I remain, &c. &c.

LETTER VIII.

EXPENSES, AND RUNNING IN DEBT.

MY DEAR NEPHEW,

I do not know exactly what allowance your father has been able to give you, but whatever it may be, I trust that you are resolutely determined to keep within it. This will, of course, require a good deal of care and attention. Many young men, when, upon going to the University, they find in their pockets a much larger sum than they ever possessed before, fancy themselves rich, and at liberty to allow themselves various unnecessary indulgences. The consequence is, that they become entangled in debts, from which they can never extricate themselves during their continuance at Oxford. Be on your guard against getting thus hampered.

Take it for granted, that the regular and necessary claims upon your finances will leave but little over for the indulgence of pleasure or fancy.

The expenses of an University education are often most unfairly exaggerated by writers and speakers, who are fond of running down all old inst.i.tutions. These carpers affect to set down to the score of the University all the money that is spent by the young men who reside in it. They seem to forget that, wherever a young man may be, he must eat and drink, and must purchase clothes suitable to his station in society.

I was myself, as you probably know, at Christ Church, where I took my degree, and afterwards became a Fellow of Oriel. At Oriel, (which may probably be taken as a fair average of the rest of the University,) the _necessary_ annual expenses of a commoner are from 70l. to 80l., or thereabouts[101:1]. This includes room-rent, batels, (that is, breakfast, dinner, &c. _exclusive_ of tea and sugar), tuition, University and College dues, coals, letters, washing, servants. The University dues are less than 1l. per annum. There are, perhaps, few places in England, where a gentleman can be comfortably lodged and boarded at a much cheaper rate. Still there will always be many incidental expenses, and you must put in practice a pretty severe economy in order to meet them.

In the manner in which you spend your money, as in every thing else, accustom yourself to a certain degree of self-denial. Do not buy any thing merely because it hits your fancy, and you think you should _like to have it_, but consider whether you cannot easily _do without it_. Be as liberal as you can reasonably afford to be in a.s.sisting others, especially the poor, but spend as little as you can help upon yourself.

Above all, never buy, or order, any thing which you are unable to pay for.

The habit of running in debt is pregnant with evil and misery of every description. It often--perhaps generally--amounts to positive dishonesty. The money which you owe a tradesman is really his property.

The articles, which you have received from him, are hardly your own, until you have paid for them. If you keep them, without paying for them when the seller wishes and asks for payment, you deprive a man of that which belongs to him; and is not that something approaching to robbery?

To a man possessed of proper feeling and a nice sense of honour, it must be very painful to suffer a tradesman to ask twice for what is clearly his right. To affect to be offended with such an application, and to meet it with superciliousness and insolence, is injustice carried to its height.

The manner in which some men, who would be ready to shoot any one who disputed their claims to be considered as gentlemen, treat their creditors, whom they choose to call _duns_, would, from its contrariety to any thing like reason, be almost ludicrous, if it were not so culpable, so cruel, and so dishonest.

A tradesman, from not being able to recover the money owed to him, sees himself in danger of losing his credit, and, together with his credit, the means of getting a maintenance; he sees his wife and children perhaps upon the very verge of misery, and yet, if he civilly asks for what is his due, he is considered as troublesome and impertinent, perhaps reproached and insulted!

Upon this subject I shall allow myself to quote the words of Delany, the friend of Dean Swift, one of the most animated and sensible of our sermon writers.

