so few, that the causes should be thoroughly inquired into, and
that the treatment should be extensively made known. The subject is
of immense, indeed I might even say, of national importance, and
demands deep and earnest thought and careful investigation, as the
strength and sinews of a nation depend mainly upon the number and
healthfulness of her children.
 Barren land can generally, with care and skill, be made fertile; an
unfruitful vine can frequently, by an experienced gardener, be
converted into a fruit-bearing one; a childless wife can often, by
judicious treatment, be made a child-bearing one. Few things in this
world are impossible: “where there is a will there is generally a way;”
but if there be a will, it must be a determined and a persevering will;
if there be a way, the way, however rough and rugged, must be
trodden,—the rough and rugged path will, as she advances onward,
become smooth and pleasant.
It is not the poor woman, who works hard and who lives hard, that
is usually barren—certainly not: she has generally an abundance of
children; but it is the rich lady—the one who is indolent, who lives
luxuriously, and fares sumptuously every day—who leads a
fashionable, and therefore an unnatural life—who turns night into
day, who at night breathes suffocatingly hot rooms, who lives in a
whirl of excitement, who retires not to rest until the small hours of
the morning,—such a one is the one that is frequently barren; and
well she might be,—it would be most strange if she were not so. One
of the objects of this book will be to point out these causes, and to
suggest remedies for the same, and thus to stem the torrent, and in
some measure to do away with the curse of barrenness which in
England, at the present time, so fearfully prevails.
I have undertaken a responsible task, but have thrown my whole
energy and ability into it; I therefore have no excuse to make that I
have not thought earnestly and well upon the subject, or that I have
written unadvisedly; my thoughts and studies have for years been
directed to these matters. I earnestly hope, then, that I have not
written in vain, but that the seeds now sown will, in due time, bring
forth much fruit.
Although my two books—Advice to a Wife and Advice to a Mother
—are published as separate works, they might, in point of fact, be
considered as one volume—one only being the continuation of the
other. Advice to a Wife, treating on a mother’s own health, being, as
it were, a preparation for Advice to a Mother on the management of
her children’s health; it is quite necessary that the mother herself
should be healthy to have healthy children; and if she have healthy
offspring, it is equally important that she should be made thoroughly
acquainted how to keep them in health. The object of Advice to a
Wife and Advice to a Mother is for that end; indeed, the acquisition
and the preservation of sound health, of mother and of child, have, in
both my books, been my earnest endeavor, my constant theme, the
beginning and the ending, the sum and the substance of my
discourse, on which all else beside hinges.
I again resign this book into the hands of my fair readers, hoping
that it may be of profit and of service to them during the whole
period of their wifehood; and especially during the most interesting
part of their lives—in their hour of anguish and of trial; and that it
may be the humble means of making a barren woman “to be a joyful
mother of children.”
PYE HENRY CHAVASSE

Priory House, Old Square,

Birmingham.
 CONTENTS.

PAGES
Dedication iii
Preface to Eighth Edition v–x
Introductory Chapter 13–102

PART I.
On Menstruation 103–116

PART II.
On Pregnancy 117–198

PART III.
On Labor 199–254

PART IV.
On Suckling 255–300

Index 301–309
 Advice to a Wife.

A good wife is Heaven’s last, best gift to man—his angel and minister of graces
innumerable—his gem of many virtues—his casket of jewels. Her voice is sweet
music, her smiles his brightest day, her kiss the guardian of his innocence, her
arms the pale of his safety, the balm of his health, the balsam of his life; her
industry his surest wealth, her economy his safest steward, her lips his faithful
counselors, her bosom the softest pillow of his cares, and her prayers the ablest
advocate of Heaven’s blessings on his head.—Jeremy Taylor.

Of earthly goods, the best is a good Wife;

A bad, the bitterest curse of human life.—Simonides.
 INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER.

1. It may be well—before I enter on the subjects of menstruation, of

pregnancy, of labor, and suckling—to offer a few preliminary
observations, especially addressed to a Young Wife.
2. My subject is health—the care, the restoration, and the
preservation of health—one of the most glorious subjects that can be
brought before a human being, and one that should engross much of
our time and of our attention, and one that cannot be secured unless
it be properly attended to. The human frame is, as every one knows,
constantly liable to be out of order; it would be strange, indeed, if a
beautiful and complex instrument like the human body were not
occasionally out of tune:
“Strange that a harp with a thousand strings
Should keep in tune so long.”

3. The advice I am about to offer to my fair reader is of the greatest

importance, and demands her deepest attention. How many wives
are there with broken health, with feeble constitutions, and with
childless homes! Their number is legion! It is painful to contemplate
that, in our country, there are far more unhealthy than healthy
wives! There must surely be numerous causes for such a state of
things! A woman, born with every perfection, to be full of bodily
infirmities! It was ordained by the Almighty that wives should be
fruitful and multiply! Surely there must be something wrong in the
present system if they do not do so!
4. It will, in the following pages, be my object to point out many of
the causes of so much ill health among wives; ill health that
sometimes leads to barrenness; and to suggest remedies both for the
prevention and for the cure of such causes.
5. It is an astounding and lamentable fact, that one out of eight—
that twelve and a half per cent. of all the wives of England are barren,
are childless! A large majority of this twelve and a half per cent.
might be made fruitful, if a more judicious plan of procedure than is
at present pursued were adopted.
6. My anxious endeavors, in the following pages, will be to point
out remedies for the evil, and to lay down rules—rules which, I hope,
my fair reader will strenuously follow.
7. My theme, then, is Health—the Health of Wives—and the object
I shall constantly have in view will be the best means both of
preserving it and of restoring it when lost. By making a wife strong,
she will not only, in the majority of cases, be made fruitful, but
capable of bringing healthy children into the world. This latter
inducement is of great importance; for puny children are not only an
anxiety to their parents, but a misery to themselves, and a trouble to
all around! Besides, it is the children of England that are to be her
future men and women—her glory and her greatness! How desirable
it is, then, that her children should be hardy and strong!
8. A wife may be likened to a fruit tree, a child to its fruit. We all
know that it is as impossible to have fine fruit from an unhealthy tree
as to have a fine child from an unhealthy mother. In the one case, the
tree either does not bear fruit at all—is barren—or it bears
undersized, tasteless fruit,—fruit which often either immaturely
drops from the tree, or, if plucked from the tree, is useless; in the
other case, the wife either does not bear children—she is barren—or
she has frequent miscarriages—“untimely fruit”—or she bears puny,
sickly children, who often either drop into an early grave, or, if they
live, probably drag out a miserable existence. You may as well expect
“to gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles,” as healthy children
from unhealthy parents!
9. Unhealthy parents, then, as a matter of course have unhealthy
children; this is as truly the case as the night follows the day, and
should deter both man and woman so circumstanced from marrying.
There are numerous other complaints besides scrofula and insanity
inherited and propagated by parents. It is a fearful responsibility,
both to men and women, if they be not healthy, to marry. The result
must, as a matter of course, be misery!
10. If a wife is to be healthy and strong, she must use the means—
she must sow before she can reap; health will not come by merely
wishing for it! The means are not always at first agreeable; but, like
many other things, habit makes them so. Early rising, for instance, is
not agreeable to the lazy, and to one fond of her bed; but it is
essentially necessary to sound health. Exercise is not agreeable to the
indolent; but no woman can be really strong without it. Thorough
ablution of the whole body is distasteful and troublesome to one not
accustomed to much washing—to one laboring under a kind of
hydrophobia; but there is no perfect health without the daily
cleansing of the whole skin.
11. But all these processes entail trouble. True: is anything in this
world to be done without trouble? and is not the acquisition of
precious health worth trouble? Yes, it is worth more than all our
other acquisitions put together! Life without health is a burden; life
with health is a joy and gladness! Up, then, and arouse yourself, and
be doing! No time is to be lost if you wish to be well, to be a mother,
and to be a mother of healthy children. The misfortune of it is, many
ladies are more than half asleep, and are not aroused to danger till
danger stares them in the face; they are not cognizant of ill health
slowly creeping upon them, until, in too many cases, the time is gone
by for relief, and ill health has become confirmed—has become a part
and parcel of themselves; they do not lock the stable until the steed
be stolen; they do not use the means until the means are of no avail:
“Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,
Which we ascribe to Heaven: the fated sky
Gives us free scope; only doth backward pull
Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull.”[1]

12. Idleness is the mother of many diseases; she breeds them,

feeds them, and fosters them, and is, moreover, a great enemy to
fecundity. Idleness makes people miserable. I have heard a young
girl—surrounded with every luxury—bemoan her lot, and complain
that she was most unhappy in consequence of not having anything to
do, and who wished that she had been a servant, so that she might
have been obliged to work for her living. Idleness is certainly the
hardest work in the world.
13. It frequently happens that a lady, surrounded with every luxury
and every comfort, drags out a miserable existence; she cannot say
that she ever, even for a single day, really feels well and strong. This
is not to live—
 “For life is not to live, but to be well.”[2]

14. If a person be in perfect health, the very act of living is itself

thorough enjoyment, the greatest this world can ever bestow. How
needful it therefore is that all necessary instruction should be
imparted to every Young Wife, and that proper means should, in
every way, be used to insure health!
15. The judicious spending of the first year of married life is of the
greatest importance in the making and in the strengthening of a
wife’s constitution, and in preparing her for having a family. How
sad it is, then, that it is the first twelve months that is, as a rule,
especially chosen to mar and ruin her own health, and to make her
childless! The present fashionable system of spending the first few
months of married life in a round of visiting, of late hours, and in
close and heated rooms, calls loudly for a change. How many
valuable lives have been sacrificed to such a custom! How many
miscarriages, premature births, and still-born children, have resulted
therefrom! How many homes have been made childless—desolate—
by it! Time it is that common sense should take the place of such
folly! The present system is abominable, is rotten at the core, and is
fraught with the greatest danger to human life and human
happiness. How often a lady is, during the first year of her wifehood,
gadding out night after night,—one evening to a dinner party, the
next night to private theatricals, the third to an evening party, the
fourth to the theater, the fifth to a ball, the sixth to a concert, until in
some cases every night except Sunday night is consumed in this way,
—coming home frequently in the small hours of the morning,
through damp or fog, or rain or snow, feverish, flushed, and excited
—too tired until the morning to sleep, when she should be up, out,
and about. When the morning dawns she falls into a heavy,
unrefreshing slumber, and wakes not until noon, tired, and unfit for
the duties of the day! Night after night—gas, crowded rooms,
carbonic acid gas, late hours, wine, and excitement are her portion.
As long as such a plan is adopted the preacher preacheth but in vain.
Night after night, week after week, month after month, this game is
carried on, until at length either an illness or broken health
supervenes. Surely these are not the best means to insure health and
a family and healthy progeny! The fact is, a wife nowadays is too
artificial; she lives on excitement; it is like drinking no wine but
champagne, and, like champagne taken in excess, it soon plays sad
havoc with her constitution. The pure and exquisite enjoyments of
nature are with her too commonplace, tame, low, and vulgar. How
little does such a wife know of the domestic happiness so graphically
and sweetly described by that poet of the affections, Cowper:
“Fireside enjoyments, home-born happiness,
And all the comforts that the lowly roof
Of undisturb’d retirement, and the hours
Of long uninterrupted evening, know.”

16. A fashionable lady might say, “I cannot give up fashionable

amusements; I must enjoy myself as others do; I might as well be out
of the world as out of the fashion.” To such a one I reply, “I myself
am not a fashionist—it is not in my line; and as in the following pages
I have to tell some plain unvarnished truths, my advice to you is,
close this book at once and read no more of it, as such a work as this
cannot be of the slightest use to you, however it might be to one who
values health ‘as a jewel of great price’—as one of her most precious
earthly possessions.” Really the subject is assuming such a serious
aspect that it behooves a medical man to speak out plainly and
unreservedly, and to call things by their right names. Fashion is
oftentimes but another name for suicide and for baby-slaughter—for
“massacre of the innocents!” God help the poor unfortunate little
child whose mother is a votary of fashion, who spends her time in a
round and whirl of fashionable life, and leaves her child to the tender
mercies of servants, who “gang their ain gait,” and leave their little
charge to do the same. Such a mother is more unnatural than a wild
beast; for a wild beast, as a rule, is gentle, tender, and attentive to its
offspring, scarcely ever for a moment allowing its young to be out of
its sight. Truly, fashionable life deadens the feelings and affections. I
am quite aware that what I have just now written will, by many
fashionable ladies, be pooh-poohed, and be passed by as “the idle
wind.” They love their pleasures far above either their own or their
children’s health, and will not allow anything, however precious, to
interfere with them; but still I have confidence that many of my
judicious readers will see the truth and justness of my remarks, and
will profit by them.
17. A round of visiting, a succession of rich living, and a want of
rest during the first year of a wife’s life, often plays sad havoc with
her health, and takes away years from her existence. Moreover, such
proceedings often mar the chances of her ever becoming a mother,
and then she will have real cause to grieve over her fatuity.
18. A French poet once sung that a house without a child is like a
garden without a flower, or like a cage without a bird. The love of
offspring is one of the strongest instincts implanted in woman; there
is nothing that will compensate for the want of children. A wife
yearns for them; they are as necessary to her happiness as the food
she eats and as the air she breathes. If this be true—which, I think,
cannot be gainsayed—how important is our subject,—one of the most
important that can in this world engage one’s attention, requiring
deep consideration and earnest study.
19. The first year of a married woman’s life generally determines
whether, for the remainder of her existence, she shall be healthy and
strong, or shall be delicate and weak; whether she shall be the
mother of fine, healthy children, or—if, indeed, she be a mother at all
—of sickly, undersized offspring—
“Born but to weep, and destined to sustain
A youth of wretchedness, an age of pain.”[3]

If she be not a parent, her mission in life will be only half

performed, and she will be robbed of the greatest happiness this
world can afford. The delight of a mother, on first calling a child her
own, is exquisite, and is beautifully expressed in the following lines—
“He was my ain, and dear to me
As the heather-bell to the honey-bee,
Or the braird to the mountain hare.”[4]

20. I should recommend a young wife to remember the

momentous mission she has to fulfill; to ponder on the importance of
bringing healthy children into the world; to bear in mind the high
duties that she owes herself, her husband, her children, and society;
to consider well the value of health—“The first wealth is health;”[5]
and never to forget that “life has its duties ever.”[6]
21. A young married lady ought at once to commence to take
regular and systematic out-door exercise, which might be done
without in the least interfering with her household duties. There are
few things more conducive to health than walking exercise; and one
advantage of our climate is, that there are but few days in the year in
which, at some period of the day, it might not be taken. Walking—I
mean a walk, not a stroll—is a glorious exercise; it expands the chest
and throws back the shoulders; it strengthens the muscles; it
promotes digestion, making a person digest almost any kind of food;
it tends to open the bowels, and is better than any aperient pill ever
invented; it clears the complexion, giving roses to the cheeks and
brilliancy to the eye, and, in point of fact, is one of the greatest
beautifiers in the world. It exhilarates the spirits like a glass of
champagne, but, unlike champagne, it never leaves a headache
behind. If ladies would walk more than they do, there would be fewer
lackadaisical, useless, complaining wives than there at present are;
and, instead of having a race of puny children, we should have a race
of giants. Walking exercise is worthy of all commendation, and is
indispensable to content, health, strength, and comeliness. Of
course, if a lady be pregnant, walking must then be cautiously
pursued; but still, walking in moderation is even then absolutely
necessary, and tends to keep off many of the wretchedly depressing
symptoms, often, especially in a first pregnancy, accompanying that
state. I am quite sure that there is nothing more conducive to health
than the wearing out of lots of shoe-leather and that leather is
cheaper than physic.
22. Walking is even more necessary in the winter than in the
summer. If the day be cold, and the roads be dirty, provided it be dry
above, I should advise my fair reader to put on thick boots and a
warm shawl, and to brave the weather. Even if there be a little rain
and much wind, if she be well wrapped up, neither the rain nor the
wind will harm her. A little sprinkling of rain, provided the rules of
health be followed, will not give her cold. Much wind will not blow
her away. She must, if she wishes to be strong, fight against it; the
conflict will bring the color to her cheek and beauty to her eye.
23. Let her exert herself; let her mind conquer any indolence of the
body; let her throw off her lethargy—it only requires a little
determination; let her be up and doing; for life, both to man and
woman, is a battle, and must be fought valiantly.
24. Bear in mind, then, that if a lady is to be healthy, she must take
exercise, and that not by fits and starts, but regularly and
systematically. A stroll is of little use; she must walk! And let there be
no mistake about it, for Nature will have her dues: the muscles
require to be tired, and not to be trifled with; the lungs ask for the
revivifying air of heaven, and not for the stifling air of a close room;
the circulation demands the quickening influence of a brisk walk,
and not to be made stagnant by idleness.
25. This world was never made for idleness; everything around and
about us tells of action and of progress. Idle people are miserable
people; idle people are diseased people; there is no mistake about it.
There is no substitute in this world for exercise and for occupation;
neither physic nor food will keep people in health; they must be up
and doing, and buckle on their armor, and fight, as every one has to
fight, the battle of life! Mr. Milne, the master of the North
Warwickshire hounds, lately, at a hunt dinner, pithily remarked “that
fox-hunting was the best physic for improving a bad constitution.” I
am quite sure, with regard to the fair sex, that an abundance of
walking exercise and of household occupation is decidedly the best
physic for improving a lady’s constitution, more especially if she
have, as unfortunately too many of them have, a bad one; indeed, an
abundance of walking exercise and of household occupation will
frequently convert a bad into a good constitution.
26. Moreover, there is not a greater beautifier in the world than
fresh air and exercise; a lady who lives half her time in the open air,
in God’s sunshine, and who takes plenty of walking exercise, has
generally a clear and beautiful complexion—
“She looks as clear
As morning roses newly washed with dew.”[7]

27. Do not let me be misunderstood: I am not advocating that a

delicate lady, unaccustomed to exercise, should at once take violent
and long-continued exercise; certainly not. Let a delicate lady learn
to take exercise, as a young child would learn to walk—by degrees;
let her creep, and then go; let her gradually increase her exercise, and
let her do nothing either rashly or unadvisedly. If a child attempted
to run before he could walk, he would stumble and fall. A delicate
lady requires just as much care in the training to take exercise as a
child does in the learning to walk; but exercise must be learned and
must be practiced, if a lady, or any one else, is to be healthy and
strong. Unfortunately, in this our day the importance of exercise as a
means of health is but little understood and but rarely practiced;
notwithstanding, a lady may rest assured that until a “change comes
o’er the spirit of her dreams,” ill health will be her daily and constant
companion.
28. A lady should walk early in the morning, and not late in the
evening. The dews of evening are dangerous, and are apt to give
severe colds, fevers, and other diseases. Dew is more likely to cause
cold than rain—
“The dews of the evening most carefully shun—
Those tears of the sky for the loss of the sun.”[8]

29. A breath of wind is not allowed to blow on many a fair face.

The consequence is, that her cheek becomes sallow, wan, “as wan as
clay,” and bloodless, or if it has a color it is the hectic flush, which
tells of speedy decay!
30. Sitting over the fire will spoil her complexion, causing it to be
muddy, speckled, and sallow. The finest complexion in a lady I ever
saw belonged to one who would never go, even in the coldest
weather, near the fire: although she was nearly thirty years of age,
her cheeks were like roses, and she had the most beautiful red and
white I ever beheld; it reminded me of Shakspeare’s matchless
description of a complexion:—
“’Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white
Nature’s own sweet and cunning hand laid on.”

31. Sitting over the fire will make her chilly, nervous, dyspeptic,
and dispirited. It will cause her to be more chilly, and thus will make
her more susceptible of catching cold; and it will frequently produce
chilblains. If she be cold, the sitting over the fire will only warm her
for the time, and will make her feel more starved when she leaves it.
Crouching over the fire, as many do, is ruination to health and
strength and comeliness! Sitting over the fire will make her nervous:
the heat from the fire is weakening beyond measure to the nerves. It
will disorder and enfeeble her stomach—for nothing debilitates the
stomach like great heat—and thus make her dyspeptic; and if she be
dyspeptic, she will, she must be dispirited. The one follows the other
as surely as the night follows the day.
 32. If sitting over the fire be hurtful, sitting with the back to the
fire is still more so. The back to the fire often causes both sickness
and faintness, injures the spine, and weakens the spinal marrow, and
thus debilitates the whole frame.
33. A walk on a clear, frosty morning is as exhilarating to the
spirits as the drinking of champagne—with this difference, that on
the day following the head is improved by the one, but not always by
the other. Simple nature’s pleasures are the most desirable—they
leave no sting behind them!
34. There is nothing like a long walk to warm the body and to
make the blood course merrily through the blood-vessels. I consider
it to be a great misfortune that my fair countrywomen do not use
their legs more and their carriages less. “As to exercise, few women
care to take it for mere health’s sake. The rich are too apt to think
that riding in a close varnish-smelling carriage ought to be a very
good substitute for muscular struggles in the open air.”[9]
35. Unfortunately this is an age of luxury. Everything is artificial,
and disease and weakness, and even barrenness, follow as a matter of
course. In proof of my assertion that this is an age of luxury, look at
the present sumptuous style of living: carriages rolling about in every
direction; dining-tables groaning under the weight of rich dinners,
and expensive wines flowing like water; grand dresses sweeping the
streets, almost doing away with the necessity for scavengers. I say,
advisedly, streets; for green fields are, unfortunately, scarcely ever
visited by ladies. We are almost, in extravagance, rivaling ancient
Rome just before luxury sapped her strength and laid her in ruins!
36. If a lady has to travel half a mile she must have her carriage.
Strange infatuation! Is she not aware that she has hundreds of
muscles that want exercising? that she has lungs that require
expanding? that she has nerves that demand bracing? that she has
blood that needs circulating? And how does she think that the
muscles can be exercised, that the lungs can be expanded, that the
nerves can be braced, and that the blood can be properly circulated,
unless these are all made to perform their proper functions by an
abundance of walking exercise? It is utterly impossible!
37. Does she desire to be strong? Then let her take exercise! Does
she hope to retain her bloom and her youthful appearance, and still
to look charming in the eyes of her husband? Then let her take
exercise! Does she wish to banish nervousness and low spirits? Then
let her take exercise! There is nothing standing still in Nature: if it
were, creation would languish and die. There is a perpetual motion!
And so must we be constantly employed (when not asleep), if we are
to be healthy and strong! Nature will not be trifled with; these are
her laws[10]—immutable and unchangeable, and we cannot infringe
them with impunity:
“Labor is life! ’Tis the still water faileth;
Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth;
Keep the watch wound, for the dark night assaileth;
Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon.
Labor is glory! The flying cloud lightens;
Only the waving wing changes and brightens;
Idle hearts only the dark future frightens;
Play the sweet keys, would’st thou keep them in tune!”

38. If a newly-married woman be delicate, as, unfortunately, too

many are, she may be made to bear exercise well, provided she
begins by taking a short walk at first—be it ever so short—and by
gradually increasing it until she be able to take a tolerably long one.
She might find it irksome at the beginning, and might be inclined to
give it up in despair; but if she value her health and happiness, let me
urge her to persevere, and she may depend upon it that she will be
amply rewarded for her trouble.
39. A delicate lady frequently complains of cold feet; she has
neither sufficient food nor sufficient exercise to keep them warm.
Walking and plenty of nourishment are the best remedies she can
use to warm them. If they be cold before retiring to rest—a frequent
cause of keeping her awake—let her walk briskly for half an hour,
before undressing for the night, about either the hall, or the landing,
or a large room.
40. Some ladies declare that they are always cold, their feet
especially, which are as cold as ice! The fact is, they not only do not
take exercise enough, but they do not take nourishment enough—
breakfast especially—to keep them warm. Many ladies really and
truly half starve themselves; they consider it to be vulgar to eat
much, and to satisfy their appetite! they deem it low to take a long
walk: every poor woman can do that! it is much more easy and
pleasant to loll back in an easy carriage, and to be rolled along!
Truly; but if carriage exercise be more agreeable, is it as healthful?
Certainly not: there is very little exercise in riding in a carriage; but
every organ, muscle, nerve, and blood-vessel of the body is put into
beneficial action by walking. Walking is essential to health; there is
no substitute for it; there certainly is no perfect health without it.
41. The reason why my fair countrywomen take so much opening
medicine is the want of exercise. How truly it has been said that
“physic, for the most part, in nothing else but the substitute of
exercise and temperance.”
42. I consider it to be a grievous misfortune for any one—man,
woman, or child—who cannot, without the frequent taking of physic,
keep their bowels regular. When such is the case there is something
wrong, very wrong, about her system and about her proceedings, and
the sooner the matter is inquired into and rectified the better. The
necessity of a constant swallowing of opening medicine is a proof of
chronic ill health, and will in time injure her constitution beyond
remedy. I cannot speak too strongly on this subject; I have, in my
professional experience, seen so much mischief and misery caused
by the frequent swallowing of opening pills, that I should not do my
duty if I did not raise my voice against the abominable custom. Why,
many ladies make a practice, during the whole of their lives, of taking
two or three times a week opening pills! The bowels, they say, will
not act without them; but I maintain that if they would resolutely
refrain from swallowing them, and adopt the rules of health laid
down in these pages, they would be able altogether to dispense with
them, to their great benefit and delectation. But then the rules of
health require trouble and perseverance—(and what that is worth
having does not?)—while the swallowing of a couple of pills might be
done quickly, and with very little trouble; but although the frequent
taking of pills gives at the time but little trouble, they cause much
trouble afterwards! Look, then, at the results of each system, and
decide accordingly! It has been said that “gluttony kills more than
the sword;” my conviction is, that the constant taking of opening
medicine kills more than gluttony and the sword combined! The
abuse of aperients is one of the crying evils of the day, and who so
proper as a medical man to raise his voice to suppress, or at all
events to lessen, the evil?
 43. If a lady be costive, and is in consequence inclined to take a
dose of physic, let me advise her to take instead a long walk, which
will in the majority of cases do her vastly more good; and if requiring
repetition, the one is far more agreeable, and the effects are much
more likely to be lasting than the other. Exercise, I am quite sure, is,
as a rule, in the long run much more effectual and beneficial than
opening physic.
44. A newly-married wife ought to be cautious in the taking of
horse exercise. As long as she be not pregnant, horse exercise is very
beneficial to health, and is a great enjoyment; but the moment
symptoms of pregnancy develop themselves, she must instantly give
it up, or it will probably cause her to miscarry.
45. Let her breathe the pure air of heaven, rather than the close
contaminated air either of an assembly or of a concert-room. The air
of an assembly or of a concert-room is contaminated with carbonic
acid gas. The gas-lights and the respiration of numbers of persons
give off carbonic acid gas, which gas is highly poisonous.
46. The truth of this assertion is patent to every one who will
observe the effects that a large assembly, more especially in the
evening, when the gas or candles are flaring away, has on the system;
the headache, the oppression, the confusion of ideas, the loss of
appetite, the tired feeling, followed by a restless night—all tell a tale,
and loudly proclaim that either an assembly or a concert-room is not
a fit place for a young wife desirous of having a family.
47. Let a young married lady attend well to the ventilation of her
house. She may depend upon it that ventilation, thorough
ventilation, will prove one of the best friends she has in the world.
Let her give directions to her servant to have early every morning
every window in the house opened, as the morning air is fresher and
sweeter than it is later in the day. “For ventilation, open your
windows both at top and bottom. The fresh air rushes in one way,
while the foul makes its exit the other. This is letting in your friend
and expelling your enemy.”[11] This opening of the window, top and
bottom, of course applies only to the rooms that are unoccupied:—in
an occupied room in hot weather one sash only—the lower, as a rule,
is best—ought to be opened. If the upper be lowered when the room
is occupied, the cold air is apt to strike on the top of the head, and to
give cold.
 48. Let her give orders that every chimney in the house be
unstopped, and let her see for herself that her orders have been
obeyed; for servants, if they have the chance, will stop up chimneys,
as they are fully aware that dust and dirt will come down chimneys,
and that it will give them a little extra work to do. But the mistress
has to see to the health of herself and of her household, which is of
far more consequence than either a little dirt or extra work for her
servants.
49. She may rest assured that it is utterly impossible for herself
and for her family to have perfect health if the chimneys are allowed
to be stopped. I assert this fearlessly, for I have paid great attention
to the subject. If the chimney be stopped, the apartment must
necessarily become contaminated with carbonic acid gas, the refuse
of respiration, which is, as I have before stated, a deadly poison.
50. Chimneys, in many country houses, are permanently and
hermetically stopped: if we have the ill-fortune to sleep in such
rooms, we feel half-suffocated. Sleep, did I say? No! tumble and toss
are the right words to express the real meaning; for in such chambers
very little sleep do we get,—unless, indeed, we open the windows to
let in the air, which, in such an extremity, is the only thing, if we wish
to get a wink of sleep, we can do! Stopped-up bedroom chimneys is
one and an important reason why some persons do not derive the
benefit they otherwise would do of change of air to the country.
51. I unhesitatingly declare that ninety-nine bedrooms out of every
hundred are badly ventilated; that in the morning, after they have
been slept in, they are full both of impure and of poisoned air. I say,
advisedly, impure and poisoned air, for the air becomes foul and
deadly if not perpetually changed—if not constantly mixed, both by
day and by night, with fresh, pure, external air. Many persons, by
breathing the same air over and over again, are literally “poisoned by
their own breaths!” This is not an exaggerated statement—alas, it is
too true! Let every young wife remember that she requires just as
much pure air in the night as in the day; and if she does not have it,
her sleep will neither refresh her nor strengthen her, but that she will
rise in the morning more weary than on the previous night when she
retired to rest.
52. The way to make a house healthy, and to keep off disease, is by
thorough ventilation—by allowing a current of air, both by day and
by night, to constantly enter and to sweep through the house, and
every room of the house. This may be done either by open skylight or
by open landing windows, which should always be left open; and by
allowing every chamber window to be wide open during the day, and
every chamber door to be a little open both by night and by day,
having a door-chain on each door during the night to prevent
intrusion.
53. Let her, if she can, live in the country. In a town, coal fires—
manufactories, many of them unhealthy—confined space—the
exhalations from the lungs and from the skin of the inhabitants,
numbers of them diseased,—all tend to load the air with impurities.
Moreover, if in the town she desire a walk, it is often itself a walk,
and a long one too, before she can get into the country—before she
can obtain glimpses of green fields and breathe the fresh air; hence
walks in the town do but comparatively little good. In the country her
lungs are not cheated: they get what they want—a good article, pure
air—and the eye and heart are both gladdened with the beauties of
nature. I consider the following remark of Dr. Grosvenor, in his
excellent Essay on Health, very pertinent. He observes: “Hence it is
that one seldom sees in cities, courts, and rich houses, where people
eat and drink, and indulge in the pleasure of appetite, that perfect
health and athletic soundness and vigor which is commonly seen in
the country, in the poor houses and cottages, where nature is their
cook and necessity is their caterer, where they have no other doctor
but the sun and fresh air, and no other physic but exercise and
temperance.”
54. Cold air is frequently looked upon as an enemy, instead of
being contemplated as, what it really is to a healthy person, a friend.
The effect of cold upon the stomach is well exemplified in a walk in
frosty weather, producing an appetite. “Cold air,” says Dr. Cullen,
“applied with exercise, is a most powerful tonic with respect to the
stomach; and this explains why, for that purpose, no exercise within
doors, or in close carriages, is so useful as that in the open air.”
55. Hot and close rooms, soft cushions, and luxurious couches
must be eschewed. I have somewhere read, that if a fine, healthy
whelp of the bull-dog species were fed upon chicken, rice, and
delicacies, and made to lie upon soft cushions, and if, for some
months, he were shut up in a close room, when he grew up he would
become unhealthy, weak, and spiritless. So it is with a young married
woman; the more she indulges, the more unhealthy, weak, and
inanimate she becomes—unfit to perform the duties of a wife and the
offices of a mother, if, indeed, she be a mother at all!
56. Rich and luxurious ladies are less likely to be blessed with a
family than poor and hard-worked women. Here is, to a vengeance,
compensation! Compensation usually deals very justly both to man
and womankind. For instance, riches and childlessness, poverty and
children, laziness and disease, hard work and health, a hard-earned
crust and contentment, a gilded chamber and discontent—
“These are ofttimes wedded as a man and wife,
And linked together, hand in hand, through life.”