"Running in debt with tradesmen, and neglecting to pay them in due time, is utterly ruinous to the whole business of trade and commerce, and absolutely destructive of the very principles upon which it is built, and by which it subsists; and yet this is a crime every day committed by men of fortune and quality, with as little remorse as they eat and drink; and if the tradesman demands his money, it is odds but he is either threatened or turned into a jest. The son of Sirach's wise observation is here every day verified, merely subst.i.tuting the words _rich_ and _poor_, for the words _debtor_ and _creditor_. _The debtor hath done wrong, and yet he threateneth; the creditor is wronged, and yet he must entreat also._ If threats will not rid these men of their importunate creditors, then are they to be deluded with fair words and plausible excuses, to pay attendance from day to day, to the loss of more time, and neglect of more business, than perhaps the debt is worth; and so the first injury, instead of being repaired is doubled. And yet the _gentleman_ debtor, the author of this evil, is so far from repenting of it, that it is odds but he vaunts his wit and dexterity in doing it. _As a mad man_ (saith Solomon) _who casteth firebrands, arrows, and death: so is the man that deceiveth his neighbour, and saith, Am I not in jest?_ And, indeed, it is scarce to be conceived how any man can deal more destruction and ruin around him, than by deceiving and breaking faith with the fair trader; for it is well known, his credit, his whole subsistence, depends upon keeping his word, and being strictly punctual in his payments and his promises; and, if he fail in these, he is undone at once. And how is it possible he should not fail, if the gentlemen he deals with fail him? He hath no way of raising money but by sale of his goods; and if those to whom they are trusted will not pay him, it is impossible he can pay his creditors; and, if he do not pay them, it is impossible but he must be ruined, and, perhaps, many more with him. For traders are linked and dependent on one another; and one man's fall throws down many more with him: the shop-keeper is in debt to the maker or the merchant; and these again to the journeyman, the farmer, or the foreign correspondent; and so the ruin becomes complicated, and extended beyond imagination!"

"Credit is to a tradesman what honour is to a gentleman: to a man that is truly such, (a gentleman,) his honour is as dear as his life: to the trader, credit is as life itself; for he cannot live without it."

You, my dear nephew, will never, I trust, stoop so low as to be guilty of such dishonesty. But then you must keep a vigilant eye upon your expenses. Paying ready money for every thing may be sometimes inconvenient, and may, perhaps, occasion mistakes; but never leave Oxford for a vacation without clearing off every thing that you owe.

Take receipts, and keep them. The most honest and respectable tradesman may sometimes, in the hurry of business, omit to cross a charge out of his book, and will feel a satisfaction in having any doubt as to payment removed. Have such receipts tied up and docketed, so that you may refer to any one of them readily.

Never suffer yourself to be led into needless expense by the example of your companions, and never be ashamed of saying that you cannot afford it.

We sometimes see weak young men vying with each other in the expensive elegance of their furniture and dress, or in the luxury of their entertainments. A man of large fortune produces at his table a variety of costly wines, abundance of ice, and a splendid dessert. Others, from a silly vanity, affect to do the same, although such expensive luxuries are altogether inconsistent with their finances, and with the general habits of men in their rank of life. The more such expenses and foolish ostentation can be checked by the college _authorities_ the better. At all events, do not _you_ be so weak as to fall into them. There is no disgrace in being poor, but there is disgrace and dishonesty too, in contracting debts which you are unable to discharge.

Some young Oxonians, I am afraid, after spending the larger portion of their allowance upon amus.e.m.e.nts and self-indulgence, drive off the payment of what they regard as their more _creditable_ debts till they take their degree, under the idea that they will then be paid by their fathers. This is a most unwarrantable,--sometimes a _cruel_,--drain upon parental kindness. Poets may well speak of university expenses "pinching parents black and blue[112:1]," when this is the case.

The majority of parents, as I have already said, do not send their sons to the University without some degree of pecuniary inconvenience to themselves. It is, indeed, hard upon them, when, in addition to an annual allowance, which, probably, they have furnished not without difficulty, they are called upon for a considerable sum, in order to save their sons' credit--perhaps in order to enable him to take his degree. For you are aware that an unpaid tradesman has the power, if he thinks fit to exert it, of stopping the degree of a spendthrift under-graduate. This power, I believe, is seldom, if ever, exercised.

But surely the being liable to it, through your own misconduct and extravagance, would be attended with a feeling of painful humiliation.

I remain, My dear Nephew, Your affectionate Uncle.

FOOTNOTES:

[101:1] June, 1832.

[112:1] Cowper.

LETTER IX.

TEMPERANCE.

MY DEAR NEPHEW,

In the present state of society, it is, perhaps, less necessary than it would have been formerly, that I should give you any caution or advice on the subject of _temperance_. Five-and-thirty years ago, it was customary to drink a good deal of wine after dinner, and young men at Oxford were not behind-hand with the rest of the world in complying with this bad custom.