Riches seldom bring health, content, many children, and happiness;

they more frequently cause disease, discontent, childlessness, and
misery.[12] Riches and indolence are often as closely united as the
Siamese twins, disease and death frequently following in their train.
“Give me neither poverty nor riches” was a glorious saying of the
wisest of men. Rich and luxurious living, then, is very antagonistic to
fecundity. This might be one reason why poor curates’ wives and
poor Irish women generally have such large families. It has been
proved by experience that a diet, principally consisting of milk,
buttermilk, and vegetables, is more conducive to fecundity than a
diet almost exclusively of meat. In illustration of my argument, the
poor Irish, who have usually such enormous families, live almost
exclusively on buttermilk and potatoes; they scarcely eat meat from
year’s end to year’s end. Riches, if it prevent a lady from having
children, is an evil and a curse, rather than a good and a blessing; for,
after all, the greatest treasures in this world are “household
treasures”—healthy children! If a wife be ever so rich, and she be
childless, she is, as a rule, discontented and miserable. Many a
married lady would gladly give up half her worldly possessions to be
a mother; and well she might—children are far more valuable. I have
heard a wife exclaim with Rachel, “Give me a child, or I die.”
57. If a young wife be likely to have a family, let her continue to live
heartily and well; but if she have been married a year or two without
any prospect of an increase, let her commence to live abstemiously
on fresh milk, buttermilk, bread, potatoes, and farinaceous diet, with
very little meat, and no stimulants whatever; let her live, indeed,
very much either as a poor curate’s wife, or as a poor Irish woman is
compelled to live.
58. It is not the poor woman that is cursed with barrenness—she
has often more mouths than she can well fill; but the one that
frequently labors under that ban is the pampered, the luxurious, the
indolent, the fashionable wife; and most assuredly, until she change
her system of living to one more consonant with common sense, she
will continue to do so. It is grievous to contemplate that oftentimes a
lady, with every other temporal good, is deficient of two earthly
blessings—health and children; and still more lamentable, when we
know that they frequently arise from her own seeking, that they are
withheld from her in consequence of her being a votary of fashion.
Many of the ladies of the present day, too, if they do bear children,
are, from delicacy of constitution, quite unable to suckle them.
Should such things be? But why, it might be asked, speak so strongly
and make so much fuss about it? Because the disease is become
desperate, and delays are dangerous—because children among the
higher ranks are become few and far between; and who so proper as
a medical man to raise his voice to proclaim the facts, the causes, and
the treatment? I respectfully inquire of my fair reader, Is fashion a
wife’s mission? If it be not, what is her mission? I myself have an
idea—a very ancient and an almost obsolete one—that the mission of
a wife is a glorious mission, far removed from fashion and from folly.
A fashionable wife, after a fashionable season, is frequently hysterical
and excitable, and therefore exhausted; she is more dead than alive,
and is obliged to fly to the country and dose herself with quinine to
recruit her wasted energies. Is such a wife as this likely to become a
joyful mother of children? I trow not. Her time is taken up between
pleasure and excitement to make herself ill, and nursing to make
herself well, in order that she may, at the earliest possible moment,
again return to her fashionable pursuits, which have with her
become, like drinking in excess, a necessity. Indeed, a fashionable
life is a species of intoxication. Moreover, wine-drinking in excess
and a fashionable life are usually joined together. Sad infatuation,
destructive alike to human life and human happiness—a road that
often leads to misery, disappointment, and death! These are strong
expressions, but they are not stronger than the subject imperatively
demands—a subject which is becoming of vital importance to the
well-being of society, and, in the higher ranks, even to its very
existence, and which must, ere long, engross the attention of all who
love their country. Fashion is a sapper and miner, and is ever hard at
work sapping and undermining the constitutions of its votaries.
Something must be done, and that quickly, to defeat its
machinations, otherwise evils will, past remedy, be consummated.
59. I consider thorough ablution of the body every morning one of
the most important means of health to a young wife; “while the poor,
in the matter of washing, are apt to think that they can put off till
Saturday what ought to be performed every day, and that they can
wind up the week by a good wash with impunity.”[13] There is nothing
more tonic and invigorating and refreshing than cold ablution.
Moreover, it makes one feel clean and sweet and wholesome; and
you may depend upon it, that it not only improves our physical
constitution, but likewise our moral character, and makes our minds
more pure and holy. A dirty man has generally a dirty mind!
60. The ewers and basins in our own country are, for the purposes
of thorough ablution, ridiculously small, while on the Continent they
are still smaller. They are of pigmy dimensions—the basins being of
the size of an ordinary slop-basin, and the ewer holding enough
water to wash a finger. How can persons with such appliances be
either decently clean, or sweet, or thoroughly healthy? It is utterly
impossible. Many people on the Continent have a dread of water—
they labor under a species of hydrophobia: hence one reason why the
ewers and basins are of such dwarfish proportions.
61. A young wife ought to strip to the waist, and then proceed to
wash her face after the manner so well described by Erasmus Wilson
in his work on Healthy Skin. He says: “Fill your basin about two-
thirds full with fresh water; dip your face in the water, and then your
hands. Soap the hands well, and pass the soaped hands with gentle
friction over the whole face. Having performed this part of the
operation thoroughly, dip the face in the water a second time, and
rinse it completely; you may add very much to the luxury of the latter
part of the process by having a second basin ready with fresh water
to perform a final rinsing.... In washing the face you have three
objects to fulfill: to remove the dirt, to give freshness, and to give
tone and vigor to the skin.” Now for the remaining process of
ablution. Having well rubbed her neck with her soaped hands, she
ought thoroughly to bathe her neck, her chest, and arms, by means of
a large sponge dipped in cold water—the colder the better. She
cannot cleanse her own shoulders, back, and loins with a sponge—
she cannot get to them. To obviate this difficulty, she ought to soak a
piece of flannel, a yard and a half long and half a yard wide, folded
lengthways, in cold water, and throwing it over her shoulders, as she
would a skipping-rope, she should for a few times work it from right
to left and from left to right, “and up and down, and then athwart,”
her loins and back and shoulders. This plan will effectually cleanse
parts that she could not otherwise reach, and will be most refreshing
and delightful. She should then put both her hands, her forearms,
and her arms into the basin of water as far as they will reach, and
keep them in for a few seconds, or while she can count fifty. The wet
parts should be expeditiously dried. Then, having thrown off her
remaining clothes, and merely having her slippers on, she ought to
sit for a few seconds, or while in the winter she can count fifty, or
while in the summer she can count a hundred, either in a sitz-bath,
[14]
or in a very large wash-hand basin—called a nursery-basin[15]
(sold for the purpose of giving an infant his morning bath)—
containing water to the depth of three or four inches. While sitting
either in the bath or in the basin, she ought in the winter time to
have either a small blanket or a woolen shawl thrown over her
shoulders. If she has any difficulty in getting in and out of the basin,
she should place a chair on each side of the basin; she can then, by
pressing upon the chairs with her elbows, arms, and hands, readily
do so.
62. If a lady be too delicate to take a sitz-bath, or if a sitz-bath
should not agree with her, then she ought every morning to use the
bidet, and, while sitting over it, she should well sponge the parts with
the water, allowing the water for a few seconds to stream over them.
Every lady should bear in mind that either the sitz-bath or the bidet,
every morning of her life (except under certain circumstances), is
absolutely essential to her comfort and her well-being.
63. At first, until she become accustomed to the cold (which she
will do in a few days), she ought to use the water tepid, but the
sooner she can use cold water, and that plentifully, the better—as it
will greatly contribute to her health and strength. But, as I said
before, the process ought to be quickly performed, as it is the shock
in bracing and in strengthening the system that does so much good.
64. When a lady is very delicate, it may, during the winter, be
necessary to put a dash of warm water into the bath, in order to take
off the extreme chill; but, as she becomes stronger, she will be able to
dispense with the warm water, as the colder the water is, provided
she can bear it, the more good it will do her.
65. If her loins or her back are at all weak, the addition either of a
large handful of table salt, or of a small handful of bay salt, or of a
lump of rock-salt,[16] dissolved in the water in the sitz-bath, will be of
great service to her.
66. The feet and the legs ought every morning to be bathed—not by
standing in the water, but, on the completion of the washing of the
other parts of the body, by putting one foot at a time for a few
seconds (not minutes) in the basin containing the water (the basin
for that purpose being placed on the floor), and well and quickly
washing the foot, either with a flannel or with a sponge, and well
cleansing with the finger and thumb between each toe, and allowing
the water from the sponge or flannel to stream into the basin from
the knee downwards. All this, of course, must be done expeditiously;
and care ought to be taken, after such ablution, to well dry with a
towel between each toe. The washing of the feet as above directed
will be a great refreshment, and will be most beneficial to health, and
will be a means of warding off colds, of preventing chilblains, and of
preserving the feet in a sweet and healthy state. The feet ought to be
kept as clean, if not cleaner, than the hands. Parts that are not seen
should be kept cleaner than parts that are seen. Filth is apt to gather
in covered up places.
67. The moment she has finished her bath she ought quickly to dry
herself. I should recommend her to use as a towel the Turkish
rubber: it will cause a delightful glow of the whole body.
68. The whole of the body, except the hair of the head, is, by the
above method, every morning thoroughly washed. The hair of the
head ought occasionally, even with soap and water, to be cleansed, to
keep it clean and sweet and wholesome; for nothing is more dirty if it
be not well attended to than human hair, and nothing is more
repulsive than a dirty head.
 69. Brushing of the hair, although beneficial both to the hair and
health, will not alone thoroughly cleanse the hair and scalp.
70. Some ladies attempt to clean their hair by simply washing it
either with rosemary or with rosewater, or with other washes; but
there is no more effectual way of doing it than occasionally by a
flannel and soap and water.
71. Bathing in the sea during the season, provided no grease has
been previously used, is very good for the hair; it both strengthens
the roots and beautifies the color.
72. I should advise my fair reader not to plaster her hair either
with grease or with pomade, or with other unknown compounds:
many of them are apt to make the head dirty, scurfy, and sore.
73. It might be said that it is utterly impossible for a lady to keep
her hair tidy, unless she uses some application to it. If such be the
case, either a little best olive oil or scented castor oil, or cocoanut oil,
may, by means of an old tooth-brush, be applied to smooth the hair.
74. If the hair should fall off, either a little cocoanut oil or a little
scented castor oil, well rubbed every night and morning into the
roots, is an excellent dressing. These are simple remedies, and can
never do any harm, which is more than can be said of many quack
nostrums, which latter often injure the hair irreparably.
75. The best carpet, either for a bath-room or for a dressing-room,
is kamptulicon, as the water spilt upon it after the use of a bath or
ablution can, by means of a flannel, be readily absorbed; the window
ought then to be thrown wide open, and the room will quickly be
dried.
76. It would be well for her, when practicable, to have, after she
has finished dressing, a quarter of an hour’s walk, either in the
garden or in the grounds, in order to insure a reaction, and thus to
induce a healthy glow of the circulation, and to give her an appetite
for her breakfast. A quarter of an hour’s walk before breakfast is
more beneficial to health than an hour’s walk after breakfast.
77. If a lady have not been accustomed to a thorough ablution, as
just directed, of her whole body, let her, if possible, before
commencing, take a trip to the coast, and have a few dips in the sea;
after which she might at once go through the processes above
advised with safety, comfort, and advantage; but whether she be able
to bathe in the sea or not, she must, if she is to be strong and healthy,
gradually accustom herself to a daily ablution of the whole of her
body. The skin is a breathing apparatus, and unless it be kept clean it
cannot properly perform its functions. It might be said, it will take
time and trouble daily to cleanse the whole of the skin: it will; but no
more than ten minutes, or a quarter of an hour, to go through the
whole of the above processes of bathing and of drying the skin. The
acquisition of health takes both time and trouble; but nothing worth
having in this world is done without it! There is no royal road to
health; but although the path at first might be a little rugged and
disagreeable, it soon becomes from practice smooth and pleasant!
78. Oh, if my fair reader did but know the value of thorough cold
water ablutions, she would not lose a day before giving the plan I
have above recommended a trial. It would banish all, or nearly all,
her little ailments and nervousness; it would make her dispense with
many of her wrappings; it would, in the winter time, keep her from
coddling and crudling over the fire; it would cause her to resist cold
and disease; it would, if she were inclined to constipation, tend to
regulate her bowels; it would strengthen her back and loins; it would
make her blooming, healthy, and strong; and it would pave the way,
and fit her, in due time, to become a mother, and the mother of fine,
hearty children! My reader must not fancy that I have overdrawn the
picture; I have painted it from the life. “I only tell what I do know,
and declare what I do believe.” Let me urge but a trial, and then my
fair inquirer will have cause to be thankful that she had been induced
to carry out my views, and I shall rejoice that I have been the means
of her doing so. Hear what a physician and a poet, a man of sound
sense and of sterling intellect, says of the value of ablution. He
speaks of warm ablution, which certainly is, at the beginning of
using thorough ablution, the best; but the sooner cold can be
substituted for warm the better it will be for the health and strength
and spirits of the bather:
“The warm ablution, just enough to clear
The sluices of the skin, enough to keep
The body sacred from indecent soil.
Still to be pure, even did it not conduce
(As much as it does) to health, were greatly worth
Your daily pains; it is this adorns the rich;
The want of it is poverty’s worst foe.
 With this external virtue age maintains
A decent grace! without it, youth and charms
Are loathsome.”[17]

79. With regard to diet.—Although I have a great objection (which

I either have or will particularize) of a young wife taking rich food
and many stimulants, yet I am a great advocate for an abundance of
good wholesome nourishment.
80. The meager breakfasts of many young wives (eating scarcely
anything) is one cause of so much sickness among them, and of so
many puny children in the world.
81. Let every young wife, and, indeed, every one else, make a
substantial breakfast. It is the foundation meal of the day; it is the
first meal after a long—the longest fast. The meager, miserable
breakfasts many young wives make is perfectly absurd; no wonder
that they are weak, “nervous,” and delicate. A breakfast ought, as a
rule, to consist either of eggs or of cold chicken, or of cold game, or of
bacon, or of ham, or of cold meat, or of mutton-chops, or of fish, and
of plenty of good bread, and not of either hot buttered toast, or of
hot rolls swimming in butter; both of which latter articles are like
giving the stomach sponge to digest, and making the partaker of such
food for the rest of the day feel weak, spiritless, and miserable. If she
select coffee for breakfast, let the half consist of good fresh milk; if
she prefer cocoa, let it be made of new milk instead of water; if she
choose tea, let it be black tea, with plenty of cream in it. Milk and
cream are splendid articles of diet. Let her then make a hearty
breakfast, and let there be no mistake about it. There is no meal in
the day so wretchedly managed, so poor and miserable, and so
devoid of nourishment, as an English breakfast. Let every young
wife, therefore, look well to the breakfast, that it be good and varied
and substantial, or ill health will almost certainly ensue.[18]
82. A meager unsubstantial breakfast causes a sinking sensation of
the stomach and bowels, and for the remainder of the day a
miserable depression of spirits. Robert Browning truly and quaintly
remarks that
“A sinking at the lower abdomen
Begins the day with indifferent omen.”
 83. It frequently happens that a young wife has no appetite for her
breakfast. She may depend upon it, in such a case, there is something
wrong about her, and that the sooner it is rectified the better it will
be for her health, for her happiness, and for her future prospects. Let
her, then, without loss of time seek medical advice, that means may
be used to bring back her appetite. The stomach in all probability is
at fault; if it be, the want of appetite, the consequent sensation of
sinking of the stomach, and the depression of the spirits are all
explained; but which, with judicious treatment, may soon be set to
rights.
84. If the loss of appetite for breakfast arise from pregnancy—and
sometimes it is one of the earliest symptoms—time will rectify it, and
the appetite, without the necessity of a particle of medicine, will
shortly, with its former zest, return.
85. A young married woman’s diet ought to be substantial, plain,
and nourishing. She must frequently vary the kind of food, of meat
especially, as also the manner of cooking it. Nature delights in variety
of food, of air, and of exercise. If she were fed, for some considerable
period, on one kind of meat, she could scarcely digest any other; and
in time either a disordered or a diseased stomach would be likely to
ensue. I have sometimes heard, with pain and annoyance, a patient
advised to live on mutton-chops, and to have no other meat than
mutton! Now this is folly in the extreme. Such an unfortunate
patient’s stomach, in the course of time, would not be able to digest
any other meat, and after awhile would have a difficulty in digesting
even mutton-chops, and wretched and ruined health would to a
certainty ensue.
86. Three substantial and nourishing meals a day will be sufficient.
It is a mistaken notion to imagine that “little and often” is best. The
stomach requires rest as much as, or more than, any other part of the
body; and how, if food be constantly put into it, can it have rest?
There is no part of the body more imposed and put upon than the
human stomach:
“To spur beyond
Its wiser will the jaded appetite,—
Is this for pleasure? Learn a juster taste,
And know that temperance is true luxury.”
 87. It is a mistaken notion, and injurious to health, for a young
wife, or for any one else, to eat, just before retiring to rest, a hearty
meat supper:
“Oppress, not nature sinking down to rest
With feasts too late, too solid, or too full.”

88. How often we hear a delicate lady declare that she can only eat
one meal a day, and that is a hearty meat supper the last thing at
night; and who, moreover, affirms that she can neither sleep at night,
nor can she have the slightest appetite for any other meal but her
supper, and that she should really starve if she could not have food
when she could eat it! The fact is, the oppressed stomach oppresses
the brain, and drives away sleep, and appetite, and health. The habit
is utterly wrong, and oftentimes demands professional means to
correct it.
89. How is it that sometimes a lady who has an excellent appetite
is, notwithstanding, almost as thin as a rake? It is not what she eats,
but what she digests, that makes her fat. Some people would fatten
on bread and water, while others would, on the fat of the land, be as
thin as Pharaoh’s lean kine. Our happiness and our longevity much
depend on the weakness or on the soundness of our stomachs: it is
the stomach, as a rule, that both gauges our happiness and that
determines the span of the life of both men and women. How
necessary it is, then, that due regard should be paid to such an
important organ, and that everything should be done to conduce to
the stomach’s welfare,—not by overloading the stomach with rich
food; not by a scanty and meager diet; but by adopting a middle
course, betwixt and between high living and low living—the juste
milieu. We should all of us remember that glorious saying—those
immortal words of St. Paul—“Be temperate in all things.”
90. Where a lady is very thin, good fresh milk (if it agree) should
form an important item of her diet. Milk is both fattening and
nourishing, more so than any other article of food known; but it
should never be taken at the same meal (except it be in the form of
pudding) with either beer or wine: they are incompatibles, and may
cause disarrangement of the stomach and bowels. Milk would often
agree with an adult, where it now disagrees, if the admixture of milk
with either beer or wine were never allowed.
 91. Let me advise my fair reader to take plenty of time over her
meals, and to chew her food well; as nothing is more conducive to
digestion than thoroughly masticated food. No interruptions should
be allowed to interfere with the meals; the mind, at such times,
should be kept calm, cheerful, and unruffled, for “unquiet meals
make ill digestions.”
92. Many persons bolt their food! When they do, they are drawing
bills on their constitutions which must inevitably be paid! The teeth
act as a mill to grind and prepare the food for the stomach; if they do
not do their proper work, the stomach has double labor to perform,
and being unable to do it efficiently, the stomach and the whole body
in consequence suffer.
93. The teeth being so essential to health, the greatest care should
be taken of them: they should be esteemed among one’s most
precious possessions.[19]
94. With regard to beverage, there is, as a rule, nothing better for
dinner than either toast and water, or, if it be preferred, plain spring
water—
“Naught like the simple element dilutes;”[20]

and after dinner, one or two glasses of sherry. A lady sometimes,

until she has had a glass of wine, cannot eat her dinner; when such
be the case, by all means let a glass of wine be taken,—that is to say,
let her have it either just before or during dinner, instead of after
dinner; or let her have one glass of sherry before or during dinner,
and one glass after dinner.
95. A young wife sometimes has a languid circulation, a weak
digestion, and constipated bowels; then, a glass of sherry during
dinner and another glass after dinner is beneficial; and however
much she might dislike wine, she should be induced to take it, as the
wine will improve her circulation, will strengthen her digestion, and
will tend to open her bowels. But let me urge her never, unless
ordered by a medical man, to exceed the two glasses of wine daily.
96. If wine does not agree, and if she require a stimulant, a
tumblerful either of home-brewed ale or of Burton bitter ale ought,
instead of water, to be taken at dinner. But remember, if she drink
either beer or porter, she must take a great deal of out-door exercise;
otherwise it will probably make her bilious. If she be inclined to be
bilious, wine is superior to either beer or porter.
91. Brandy ought never to be taken by a young wife but as a
medicine, and then but rarely, and only in cases of extreme
exhaustion. It would be a melancholy and gloomy prospect for her to
drink brandy daily; she would, in all probability, in a short time
become a confirmed drunkard. There is nothing, when once
regularly taken, more fascinating and more desperately dangerous
than brandy-drinking. It has caused the destruction of tens of
thousands both of men and of women!
98. A wife ought not, if she feel low, to fly on every occasion to
wine to raise her spirits, but should try the effects of a walk in the
country, and
“Draw physic from the fields in draughts of vital air.”[21]