It was _then_ generally the system, to initiate a freshman by making him completely drunk. Scripture is by no means sufficiently listened to _now_, but perhaps its warnings were less known and less regarded _then_. The master of the revels and his abettors were ignorant, or unmindful, of the threatenings denounced by the voice of Inspiration,--_Woe unto him that giveth his neighbour drink, that puttest thy bottle to him, and makest him drunken also_: and again--_Woe unto them that are mighty to drink wine, and men of strength to mingle strong drink_. Regardless of these denunciations, and trusting to the strength of their own heads, and the practised discipline of their own stomachs, their _n.o.ble_ ambition was to make drunk as many of their guests as possible, especially any luckless freshman who chanced to be of the party. Those who, whether from religious principle or from manliness of character, did not choose to submit to be made drunk, were obliged either to encounter these _kind_ endeavours with st.u.r.dy resistance,--resistance which sometimes occasioned a total cessation of intercourse and acquaintance,--or to evade them by stratagem. Gla.s.s after gla.s.s was dexterously emptied upon the carpet under the table, or the purple stream sought concealment under heaps of walnut-sh.e.l.ls and orange-peel. In short, at a tolerably large wine-party there was wasted, or _worse than wasted_, a quant.i.ty of Port wine sufficient to check the ravages of a typhus fever in an entire village.

These days of _Celtic barbarism_ are, I hope, utterly pa.s.sed away. As in general society very little wine is consumed, (_excepting at dinner_,) so Oxford has caught the spirit of the times, and the baccha.n.a.lian revels to which I have alluded are, I believe, much less common than they were formerly, if not entirely exploded. I am afraid, however, that even now more wine is drunk in some colleges, than is consistent either with Christian temperance, or with habits of study, or with the preservation of health.

I need not point out to _you_, my dear nephew, the evils which, in a religious point of view, result from drinking to excess. You, I well know, would shudder at the idea of wilfully depriving yourself of reason, and of sinking yourself to the situation of a beast or of a maniac. A man, who has thrown away his reason, has little right to hope for the continuance of the a.s.sisting and preventing grace of G.o.d. And dest.i.tute of the controlling guidance, both of reason and of Divine Grace, what is there left to prevent his ungoverned pa.s.sions from carrying him into the most perilous excesses? There are deadly vices, to which young men are, at all times, but too powerfully solicited by their natural appet.i.tes; and when those appet.i.tes are stimulated by drinking, and all salutary control shaken off, the danger is great indeed. You perhaps may remember an Eastern apologue to the following effect, (I know not where to find it): The Devil having, by the impulse of terror, induced a holy man to consent to commit _some_ crime, allowed him to choose, whether he would get drunk, or be guilty of either of two of the most horrible enormities he could conceive. The poor victim chose drunkenness, as being the least offence, but in the state to which he had thus brought himself, was guilty of all three.

And even if you are kept back from any additional guilt, yet you well know, that by throwing away your reason, you become capable of being guilty of all sorts of absurdities,--that you are liable to say and do a hundred foolish things, of which, when you return to your senses, you will be heartily ashamed,--that you expose yourself to the ridicule and contempt of those, who witness the degraded state to which you have reduced yourself.

A drunken _Christian_ is almost a contradiction in terms; and something the same may be said of a drunken _gentleman_. Among many in the middle and the industrious cla.s.ses of society, there is much intelligence, much quick perception of what is morally right, and of general propriety of behaviour. As such men are not backward in shewing respect, where respect is really due, so they are keen-sighted in detecting gross inconsistencies of conduct, and ready to bestow the full measure of contempt upon those, who, while placed above them by the advantages of birth, and fortune, and education, yet meanly condescend, by their vices and their excesses, to degrade themselves below them.

The inconsistency of any excess in drinking, with the main purpose for which you were sent to Oxford, is palpable. You go to Oxford professedly for study. Independently of the time actually occupied by a wine-party, any excess will, probably, indispose you for study the morning after;

Corpus onustum Hesternis vitiis animum quoque praegravat una, Atque affigit humo divinae particulam aurae.

You will rise from your bed heavy and languid, probably with some disposition to headache; and will be far more inclined to lounge in an easy-chair, or to saunter about in listless idleness, than to sit down to active mental exertion.

I must add, that the habit of drinking much wine during your continuance at Oxford, is not unlikely materially to injure your health in the succeeding periods of your life. Such habit has a tendency permanently to derange and weaken the digestive powers, and to injure and harden the internal coats and the orifices of the stomach. I am persuaded, that much of the tendency to apoplectic and paralytic affections; much of the general indisposition, which we often witness in men advanced beyond the middle period of the usual term of human life,--men who have of late perhaps, lived temperately--is to be attributed to the wine which they drank when young.