99. An excitable wife is a weakly wife: “excitement is the effect of

weakness, not of strength.” Wine in large quantities will not
strengthen, but, on the contrary, will decidedly weaken; the more the
wine, the greater the debility and the greater the excitement—one
follows the other as the night the day. A person who drinks much
wine is always in a state of excitement, and is invariably weak, low,
and nervous, and frequently barren. Alcoholic stimulants in excess
are “a delusion and a snare,” and are one of the most frequent causes
of excitement, and therefore both of weakness and of barrenness.
Alcohol, pure and undiluted, and in excess, is a poison, and is ranked
among the deadly poisons; if a person were to drink at one draught
half a pint of undiluted alcohol it would be the last draught he or she
would ever, in this world, drink,—it would be as surely fatal as a large
dose of either arsenic or strychnine! Brandy, whisky, gin, and wine
are composed of alcohol as the principal ingredient; indeed, each and
all of them entirely owe their strength to the quantity of alcohol
contained therein. Brandy, whisky, gin, and wine, without the
alcohol, would, each one of them, be as chip in porridge—perfectly
inert. Brandy and wine, the former especially, contain large
proportions of alcohol, and both the one and the other, in excess,
either prevents a woman from conceiving, and thus makes her
barren, or if she do conceive, it poisons the unborn babe within her;
and it either makes him puny and delicate, or it downright kills him
in the womb, and thus causes a miscarriage. If he survive the poison,
and he be born alive, he is usually, when born, delicate and
undersized; if such a one be suckled by such a mother, he is
subjected, if the mother can nurse him, which in such cases she
rarely can, to a second course of poisoning; the mother’s milk is
poisoned with the alcohol, and the poor unfortunate little wretch,
having to run the gantlet in the womb and out of the womb, pines
and dwindles away, until at length he finds a resting-place in the
grave! If you wish to make a dog small, give him, when he is a puppy,
gin; the alcohol of the gin will readily do it: this is a well-known fact,
and is, by dog-fanciers, constantly practiced. If you desire, in like
manner, to make a Tom Thumb of a baby, give him the milk of a
mother or of a wet-nurse who imbibes, in the form of wine or of
brandy or of gin, alcohol in quantities, and the deed is done! Gin-
drinking nursing mothers, it is well known, have usually puny
children; indeed, the mother drinking the gin is only another way of
giving gin to the babe—an indirect instead of a direct route, both
leading to the same terminus. Brandy was formerly sold only by the
apothecary; brandy is a medicine—a powerful medicine—and ought
only to be prescribed as a medicine; that is to say, but seldom, in
small and in measured quantities at a time, and only when absolutely
necessary: now it is resorted to on every occasion as a panacea for
every ill! If taken regularly, and in quantities, as unfortunately it
frequently now is, it becomes a desperate poison—a pathway leading
to the grave! It is utterly impossible for any person to hold in the
mouth, for five minutes at a time, a mouthful of neat brandy without
experiencing intense suffering: if it has this fearful effect on the
mouth, what effect must this burning fluid, when taken in quantities,
have upon the stomach? Injury, most decided injury to the stomach,
and, through the stomach, disease and weakness to the remainder of
the body! Brandy is a wonderful and powerful agent: brandy has the
effect, if taken in excess and for a length of time, of making the liver
as hard as a board. Brandy in large quantities, and in the course of
time, has the power of making the body marvelously big—as big
again; but not with firm muscle and strong sinew, not with good
blood and wholesome juices—nothing of the kind; but of filling it full,
even to bursting, with water! Brandy has the power of taking away a
giant’s strength, and of making him as helpless as a little child!
Habitual brandy-drinking poisons the very streams of life! It would
take more time and space than I have to spare to tell of the wonderful
powers of brandy; but unfortunately, as a rule, its powers are more
those of an angel of darkness than those of an angel of light! If the
above statements be true (and they cannot be contravened), they
show the folly, the utter imbecility, and the danger, both to mother
and to babe, of dosing a wife, be she strong or be she delicate, and
more especially if she be delicate, with large quantities either of wine
or of brandy. Brandy, gin, and whisky act on the human economy
very much alike; for, after all, it is the quantity of alcohol contained
in each of them that gives them their real strength and danger. I have
selected brandy as the type of all of them, as brandy is now the
fashionable remedy for all complaints, and, unfortunately, in too
many instances the habit of drinking it imperceptibly but rapidly
increases, until at length, in many cases, that which was formerly a
teaspoonful becomes a tablespoonful, and eventually a wineglassful,
with what result I have earnestly endeavored faithfully to portray.
Avoid, then, the first step in regular brandy-drinking: it is the first
step that ofttimes leads to danger, and eventually to destruction!
100. I am quite convinced that one cause of barrenness among
ladies of the present day is excessive wine-drinking. This is an age of
stimulants, and the practice is daily increasing. A delicate lady is
recommended to take three or four glasses of wine daily. It seems for
the moment to do her good, and whenever she feels low she flies to it
again. The consequence is, that she almost lives upon wine, and takes
but little else besides! Who are the fruitful women? Poor women who
cannot afford to drink stimulants; for instance, poor Irish women
and poor curates’ wives, who have only, principally, water and milk
and buttermilk to drink.
101. There is decidedly, among the higher ranks, more barrenness
than formerly, and one cause of it, in my opinion, is the much larger
quantity of wine now consumed than in the olden times. Many ladies
now drink as many glasses of wine in one day as their grandmothers
drank in a week; moreover, the wineglasses of the present day are
twice the size of old-fashioned wineglasses; so that half a dozen
glasses of wine will almost empty a bottle; and many ladies now
actually drink, in the day, half a dozen glasses of wine!
102. In the wine-growing and wine-drinking country of France,
barrenness prevails to a fearful extent; it has become there a serious
consideration and a State question. Wine is largely consumed in
France by ladies as well as by gentlemen. The usual and everyday
quantity of wine allowed at dinner at the restaurants of Paris, for
each lady, is half a wine quart bottle-full—a similar quantity to that
allowed for each gentleman. Where a gentleman and a lady are
dining together, and have a bottle of wine between them, it is
probable that the former might consume more than his own share of
the wine; but whether he does or not, the quantity the lady herself
drinks is sadly too much either for her health or for her fruitfulness. I
am, moreover, quite convinced that the quantity of wine—sour wine
—consumed by French wives is not only very antagonistic to their
fertility, but likewise to their complexions.
103. Wine was formerly a luxury, it is now made a necessary of life.
Fruitful women, in olden times, were more common than they are
now. Riches, and consequently wine, did not then so much abound,
but children did much more abound. The richer the person, the
fewer the children.
104. Wine is now oftentimes sucked in with a mother’s milk! Do
not let me be misunderstood; wine and brandy, in certain cases of
extreme exhaustion, are, even for very young children, most valuable
remedies; but I will maintain that both wine and brandy require the
greatest judgment and skill in administering, and do irreparable
mischief unless they are most carefully and judiciously prescribed.
Wine ought to be very rarely given to the young; indeed, it should be
administered to them with as much care and as seldom as any other
dangerous or potent medicine.
105. Statistics prove that wine-bibbing in England is greatly on the
increase, and so is barrenness. You might say there is no connection
between the two. I maintain that there is a connection, and that, the
alcohol contained in the wine (if wine be taken to excess, which
unfortunately it now frequently is) is most antagonistic to
fruitfulness.
106. It is surprising, nowadays, the quantity of wine some few
young single ladies, at parties, can imbibe without being intoxicated;
but whether, if such ladies marry, they will make fruitful vines is
quite another matter; but of this I am quite sure, that such girls will,
as a rule, make delicate, hysterical, and unhealthy wives. The young
are peculiarly sensitive to the evil effects of overstimulation.
Excessive wine-drinking with them is a canker eating into their very
lives. Time it is that these facts were proclaimed through the length
and breadth of our land, before mischief be done past remedy.
107. Champagne is a fashionable and favorite beverage at parties,
especially at dances. It is a marvel to note how girls will, in
quantities, imbibe the dangerous liquid. How cheerful they are after
it; how bright their colors; how sparkling their eyes; how voluble
their tongues; how brilliant their ideas! But, alas! the effects are very
evanescent—dark clouds soon o’ershadow the horizon, and all is
changed! How pale, after it, they become; how sallow their
complexions; how dim their eyes; how silent their tongues; how
depressed their spirits—depression following in an inverse ratio to
overstimulation; and if depression, as a matter of course, weakness
and disease! Champagne is one of the most fascinating but most
desperately dangerous and deceptive drinks a young girl can imbibe,
and should be shunned as the plague! Young men who witness their
proceedings admire them vastly as partners for the evening, but
neither covet nor secure them as partners for life. Can they be
blamed? Certainly not! They well know that girls who, at a dance,
imbibe freely of the champagne-cup, and who at a dinner party
drink, as some few are in the habit of drinking, four or five, or even
six, glasses of wine,—that such wives as these, if ever they do become
mothers (which is very doubtful), will be mothers of a degenerate
race. It is folly blinking the question; it is absolutely necessary that it
be looked boldly in the face, and that the evil be remedied before it
be too late.
108. There is an immense deal of drinking in England, which, I am
quite convinced, is one reason of so few children in families, and of
so many women being altogether barren. It is high time that these
subjects were looked into, and that the torrent be stemmed, ere it
o’erflow its banks, and carry with it a still greater amount of
barrenness, of misery, and of destruction.
109. It might be said that the light wines contain but little alcohol,
and therefore can cause, even if taken to excess, but slight injurious
effects on the constitution. I reply, that even light wines, taken in
quantities, conduce to barrenness, and that, as a rule, if a lady once
unfortunately takes to drinking too much wine, she is not satisfied
with the light wines, but at length flies to stronger wines—to wines
usually fortified with brandy, such as either to sherry or to port wine,
or even, at last, to brandy itself! I know that I am treading on tender
ground, but my duty as a medical man, and as a faithful chronicler of
these matters, obliges me to speak out plainly, without fear or
without favor, and to point out the deplorable consequences of such
practices. I am quite aware that many ladies have great temptations
and great inducements to resort to wine to cheer them in their hours
of depression and of loneliness; but unless the danger be clearly
pointed out and defined, it is utterly impossible to suggest a remedy,
and to snatch such patients from certain destruction.
110. I am quite convinced of one thing, namely, that the drinking
of much wine—be it light as claret, or be it heavy as port—sadly
injures the complexion, and makes it muddy, speckled, broken-out,
and toad-like.
111. It is high time that medical men should speak out on the
subject, and that with no “uncertain sound,” before mischief be done
past remedy, and before our island become as barren of children as
France unfortunately now is.
112. If a lady be laboring under debility, she is generally dosed with
quantities of wine—the greater the debility the more wine she is
made to take, until at length the poor unfortunate creature almost
lives upon wine. Her appetite for food is by such means utterly
destroyed, and she is for a time kept alive by stimulants; her stomach
will at length take nothing else, and she becomes a confirmed invalid,
soon dropping into an untimely grave! This is a most grievous, and,
unfortunately, in this country, not an uncommon occurrence. Much
wine will never make a delicate lady strong—it will increase her
weakness, not her strength. Wine in excess does not strengthen, but,
on the contrary, produces extreme debility. Let this be borne in
mind, and much misery might then be averted.
113. Remember I am not objecting to a lady taking wine in
moderation—certainly not; a couple of glasses, for instance, in the
day, of either sherry or claret, might do her great good; but I do
strongly object to her drinking, as many ladies do, five or six glasses
of wine during that time. I will maintain that such a quantity is most
detrimental both to her health and to her fecundity.
114. The effect of the use of wine is beneficial; but the effect of the
abuse of it is deplorable in the extreme. Wine is an edge-tool, and
will, if not carefully handled, assuredly wound most unmercifully. I
have not the slightest doubt that the quantity of wine consumed by
many ladies is one cause, in this our day, of so much delicacy of
constitution. It is a crying evil, and demands speedy redress; and as
no more worthy medical champion has appeared in the field to fight
the battle of moderate wine-drinking, I myself have boldly come
forward to commence the affray, fervently trusting that some earnest
men may join me in the conflict. I consider that the advocates for a
plentiful supply of alcoholic stimulants are wrong, and that the
upholders of total abstinence principles are equally wrong; and that
the only path of health and of safety lies between them both—in
moderation. A teetotaller and an advocate for a plentiful supply of
alcoholic drinks are both very difficult to please; indeed, the one and
the other are most intemperate. I am aware that what I have written
will be caviled at, and will give great offense to both extreme parties;
but I am quite prepared and willing to abide the consequences, and
sincerely hope that what I have said will be the means of ventilating
the subject, which is sadly needed. It is the violence and obstinacy of
the contending parties, each of whom is partly right and partly
wrong, that have long ago prevented a settlement of the question at
issue, and have consequently been the means of causing much heart-
burning, misery, and suffering. The Times once pithily remarked that
it would be well if the two combatants were “to mix their liquors.”
115. A young wife ought to rise betimes in the morning, and after
she be once awake should never doze. Dozing is both weakening to
the body and enervating to the mind. It is a species of dram-
drinking; let my fair reader, therefore, shun it with all her might. Let
her imitate the example of the Duke of Wellington, who, whenever he
turned in bed, made a point of turning out of it; indeed, so
determined was that illustrious man not to allow himself to doze
after he was once awake, that he had his bed made so small that he
could not conveniently turn in it without first of all turning out of it.
Let her, as soon as she is married, commence early rising; let her
establish the habit, and it will for life cling to her:
“Awake! the morning shines, and the fresh field
Calls us; we lose the prime, to mark how spring
Our tender plants; how blows the citron grove,
What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed;
 How Nature paints her colors; how the bee
Sits on the bloom.”[22]

116. It is wonderful how much may be done betimes in the

morning. There is nothing like a good start. It makes for the
remainder of the day the occupation easy and pleasant—
“Happy, thrice happy, every one
Who sees his labor well begun,
And not perplexed and multiplied
By idly waiting for time and tide.”[23]

117. How glorious, and balmy, and health-giving, is the first breath
of the morning, more especially to those living in the country! It is
more exhilarating, invigorating, and refreshing than it is all the rest
of the day. If you wish to be strong, if you desire to retain your good
looks and your youthful appearance, if you are desirous of having a
family, rise betimes in the morning; if you are anxious to lay the
foundation of a long life, jump out of bed the moment you are awake.
Let there be no dallying, no parleying with the enemy, or the battle is
lost, and you will never after become an early riser; you will then lose
one of the greatest charms and blessings of life, and will, probably,
not have the felicity of ever becoming a mother; if you do become
one, it will most likely be of puny children. The early risers make the
healthy, bright, long-lived wives and mothers. But if a wife is to be an
early riser, she must have a little courage and determination; great
advantages in this world are never gained without; but what is either
man or woman good for if they have not those qualities?
118. An early riser ought always to have something to eat and
drink, such as a little bread and butter, and either a cup of tea or a
draught of new milk, before she goes out of a morning; this need not
interfere with, at the usual hour, her regular breakfast. If she were to
take a long walk on an empty stomach, she would for the remainder
of the day feel tired and exhausted, and she would then, but most
unfairly, fancy that early rising did not agree with her.
119. The early morning is one of the best and most enjoyable
portions of the day. There is a perfect charm in nature which early
risers alone can appreciate. It is only the early riser that ever sees
“the rosy morn,” the blushing of the sky, which is gloriously
beautiful! Nature, in the early morning, seems to rejoice and be glad,
Random documents with unrelated
content Scribd suggests to you:
It was probably in the reign of Henry II. that shields were first used in
this way; until then, warriors wore their badges embroidered upon
their mantles or robes.

In studying the heraldic shield, its shape must be considered first,

because that marks the period in history to which it belongs.2

2: Parker states that twenty-one differently shaped shields occur in

heraldry, but Guillim only mentions fourteen varieties.

Thus a bowed shield (Fig. 1) denotes those early times when a

warrior's shield fitted closely to his person, whilst a larger, longer form,
the kite-shaped shield, was in use in the time of Richard I. (Fig. 2).
This disappeared, however, in Henry III.'s reign, giving way to a much
shorter shield known as the "heater-shaped" (see Fig. 3).

Another form of shield had a curved notch in the right side, through
which the lance was passed when the shield was displayed on the
breast (Fig. 4).

The shield of a coat of arms usually presents a plain surface, but it is

sometimes enriched with a bordure—literally border. This surface is
termed the "field," "because, as I believe," says Guillim, "it bore those
ensigns which the owner's valour had gained for him on the field."

Fig. 1. Fig. 2. Fig. 3.

Fig. 4.
The several points of a shield have each their respective names, and
serve as landmarks for locating the exact position of the different
figures charged on the field. (In describing a shield, you must always
think of it as being worn by yourself, so that in looking at a shield,
right and left become reversed, and what appears to you as the right
side is really the left, and vice versa.)

In Fig. 5, A, B, C, mark the chief—i.e., the highest

and most honourable point of the shield—A
marking the dexter chief or upper right-hand side
of the shield, B the middle chief, and C the
sinister or left-hand side of the chief. E denotes
the fess point, or centre; G, H, and I, mark the
base of the shield—G and I denoting respectively
the dexter and sinister sides of the shield, and H
Fig. 5. the middle base. After the points of a field, come
the tinctures, which give the colour to a coat of
arms, and are divided into two classes. The first includes the two
metals, gold and silver, and the five colours proper—viz., blue, red,
black, green, purple. In heraldic language these tinctures are
described as "or," "argent" (always written arg:), "azure" (az:), "gules"
(gu:),3 "sable" (sa:), "vert," and "purpure." According to Guillim, each
tincture was supposed to teach its own lesson—e.g., "as gold excelleth
all other metals in value and purity, so ought its bearer to surpass all
others in prowess and virtue," and so on.

3: This term for red is thought to be derived either from the Hebrew
gulude, a bit of red cloth, or from the Arabic, gulu, a rose.

In the seventeenth century one Petrosancta introduced the system of

delineating the tinctures of the shield by certain dots and lines, in the
use of which we have a good example of how heraldry can dispense
with words. Thus pin-prick dots represent or (Fig. 6); a blank surface,
argent (Fig. 7); horizontal lines, azure (Fig. 8); perpendicular, gules
(Fig. 9); horizontal and perpendicular lines crossing each other, sable
(Fig. 10); diagonal lines running from the dexter chief to the sinister
base, vert (Fig. 11); diagonal lines running in an opposite direction,
purpure (Fig. 12).

Fig. 6.—Or. Fig. 7.—Arg. Fig. 8.—Az.

Fig. 9.—Gu.

Fig. 10.—Sa. Fig. 11.—

V. Fig. 12.—Purpure.

Two other colours, orange and blood-colour, were formerly in use, but
they are practically obsolete now.

Furs constitute the second class of tinctures. Eight kinds occur in

English heraldry, but we can only mention the two most important—
viz., ermine and vair. The former is represented by black spots on a
white ground (Fig. 13).4 As shields were anciently covered with the
skins of animals, it is quite natural that furs should appear in armorial
bearings. "Ermine," says Guillim, "is a little beast that hath his being in
the woods of Armenia, whereof he taketh his name."
 4: When the same spots are in white on a black field it is termed
ermines, whilst black spots on a gold field are blazoned or described as
erminois.

Many legends account for the heraldic use of ermine, notably that
relating how, when Conan Meriadic landed in Brittany, an ermine
sought shelter from his pursuers under Conan's shield. Thereupon the
Prince protected the small fugitive, and adopted an ermine as his
arms.

From early days the wearing of ermine was a

most honourable distinction, enjoyed only by
certain privileged persons, and disallowed to
them in cases of misdemeanour. Thus, when, in
the thirteenth century, Pope Innocent III.
absolved Henry of Falkenburg for his share in the
murder of the Bishop of Wurtzburg, he imposed
on him as a penance never to appear in ermine,
vair, or any other colour used in tournaments.
Fig. 13.—
Ermine.
And, according to Joinville, when St. Louis
returned to France from Egypt, "he renounced the
wearing of furs as a mark of humility, contenting
himself with linings for his garments made of doeskins or legs of
hares."

As to vair, Mackenzie tells us that it was the skin of a beast whose

back was blue-grey (it was actually meant for the boar, for which
verres was the Latin name), and that the figure used in heraldry to
indicate vair represents the shape of the skin when the head and feet
have been taken away (Fig. 14). "These skins," he says, "were used
by ancient governors to line their pompous robes, sewing one skin to
the other."

Vair was first used as a distinctive badge by the Lord de Courcies

when fighting in Hungary. Seeing that his soldiers were flying from the
field, he tore the lining from his mantle and raised it aloft as an
ensign. Thereupon, the soldiers rallied to the charge and overcame
the enemy.
Cinderella's glass slipper in the fairy-tale, which
came originally from France, should really have
been translated "fur," it being easy to understand
how the old French word vaire was supposed to
be a form of verre, and was rendered accordingly.

Much might still be said about "varied fields"—

i.e., those which have either more than one
colour or a metal and a colour alternatively, or,
again, which have patterns or devices Fig. 14.—
Vair.
represented upon them. We can, however, only
mention that when the field shows small squares
alternately of a metal and colour, it is described as checky, when it is
strewn with small objects—such as fleurs-de-lys or billets—it is
described as "powdered" or "sown." A diapered field is also to be met
with, but this, being merely an artistic detail, has no heraldic
significance. Therefore, whereas in blazoning armorial bearings one
must always state if the field is checky or powdered, the diaper is
never mentioned.

In concluding this chapter we must add that one of the first rules to
be learnt in heraldry is that in arranging the tinctures of a coat of
arms, metal can never be placed upon metal, nor colour upon colour.
The field must therefore be gold or silver if it is to receive a coloured
charge, or vice versa. This rule was probably made because, as we
said above, the knights originally bore their arms embroidered upon
their mantles, these garments being always either of cloth of gold or
of silver, embroidered with silk, or they were of silken material,
embroidered with gold or silver.
 CHAPTER III
DIVISIONS OF THE SHIELD

Although in many shields the field presents an unbroken surface, yet

we often find it cut up into divisions of several kinds. These divisions
come under the head of simple charges, and the old heralds explain
their origin—viz.: "After battles were ended, the shields of soldiers
were considered, and he was accounted most deserving whose shield
was most or deepest cut. And to recompense the dangers wherein
they were shown to have been by those cuts for the service of their
King and country, the heralds did represent them upon their shields.
The common cuts gave name to the common partitions, of which the
others are made by various conjunctions."
 PLATE 3.

MARQUIS OF HERTFORD.
Arms.—Quarterly 1st and 4th Or on a pile gu:
between 6 fleurs de lys az:
3 lions passant guardant in pale or.
2nd and 3rd gu: 2 wings conjoined in lure or.
Seymour.
Crest.—Out of a ducal coronet or, a phœnix ppr.

Supporters.—Two blackamoors.

Motto.—Fide et amore.

The heraldic term given to these partition-lines of the field is

ordinaries. There are nine of these, termed respectively, chief, fesse,
bar, pale, cross, bend, saltire, chevron, and pile.

The chief, occupying about the

upper third of the field, is
marked off by a horizontal line
(Fig. 15); the fesse, derived
from the Latin fascia, a band, is
a broad band crossing the
centre of the field horizontally,
and extends over a third of its
surface (Fig. 16). The bar is Fig.
very like the fesse, but differs 15. Fig. 16.
from it, (a) in being much
narrower and only occupying a fifth portion of the field, (b) in being
liable to be placed in any part of the field, whereas the fesse is an
immovable charge, (c) in being used mostly in pairs and not singly.
Two or three bars may be charged on the same field, and when an
even number either of metal or fur alternating with a colour occur
together, the field is then described as barry, the number of the bars
being always stated, so that if there are six bars, it is said to be "barry
of six," if eight, "barry of eight" (Fig. 17). The pale, probably derived
from palus, a stake, is also a broad band like the fesse, but runs
perpendicularly down the shield, instead of horizontally across it (Fig.
18).

Fig. 17. Fig.

18. Fig. 19.
The cross, which is the ordinary St. George's Cross, is pre-eminently
the heraldic cross, out of nearly four hundred varieties of the sacred
sign. It is really a simple combination of the fesse and pale. Bend is
again a broad band, but it runs diagonally across the field from the
dexter chief to the sinister base. It is supposed to occupy a third
portion of the field, but rarely does so (Fig. 19). The saltire is the
familiar St. Andrew's Cross, owing its name probably to the French
salcier (see Fig. 20). The chevron, resembling the letter V turned
topsy-turvy, is a combination of a bend dexter and a bend sinister, and
is rather more than the lower half of the saltire. The French word
chevron, still in use, means rafters (Fig. 21). The pile, derived from
the Latin for pillar, is a triangular wedge, and when charged singly on
a field may issue from any point of the latter, except from the base
(Fig. 22). If more than one pile occurs, we generally find the number
is three, although the Earl of Clare bears "two piles issuing from the
chief." Many old writers, notably amongst the French, attribute a
symbolical meaning to each of these ordinaries. Thus, some believe
the chief to represent the helmet of the warrior, the fesse his belt or
band, the bar "one of the great peeces of tymber which be used to
debarre the enemy from entering any city." The pale was thought by
some to represent the warrior's lance, by others the palings by which
cities and camps were guarded; the cross was borne by those who
fought for the faith; the bend was interpreted by some to refer to the
shoulder-scarf of the knight, whilst others describe it as "a scaling-
ladder set aslope." Another variety of the scaling-ladder was
represented by the saltire. The chevron, or rafters, were held to
symbolize protection, such as a roof affords, whilst the pile suggests a
strong support of some sort.
 Fig. 20. Fig.
21. Fig. 22.

There is a tenth ordinary, which is known as the "shakefork" (Fig. 23).

Practically unknown in English heraldry, it is frequently met with in
Scotch arms. It is shaped like the letter Y and pointed at its
extremities, but does not extend to the edge of the field. Guillim
attributes its origin to "an instrument in use in the royal stables,
whereby hay was thrown up to the horses" (surely this instrument
must have been next-of-kin to our homely pitchfork?), and he believes
the shakefork to have been granted to a certain Earl of Glencairne,
who at one time was Master of the King's Horse.

Many historical stories are connected with the

different charges we have just been describing,
but we have only space to mention two, referring
respectively to the fesse and the saltire.

The former reminds us of the origin of the arms

of Austria, which date from the Siege of Acre,
where our Cœur-de-Lion won such glory. It was
here that Leopold, Duke of Austria, went into
Fig. 23. battle, clad in a spotlessly white linen robe, bound
at the waist with his knight's belt. On returning
from the field, the Duke's tunic was "total gules"—blood-red—save
where the belt had protected the white of the garment. Thereupon,
his liege-lord, Duke Frederic of Swabia, father of the famous Frederic
Barbarossa, granted permission to Leopold to bear as his arms a silver
fesse upon a blood-red field.

The saltire, recalling the French form of scaling-ladder of the Middle

Ages, reminds us of how the brave Joan of Arc placed the salcier with
her own hands against the fort of Tournelles. And we remember how,
when her shoulder was presently pierced by an English arrow, she
herself drew it out from the ghastly wound, rebuking the women who
wept round her with the triumphant cry: "This is not blood, but glory!"

In addition to the ordinaries, there are fifteen

sub-ordinaries. These less important divisions of
the shield are known in heraldry as the canton,
inescutcheon, bordure, orle, tressure, flanches,
lozenge, mascle, rustre, fusil, billet, gyron, frette,
and roundle. Owing to limited space, we cannot
go into detail with regard to these charges, but
we may mention that the canton, from the French
word for a corner, is placed, with rare exceptions, Fig. 24.
in the dexter side of the field, being supposed to
occupy one-third of the chief. It is often added as an "augmentation of
honour" to a coat of arms. The badge of a baronet, the red hand, is
generally charged on a canton, sometimes also on an inescutcheon,
and it is then placed on the field, so as not to interfere with the family
arms (Fig. 24). The inescutcheon is a smaller shield placed upon the
field, and, when borne singly, it occupies the centre (Fig. 25). Three,
or even five, escutcheons may be borne together. The bordure (Fig.
26) is a band surrounding the field, which may be either void—that is,
bearing no kind of device—or it may have charges upon it, as in the
arms of England, where the bordure is charged with eight lions. The
orle and the tressure are only varieties of the bordure, just as the
mascle, rustre, and fusil, are variations of the diamond-shaped figure
known as the "lozenge" (Fig. 27). The latter is always set erect on the
field. The arms of an unmarried woman and a widow are always
displayed on a lozenge. The mascle—a link of chain armour—is a
lozenge square set diagonally, pierced in the centre with a diamond-
shaped opening, whilst the rustre is a lozenge pierced with a round
hole. The fusil is a longer and narrower form of diamond.

Fig. 25. Fig.

26. Fig. 27.

The billet is a small elongated rectangular figure,

representing a block of wood, and is seldom
used. The gyron (Fig. 28), which is a triangular
figure, does not occur in English heraldry as a
single charge, but what is termed a coat gyronny
is not unusual in armorial bearings, when the field
may be divided into ten, twelve, or even sixteen
pieces. All arms borne by the Campbell clan have
Fig. 28. a field gyronny. The origin of the word is
doubtful; some trace it to the Greek for curve,
others to a Spanish word for gore or gusset. The introduction of a
gyron into heraldry dates from the reign of Alfonso VI. of Spain, who,
being sore beset by the Moors, was rescued by his faithful knight, Don
Roderico de Cissnères. The latter, as a memento of the occasion, tore
three triangular pieces from Alfonso's mantle, being henceforward
allowed to represent the same on his shield in the shape of a gyron.
The frette, formerly known as a "trellis," from its resemblance to
lattice-work, is very frequent in British heraldry; it also occurs as a net
in connection with fish charges. In the Grand Tournament held at
Dunstable to celebrate Edward III.'s return from Scotland, one Sir
John de Harrington bore "a fretty arg., charged upon a sable field."
The roundlet is simply a ring of metal or colour, and is much used in
coats of arms at all periods of heraldry. The family of Wells bears a
roundlet to represent a fountain, whilst the Sykes charge their shield
with three roundlets, in allusion to their name, "sykes" being an old
term for a well.