But I will not dwell longer on the evils of excessive drinking. You know the admonitions of Scripture,--_Take heed lest at any time your hearts be overcharged with surfeiting and drunkenness. Be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess._ You know that _drunkards cannot inherit the kingdom of G.o.d_; you know that drunkenness is spoken of by St. Paul as being the vice of those, who remain sunk in the thick darkness of ignorance and heathenism, and as utterly unbefitting those who are blessed with the light of the Gospel. Indeed, it is unworthy of any man possessed only of common sense.

Guard, then, my dear nephew, against this degrading habit with determined resolution. Let neither the example, nor the solicitations, nor the taunting jests of your companions, induce you to demean yourself so far, as to be guilty of a vice so utterly unworthy of you, both as a man and as a Christian. If they, for their amus.e.m.e.nt, were to request you to cut off your right hand, you would not feel bound to comply with them. Do not, for their gratification, expose yourself in the condition of a fool, or an idiot. Do not, in order to please a party of thoughtless revellers, incur the displeasure of Almighty G.o.d, and run the hazard of eternal ruin.

And take care, that you do not yourself _acquire_ a taste for any such sensual indulgences. "The appet.i.te for intoxicating liquors," says Paley, "appears to be almost always _acquired_." Guard against the first beginnings of intemperance. _Principiis obsta._ If you are not on your guard, you will be in danger of being carried on, step by step, until retreat becomes out of the question.

You would avoid many trials of your firmness, and be relieved probably from much irksome importunity, if you could make up your mind to renounce wine altogether. This you would do with the less difficulty, if backed by the sanction of medical advice. I apprehend that most medical men, if desired to give their _candid_ opinion, would recommend abstinence from wine as conducive to a _young_ man's health both of body and mind. I knew _water-drinkers_ at Oxford, who yielded to none of their companions in liveliness and all social qualities, either in their own room or at the wine-party of a friend. Many young men in the army, I believe, adopt this system, from motives both of moral and of economical prudence. A pint, or even half a pint, of wine per day, makes a considerable hole in the pay of a subaltern, or in the stipend of a country curate, or in the allowance of a briefless barrister. Avoid acquiring fact.i.tious wants. Do not by habit make wine necessary to your comfort. It is wise, when young, not to indulge in luxuries which in any future period of your life you probably will not be able to afford, consistently with the claims which will then be pressing upon you. I throw out this idea, however, for your own consideration, without urging it as matter of positive advice. I think, however, that your intellect will be clearer, and your mind often more cheerful, if you comply with the suggestion.

Shall I add a word or two upon temperance in _eating_? I hope that there are few young men who are apt to be guilty of the _porcine_ vice of eating to excess; in plain English--of _gluttony_. Perhaps, however, the temptations of a well-appointed dinner, prepared by an exquisite _artiste_, may induce them occasionally to transgress. It is, perhaps, hardly fair to quote from any thing so well known as Addison's paper on Temperance, in the Spectator[128:1], but it is much to my purpose. "It is said of Diogenes, that meeting a young man who was going to a feast, he took him up in the street, and carried him home to his friends, as one who was running into imminent danger, had not he prevented him. What would that philosopher have said, had he been present at the luxury of a modern meal? Would he not have thought the master of a family mad, and have begged his servants to tie down his hands, had he seen him devour fowl, fish, and flesh; swallow oil and vinegar, wines and spices; throw down salads of twenty different sorts, sauces of a hundred ingredients, confections and fruits of numberless sweets and flavours? What unnatural motions and counter-ferments must such a medley of intemperance produce in the body? For my part, when I behold a fashionable table, set out in all its magnificence, I fancy that I see gouts and dropsies, fevers and lethargies, with innumerable distempers, lying in ambuscade among the dishes."

"Nature delights in the most plain and simple diet." He then gives some rules for temperance, which are well worth attending to. This pa.s.sage of Addison is much in the spirit of that of Horace:

----"Variae res Ut noceant homini, credas, memor illius escae Quae simplex olim tibi sederit. At simul a.s.sis Miscueris elixa, simul conchylia t.u.r.dis; Dulcia se in bilem vertent, stomachoque tumultum Lenta feret pituita."