In Fig. 29 we see an example of a shield charged

with an inescutcheon within a bordure.

Fig. 29.
 CHAPTER IV
THE BLAZONING OF ARMORIAL BEARINGS

In this chapter we shall deal with blazoning, in which "the skill of

heraldry" is said to lie.

The word "blazon" in its heraldic sense means the art of describing
armorial bearings in their proper terms and sequence.

"To blazon," says Guillim, "signifies properly the winding of a horn, but
to blazon a coat of arms is to describe or proclaim the things borne
upon it in their proper gestures and tinctures" (i.e., their colours and
attitudes) "which the herald was bound to do."1

1: Our word "blast," as well as our verb "to blow," are obviously
derived from the German blasen, the Anglo-Saxon blawen, to blow, and
the French blasonner.

The herald, as we know, performed many different offices. It was his

duty to carry messages between hostile armies, to marshal
processions, to challenge to combat, to arrange the ceremonial at
grand public functions, to settle questions of precedence, to identify
the slain on the battle-field—this duty demanded an extensive
knowledge of heraldry2—to announce his sovereign's commands, and,
finally, to proclaim the armorial bearings and feats of arms of each
knight as he entered the lists at a tournament.

2: Do you remember that in the "Canterbury Tales" the knight tells the
story of how, after the battle, "two young knights were found lying side
by side, each clad in his own arms," and how neither of them, though
 "not fully dead," was alive enough to say his own name, but by their
coote-armure and by their gere the heraudes knew them well?

Probably because this last duty was preceded by a flourish or blast of

trumpets, people learnt to associate the idea of blazoning with the
proclamation of armorial bearings, and thus the term crept into
heraldic language and signified the describing or depicting of all that
belonged to a coat of arms.

The few and comparatively simple rules with regard to blazoning

armorial bearings must be rigidly observed. They are the following:

1. In depicting a coat of arms we must always begin with the field.

2. Its tincture must be stated first, whether of metal or colour. This is

such an invariable rule that the first word in the description of arms is
always the tincture, the word "field" being so well understood that it is
never mentioned. Thus, when the field of a shield is azure, the blazon
begins "Az.," the charges being mentioned next, each one of these
being named before its colour. Thus, we should blazon Fig. 44 "Or,
raven proper." When the field is semé with small charges such as
fleur-de-lys, it must be blazoned accordingly "semé of fleur-de-lys," in
the case of cross-crosslets, the term "crusily" is used.

3. The ordinaries must be mentioned next, being blazoned before their

colour. Thus, if a field is divided say, by bendlets (Fig. 30), the
diminution of bend, it is blazoned "per bendlets," if by a pale (Fig. 18),
"per pale," or "per pallets," if the diminutive occurs, as in Fig. 31,
whilst the division in Fig. 32 should be blazoned "pale per fesse." The
field of Fig. 17 is blazoned "arg., two bars gu." All the ordinaries and
subordinaries are blazoned in this way except the chief, (Fig. 15), the
quarter (blazoned "per cross or quarterly") the canton, the flanch, and
the bordure. These, being considered less important than the other
divisions, are never mentioned until all the rest of the shield has been
described. Consequently, we should blazon Fig. 48 thus, "Arg., chevron
gu., three soles hauriant—drinking, proper, with a bordure invected
sa."
 Fig. 30. Fig.
31. Fig. 32.

The term invected reminds us that so far we have only spoken of

ordinaries which have straight unbroken outlines. But there are at
least thirteen different ways in which the edge of an ordinary may vary
from the straight line. Here, however, we can only mention the four
best-known varieties, termed, respectively, engrailed, (Fig. 33, 1),
invected (2), embattled (3), and indented (4). Other varieties are
known as wavy, raguly, dancetté, dovetailed, nebuly, etc. Whenever
any of these varieties occur, they must be blazoned before the
tincture. Thus in describing the Shelley arms, Fig. 50, we should say:
"Sa, fesse indented, whelks or." Fig. 34 shows a bend embattled, Fig.
35 a fesse engrailed.

Fig. 34.

Fig. 33.
 Fig. 35.

4. The next thing to be blazoned is the principal charge on the field. If

this does not happen to be one of the chief ordinaries, or if no
ordinary occurs in the coat of arms, as in Fig. 38, then that charge
should be named which occupies the fesse point, and in this case the
position of the charge is never mentioned, because it is understood
that it occupies the middle of the field. When there are two or more
charges on the same field, but none actually placed on the fesse point,
then that charge is blazoned first which is nearest the centre and then
those which are more remote. All repetition of words must be avoided
in depicting a coat of arms, the same word never being used twice
over, either in describing the tincture or in stating a number.

Thus, in blazoning Lord Scarborough's arms (see coloured plate), we

must say: "Arg., fesse gu., between three parrots vert, collared of the
second," the second signifying the second colour mentioned in the
blazon—viz., gules. Again, if three charges of one kind occur in the
same field with three charges of another kind, as in the arms of
Courtenay, Archbishop of Canterbury, who had three roundles and
three mitres, to avoid repeating the word three, they are blazoned,
"Three roundles with as many mitres."

When any charge is placed on an ordinary, as in Fig. 41, where three

calves are charged upon the bend, if these charges are of the same
colour as the field instead of repeating the name of the colour, it must
be blazoned as being "of the field."
We now come to those charges known as "marks of cadency." They
are also called "differences" or "distinctions."

Fig. 36.

Cadency—literally, "falling down"—means in heraldic language,

"descending a scale," and is therefore a very suitable term for
describing the descending degrees of a family. Thus "marks of
cadency" are certain figures or devices which are employed in armorial
bearings in order to mark the distinctions between the different
members and branches of one and the same family. These marks are
always smaller than other charges, and the herald is careful to place
them where they do not interfere with the rest of the coat of arms.
There are nine marks of cadency—generally only seven are quoted—
so that in a family of nine sons, each son has his own special
difference. The eldest son bears a label (Fig. 36, 1); the second, a
crescent, (2); third, a mullet (3)—the heraldic term for the rowel of a
spur3; the fourth, a martlet (4)—the heraldic swallow; the fifth, a
roundle or ring (5); the sixth, a fleur-de-lys (6); the seventh, a rose
(7); the eighth, a cross moline; and the ninth, a double quatrefoil. The
single quatrefoil represents the heraldic primrose. There is much doubt
as to why the label was chosen for the eldest son's badge, but though
many writers interpret the symbolism of the other marks of cadency in
various ways, most are agreed as to the meaning of the crescent,
mullet, and martlet—viz., the crescent represents the double blessing
which gives hope of future increase; the mullet implies that the third
son must earn a position for himself by his own knightly deeds; whilst
the martlet suggests that the younger son of a family must be content
with a very small portion of land to rest upon. As regards the
representation of the other charges, the writer once saw the following
explanation in an old manuscript manual of French heraldry—namely:
"The fifth son bears a ring, as he can only hope to enrich himself
through marriage; the sixth, a fleur-de-lys, to represent the quiet,
retired life of the student; the seventh, a rose, because he must learn
to thrive and blossom amidst the thorns of hardships; the eighth, a
cross, as a hint that he should take holy orders; whilst to the ninth son
is assigned the double primrose, because he must needs dwell in the
humble paths of life."

3: A mullet is generally represented as a star with five points, but if

there are six or more, the number must be specified. It must also be
stated if the mullet is pierced, so that the tincture of the field is shown
through the opening.

The eldest son of a second son would charge his

difference as eldest son, a label, upon his father's
crescent (Fig. 37), to show that he was descended
from the second son, all his brothers charging their
own respective differences on their father's crescent
Fig. 37. also. Thus, each eldest son of all these sons in turn
becomes head of his own particular branch.

When a coat of arms is charged with a mark of cadency, it is always

mentioned last in blazoning, and is followed by the words, "for a
difference." Thus Fig. 43 should be blazoned, "Or, kingfisher with his
beak erected bendways4 proper with a mullet for a difference gu.,"
thus showing that the arms are borne by a third son.

4: The individual direction of a charge should be blazoned, as well as

its position in the field.
 CHAPTER V
COMMON OR MISCELLANEOUS CHARGES

After the "proper charges" which we have just been considering, we

come to those termed "common or miscellaneous."

(How truly miscellaneous these are we have already shown in our

first chapter.) Guillim arranges these charges in the following order:

Celestial Bodies.—Angels, sun, moon, stars, etc.

Metals and Minerals.—Under this latter title rank precious stones and
useful stones—such as jewels and millstones, grindstones, etc., also
rocks.

Plants and other Vegetatives.

Living Creatures.—These latter he divides into two classes—viz.,

"Those which are unreasonable, as all manner of beasts" and "Man,
which is reasonable."

To begin with the heavenly bodies.

Angels, as also human beings, are very rare charges, though Guillim
quotes the arms of one Maellock Kwrm, of Wales, where three robed
kneeling angels are charged upon a chevron, and also the coat of
arms of Sir John Adye in the seventeenth century, where three
cherubim heads occur on the field. Both angels and men, however,
are often used in heraldry as supporters. Charles VI. added two
angels as supporters to the arms of France, and two winged angels
occur as such in the arms of the Earl of Oxford.

Supporters, you must understand, are those figures which are

represented standing on either side of a shield of arms, as if they
were supporting it. No one may bear these figures except by special
grant, the grant being restricted to Peers, Knights of the Garter,
Thistle, and St. Patrick, Knights Grand Cross, and Knights Grand
Commanders of other orders.

Charges of the sun, moon, and other heavenly bodies are

comparatively rare. One St. Cleere rather aptly bears the "sun in
splendour," which is represented as a human face, surrounded by
rays. Sir W. Thompson's shield is charged with the sun and three
stars. The sun eclipsed occurs occasionally in armorial bearings; it is
then represented thus: Or, the sun sable.

The moon occurs very often in early coats of arms, either full, when
she is blazoned "the moon in her complement," or in crescent. The
Defous bear a very comical crescent, representing a human profile.
Of these arms, the old herald says severely: "A weak eye and a
weaker judgment have found the face of a man in the moon,
wherein we have gotten that fashion of representing the moon with
a face."

The moon is certainly not in favour with Guillim, for, after declaring
that she was the symbol of inconstancy, he quotes the following
fable from Pliny to her discredit:

"Once on a time the moon sent for a tailor to make her a gown, but
he could never fit her; it was always either too big or too little, not
through any fault of his own, but because her inconstancy made it
impossible to fit the humours of one so fickle and unstable."

The sixth Bishop of Ely had very curious arms, for he bore both sun
and moon on his shield, the sun "in his splendour" and the moon "in
her complement."
Stars occur repeatedly as heraldic charges. John Huitson of Cleasby
bore a sixteen-pointed star; Sir Francis Drake charged his shield with
the two polar stars; whilst Richard I. bore a star issuing from the
horns of a crescent. The Cartwrights bear a comet; whilst the
rainbow is charged on the Ponts' shield, and is also borne as a crest
by the Pontifex, Wigan, and Thurston families. The Carnegies use a
thunderbolt as their crest.

We now come to the elements—fire, water, earth, and air, which all
occur as charges, but not often, in armorial bearings.

Fire, in the form of flames, is perhaps the most frequent charge. The
Baikie family bear flames, whilst we have seen the picture of a
church window in Gloucestershire, where a coat of arms is
represented with a chevron between three flames of fire. The
original bearer of these arms distinguished himself, we were told, by
restoring the church after it had been burnt down. Fire often occurs
in combination with other charges, such as a phœnix, which always
rises out of flames, the salamander,1 and the fiery sword.

1: The salamander was the device of Francis I. of France, and on the

occasion of the Field of the Cloth of Gold the French guard bore the
salamander embroidered on their uniforms.

Queen Elizabeth chose a phœnix amidst flames as one of her

heraldic charges. Macleod, Lord of the Isles of Skye and Lewis, bears
"a mountain inflamed"—literally, a volcano—on his shield, thus
combining the two elements, earth and fire.

"Etna is like this," says Guillim; "or else this is like Etna."

Water, as we know, is usually represented by roundlets, but the

earth may figure in a variety of ways when introduced into heraldry.

In the arms of one King of Spain it took the shape of fifteen islets,
whilst one Sir Edward Tydesley charged his field with three mole-
hills.
Jewels pure and simple occur very rarely as charges. A single
"escarbuncle" was borne by the Empress Maud, daughter of Henry
I., as also by the Blounts of Gloucester. Oddly enough, however, mill-
stones were held to be very honourable charges, because, as they
must always be used in pairs, they symbolized the mutual
dependence of one fellow-creature on the other. They were
therefore considered the most precious of all other stones.

The family of Milverton bear three mill-stones.

Plants, having been created before animals, are considered next.

Trees, either whole or represented by stocks or branches, are very

favourite charges, and often reflect the bearer's name.

Thus, one Wood bears a single oak, the Pines, a pineapple tree, the
Pyrtons, a pear-tree. Parts of a tree are often introduced into arms.
For example, the Blackstocks bear three stocks, or trunks, of trees,
whilst another family of the same name charge their shield with
"three starved branches, sa." The Archer-Houblons most
appropriately bear three hop-poles erect with hop-vines. (Houblon is
the French for hop.) Three broom slips are assigned to the Broom
family; the Berrys bear one barberry branch; Sir W. Waller, three
walnut leaves. Amongst fruit charges, we may mention the three
golden pears borne by the Stukeleys, the three red cherries which
occur in the arms of the Southbys of Abingdon, and the three
clusters of grapes which were bestowed on Sir Edward de Marolez
by Edward I. One John Palmer bears three acorns, and three ashen-
keys occur in the arms of Robert Ashford of Co. Down.

A full-grown oak-tree, covered with acorns and growing out of the

ground, was given for armorial bearings by Charles II. to his faithful
attendant, Colonel Carlos, as a reminder of the perils that they
shared together at the lonely farmhouse at Boscobel, where the king
took refuge after the Battle of Worcester. Here, as you probably all
know, Charles hid himself for twenty-four hours in a leafy oak-tree,
whilst Cromwell's soldiers searched the premises to find him, even
passing under the very branches of the oak. Carlos, meanwhile, in
the garb of a wood-cutter, kept breathless watch close by. On the
Carlos coat of arms a fesse gu., charged with three imperial golden
crowns, traverses the oak.

In blazoning trees and all that pertains to them, the following terms
are used: Growing trees are blazoned as "issuant from a mount
vert"; a full-grown tree, as "accrued"; when in leaf, as "in foliage";
when bearing fruit, as "fructed," or seeds, as "seeded." If leafless,
trees are blazoned "blasted"; when the roots are represented, as
"eradicated"; stocks or stumps of trees are "couped." If branches or
leaves are represented singly, they are "slipped." Holly branches, for
some odd reason, are invariably blazoned either as "sheaves" or as
"holly branches of three leaves."

Some of our homely vegetables are found in heraldry. One Squire

Hardbean bears most properly three bean-cods or pods; a "turnip
leaved" is borne by the Damant family, and is supposed to symbolize
"a good wholesome, and solid disposition," whilst the Lingens use
seven leeks, root upwards, issuing from a ducal coronet, for a crest.
Herbs also occur as charges. The family of Balme bears a sprig of
balm, whilst rue still figures in the Ducal arms of Saxony. This
commemorates the bestowal of the Dukedom on Bernard of Ascania
by the Emperor Barbarossa, who, on that occasion, took the chaplet
of rue from his own head and flung it across Bernard's shield.

Amongst flower charges, our national badge, the rose, is prime

favourite, and occurs very often in heraldry. The Beverleys bear a
single rose, so does Lord Falmouth. The Nightingale family also use
the rose as a single charge, in poetical allusion to the Oriental
legend of the nightingale's overpowering love for the "darling rose."
The Roses of Lynne bear three roses, as also the families of Flower,
Cary, and Maurice. Sometimes the rose of England is drawn from
nature, but it far oftener takes the form of the heraldic or Tudor
rose. Funnily enough, however, when a stem and leaves are added
to the conventional flower, these are drawn naturally.

There are special terms for blazoning roses. Thus, when, as in No. 7
of Fig. 36, it is represented with five small projecting sepals of the
calyx, and seeded, it must be blazoned "a rose barbed and seeded";
when it has a stalk and one leaf it is "slipped," but with a leaf on
either side of the stalk, it is "stalked and leaved." A rose surrounded
with rays is blazoned "a rose in sun" (rose en soleil). Heraldic roses
are by no means always red, for the Rocheforts bear azure roses,
the Smallshaws a single rose vert, whilst the Berendons have three
roses sable.

The thistle, being also our national badge, has a special importance
in our eyes, but next to the "chiefest among flowers, the rose, the
heralds ranked the fleur-de-lys," because it was the charge of a regal
escutcheon, originally borne by the French kings. Numerous legends
explain the introduction of the lily into armorial bearings, but we can
only add here that although the fleur-de-lys is generally used in
heraldry, the natural flower is occasionally represented—as in the
well-known arms of Eton College; three natural lilies, silver, are
charged upon a sable field, one conventional fleur-de-lys being also
represented. Amongst other flower charges, three very pretty coats
of arms are borne respectively by the families of Jorney, Hall, and
Chorley. The first have three gilliflowers, the second, three
columbines, and the last, three bluebottles (cornflowers).

Three pansies were given by Louis XV. to his physician, Dr. Quesnay,
as a charge in a coat of arms, which he drew with his own royal
hand; and to come to modern times, Mexico has adopted the cactus
as the arms of the Republic, in allusion to the legend connected with
the founding of the city in 1325, when it is said that the sight of a
royal eagle perched upon a huge cactus on a rocky crevice, with a
serpent in its talons, guided the Mexicans to the choice of a site for
the foundations of their city.
One last word as to cereals.

The Bigland family bear two huge wheat-ears, which, having both
stalk and leaves, are blazoned "couped and bladed." As in the case
of trees, when represented growing, wheat-ears are described as
"issuant out of a mount, bladed and eared." Three ears of Guinea
wheat, "bearded like barley," are borne by Dr. Grandorge (Dr. Big-
barley); three "rie stalks slipped and bladed" occur in the arms of
the Rye family; whilst "five garbes" (sheaves) were granted to Ralph
Merrifield by James I.

Wheat-sheaves (garbes) are very favourite charges. Lord Cloncurry

bears three garbes in chief; Sir Montague Cholmeley bears a garbe
in the base of his shield, as does also the Marquis of Cholmondeley.

Garbes and wheat-ears were also much used as crests.

The Shakerleys have a sheaf of corn for their crest, on the left of
which is a little rabbit, erect, and resting her forefeet on the garbe;
Sir Edward Denny's crest is a hand holding five wheat-ears; whilst
Sir George Crofton has seven ears of corn as his crest.

Though quite out of order amongst cereals, we may mention what

is, I believe, a rather rare example of the representation of the fern
in heraldry, Sir Edward Buckley's crest—a bull's head out of a fern
brake.
 CHAPTER VI
ANIMAL CHARGES

In dealing with charges of living creatures, we shall observe the

following order: (a) "Animals of all sort living on the earth"; (b)
"such as live above the earth"; (c) "watery creatures"; (d) "man."

First, amongst the animals, come those with undivided feet—

elephant, horse, ass. Second, those with cloven feet—bull, goat,
stag, etc. Third, those beasts that have many claws—lions, tigers,
bears, etc.

To blazon animal charges, many special terms are required,

describing their person, limbs, actions, attitudes, etc.

"And as," says Guillim, "these beasts are to explain a history, they
must be represented in that position which will best show it."

Moreover, each beast was to

be portrayed in its most
characteristic attitude. Thus,
a lion should be drawn erect
with wide-open jaws and
claws extended, as if "about
to rend or tear." In this
posture he is blazoned
Fig. rampant (Fig. 38). A leopard
38. Fig. 39. must be represented going
"step by step" fitting his
natural disposition; he is then passant. A deer or lamb "being both
gentle creatures," are said to be trippant (Fig. 39), and so on; the
heraldic term varying, you understand, to suit the particular animal
charge that is being blazoned. Living charges when represented on a
shield must always, with rare exceptions, appear to be either looking
or moving towards the dexter side of the shield (see Fig. 39). The
right foot or claw is usually placed foremost as being the most
honourable limb (see Fig. 38).

The elephant, having solid feet, is mentioned first, although the lion
is really the only animal—if we except the boar's head—which occurs
in the earliest armorial bearings. The Elphinstones charge their
shield with an elephant passant, whilst the Prattes bear three
elephants' heads erased. This term implies that they have been torn
off and have ragged edges.
 PLATE 4.

THE EARL OF SCARBOROUGH.

Arms.—Arg: a fesse gu: between 3 parrots vert
collared of the second.
Crest.—A pelican in her piety.

Supporters.—Two parrots, wings inverted vert.

Motto.—Murus aēnēus conscientia sana.

After describing this charge, Guillim rather comically gives us this

story:

"An elephant of huge greatness was once carried in a show at Rome,

and as it passed by a little boy pried into its proboscis. Thereupon,
very much enraged, the beast cast the child up to a great height,
but received him again on his snout and laid him gently down, as
though he did consider that for a childish fault a childish fright was
revenge enough."

Horses, of course, figure largely in armorial

bearings. One, William Colt, bears three horses
"at full speed" (Fig. 40). So also does Sir Francis
Rush—probably in allusion to his name—whilst
horses' heads couped—that is, cut off smoothly
—occur very frequently. A demi-horse was
granted as a crest to the Lane family in
recognition of Mistress Jane Lane's heroism in
riding from Staffordshire to the South Coast on Fig. 40.
a roan horse, with King Charles II. behind her,
after the disastrous Battle of Worcester.

Donkeys were evidently at a discount with heralds. The families of

Askewe and Ayscough bear three asses passant charged on their
shield, and there is an ass's head in the arms of the Hokenhalls of
Cheshire.

Oxen occur fairly often in heraldry. The Oxendens bear three oxen;
three bulls occur in the arms of Anne Boleyn's father, the Lord of
Hoo, whilst the same arms were given by Queen Elizabeth to her
clockmaker, Randal Bull of London. The Veitchs bear three cows'
heads erased, a rather uncommon charge, as female beasts were
generally deemed unworthy of the herald's notice. The Veales bear
three calves passant (Fig. 41), anent which Guillim adds: "Should
these calves live to have horns, which differ either in metal or colour
from the rest of their body, there must be special mention made of
such difference in blazoning them." Hereby, he reminds us of the
important rule for blazoning animals with horns and hoofs. Goats
and goats' heads are often used in heraldry. A single goat passant is
borne by one, Baker; three goats salient—leaping—occur in the
Thorold arms, whilst the Gotley family—originally Goatley—charge a
magnificent goat's head on their shield.
 Bulls, goats, and rams, when their horns differ
in tincture from the rest of their body, are
blazoned "armed of their horns," these latter in
their case being regarded as weapons. When,
however, special mention is made of a stag's
antlers, he is said to be "attired of his antlers,"
his horns being regarded as ornaments. (The
branches of his antlers are termed tynes.)
Fig. 41.
Stags, as you would expect, are highly
esteemed by the old heralds, who employed
various terms in blazoning them. Thus, a stag in repose was
"lodged," looking out of the field, "at gaze"; in rapid motion, he was
"at speed" or "courant"; whilst, when his head was represented full
face and showing only the face, it was blazoned as "cabossed" from
the Spanish word for head. (Many of these terms we shall find in
blazoning other animal charges.) Early heralds make careful
distinction between a hind or calf, brockets, stags and harts. (A hind,
you know, is the female, calf is the infant deer, brocket the two-year-
old deer, stag the five-year-old, and hart the six-year-old deer.)

The Harthills very properly bear a "hart lodged on a hill;" a single

stag, his back pierced by an arrow, occurs in the Bowen arms, and
the Hynds bear three hinds. Three bucks "in full course" are borne
by the Swifts. Deer's heads are very common charges, generally
occurring in threes. In the coat of arms of the Duke of Wurtemberg
and Teck, we find three antlers charged horizontally across the
shield.

A reindeer is drawn in heraldry with double antlers, one pair erect

and one drooping.

The boar was deemed a specially suitable badge for a soldier, who
should rather die valorously upon the field than secure himself by
ignominious flight. Both the Tregarthens and Kellets bear a single
boar, whilst a boar's head, either singly or in threes, occurs very
constantly in coats of arms. A boar is blazoned "armed of his tusk"
or "armed and langued," when his tongue is shown of a different
tincture. Moreover, as Mr. Fox-Davies reminds us in his interesting
"Guide to Heraldry," an English boar's head is described as "couped"
or erased "at the neck," but the Scotch herald would blazon the
same charge as "couped and erased" "close."

The Earl of Vere takes a boar for his crest, in allusion to his name,
verre being the Latin for boar.

The Grice family bear a wild boar, formerly called a "grice."

The Winram family bear a single ram, the Ramsays of Hitcham bear
three rams on their shield.

A very pretty coat of arms belongs to the Rowes of Lamerton in

Devon, "gu: three holy lambs with staff, cross and banner arg:."

Foremost amongst the beasts that have "many claws" is the lion;
next to him come the tiger, leopard, bear, wolf, ranking more or less
as the aristocrats amongst their kind, whilst the cat, fox, hare, etc.,
are placed far beneath them. Of all the animal charges, none is more
popular amongst the heralds of all times and lands than the lion.
Extraordinary care was taken to blazon the king of beasts befittingly.
Fig. 38 has already shown you a "lion rampant," and so
indispensable was this attitude considered by the early heralds to
the proper representation of a lion, that if they were obliged to
depict a "lion passant"—that is, "one that looked about him as he
walked"—he was then blazoned as a leopard.

That is why the beasts in our national arms, although they are really
lions and meant for such, are not called so, because their undignified
attitude reduces them to the rank of heraldic leopards! A lion
rampant—and other beasts of prey as well—is generally represented
with tongue and claws of a different tincture from the rest of his
person; he is then blazoned "langued and unguled," the latter term
being derived from the Latin for a claw. A lion in repose is blazoned
"couchant" when lying down with head erect and forepaws
extended; he is "sejant"—sitting; seated with forepaws erect, he is
"sejant rampant"; standing on all fours, he is "statant"—standing;
standing in act to spring, he is "salient"—leaping; when his tail is
forked and raised above his back, he is said to have a "queue
fourchée"—literally a forked tail. (This last attitude is not often
seen.) But when he is represented running across the field and
looking back, then the heralds label the king of beasts "coward!"

A single lion is a very frequent charge, but two lions are rarer. The
Hanmers of Flintshire, descended from Sir John Hanmer in the reign
of Edward I., have two lions, and we find two lions "rampant
combatant"—that is, clawing each other—"langued armed" in the
Wycombe coat of arms; whilst one, Garrad of London, bears two
lions "counter-rampant"—i.e., back to back, and very droll they look.
Demi-lions rampant also occur in armorial bearings.

The different parts of a lion are much used; the head, either erased
or couped, the face cabossed, the paws, borne either singly or in
twos and threes, and lastly, we find the tail represented in various
postures. The Corkes bear three lions' tails.

The tiger follows the lion and has terms of blazon peculiar to himself.
Thus, the single tiger borne by Sir Robert Love is depicted as
"tusked, maned and flasked." In the arms of the De Bardis family, a
tigress is represented gazing into a mirror, which lies beside her on
the ground. This odd charge alludes to the fable that a tigress,
robbed of her whelps, may be appeased by seeing her own
reflection in a glass. A tiger's head is used but seldom as a separate
charge.

Apparently the bear stood higher in favour with the old heralds. The
family of Fitzurse charge their shield with a single bear passant, the
Barnards have a bear "rampant and muzzled," whilst the Beresfords'
bear is both "muzzled and collared." The Berwycks bear a bear's
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