Spring 1852 — Delivered to a “class of ladies” in a Sunday School basement, New York City

I once travelled through one of the most beautiful districts of South Wales, in the inside of a stage-coach. I had heard much of the loveliness of the country, the perfection of its cultivation, and the admirable idea which it would give to a stranger of the peculiar beauties of an English landscape. Accordingly I set off full of eager curiosity, and with my eyes wide open. But unfortunately, I was inside a stage-coach — the miserable little windows confined my view to a most limited scrap of the landscape. If I put my head out of the window, I was jerked to one side, or blinded by dust from the coach wheels, so I was forced to sit still, and content myself with details — now an ivy-covered cottage, then the wall of a gentleman’s country-seat, and then a piece of a distant mountain — in short, I gained no idea of the scenery at all. But coming back, I was resolved to take a different course — so availing myself of English usage, I made a bold effort, and mounted on top of the coach.

Then all was changed in an instant — the whole landscape lay, a beautiful living map all around me the eye could take in at a glance the grand features of the scene — the distant lines of blue mountains, the winding river with its craggy banks crowned by an old castle-the wide expanse of forest and rich pasture land-then, the details which confused me before, assumed their true relations — the ivy-covered cottage joined itself to the village, clustering amongst the trees the garden wall no longer hid the beautiful park and gardens — in short, from my elevated position, I could take in the whole, and consequently understand fully all the parts.

Now, this little travelling experience may serve to illustrate our present position, and show you why I wish to occupy your attention to-day with laws and general principles, rather than with what might seem at first sight more practical matters. It is because in this way alone I can give you that clear understanding of our subject which its immense importance demands, and give to the details of practical application their due position and effect.

In our daily life we deal with facts, with the specialties of knowledge; but it is only by knowing the general laws and principles which govern these facts that we learn their significance, and ascertain their bearings, and are thus able to guard their truth from mistake and misdirection. I might tell you how to feed and educate your children, how to meet disease, and the many formidable evils of our society, but my instruction would be confused and soon forgotten, if I did not first impress upon you the leading principles which will include all our facts, and in accordance with which all permanently useful action must be carried on. These principles will be our observatory, our coach-top, from which we will view the prospect before we attempt to enter a cottage, or visit a country-seat. Let me invite, then, your earnest attention to those laws which will so greatly aid us in our practical studies.

The first one, which is the foundation of all, is the law of exercise. Movement and existence are identical, or at least inseparable. The new-born child wakens to life with a cry. The planet announces its existence by a rapid revolution in its orbit. And every star, shrined in the crystal heavens, though parted from us by a space which the mind fails to comprehend, displays to us through that immense distance, by its changing light, the same lesson which we learn from the tiniest blade of grass — that motion, action, exercise, is the universal law of being of every existence, however organized, and to whatever end, destined in creation.

And this movement is exercise in its largest sense; it is preparation for a use. Though working in modes as varied as the subject, it is fundamentally the same in all.

Exercise is movement, working its appropriate effects, according to the constitution of each being. It is not necessarily connected with volition. Look at the child resting in profound sleep in its mother’s arms — it lies so still, so very tranquil in its rest, that the mother in sudden fear lays her cheek to its lips, to assure herself of its gentle breath. Yet every part of that small frame is at that moment subject to the law of exercise — each organ is busy with its own proper life, collecting its materials, forming its products, appropriating them to their uses, and growing by its work. Tranquil as that little child seems, it illustrates most fully the lesson taught us in every sphere of existence, that exercise is the great law of life!

The history of nations illustrates, in a higher sphere, the existence of this law, which we see ruling the whole creation. The conscious exercise of power, increasing activity, widening aspiration, mark a living race of men.

They may sleep for a while, but underneath the veil of sleep new powers are growing, new thoughts are germinating, and with profound activity, the nation prepares for a sudden outburst of visible life, which is but the result of that long and invigorating repose — a repose in which there was no languor, no cessation of the great law of movement, but only the concentrated and hidden action of the period of preparation.

As we search through the wide universe, and find every where this principle of activity, we must necessarily find it also the law of the human being-for in the individual man is gathered together every law and every department of life. He is the mirror of creation, and higher than all; capable of supreme dominion by representative possession of all the natures put under his control, and qualified for this benign office by his universal sympathies. In him, therefore, should be found the brightest expression of every law — and, accordingly, nowhere do we find more beautifully exhibited, or in more complete and varied form, the fundamental use, the imperative necessity of exercise.

It is by exercise only that man grows; it is only by the activity of each function of the body, of each faculty of his spirit, that he recognizes its life; for until existence is justified by use, it may be in preparation for life, but it does not yet live.

Every act of daily life is a perpetual illustration of this truth — we cannot cease to act, even if we would — the organic life of the body goes on whether we sleep or wake the heart continues to beat, the chest expands, the nerves convey their penetrating influence unceasingly, the busy thoughts will flit through the brain, whether we will or no, and while life remains there is no possibility of avoiding this overmastering necessity.

And what miracles are wrought by this law, when controlled by the will of man! No artist, no orator, no mechanician, springs fully formed into life. The impulse is there — circumstances may favor, but it is only by perpetual exercise, by gathering wisdom from every failure, and new strength from every success, that the hero is developed; it is only by use that his powers grow, his will lends the energy of his life to the special purpose, and thus, by repeated efforts, he reaches the perfection, at which the world gazes with wondering admiration.

Go into a poor tailor’s work-room, look at the weak, pallid form of the workman, with bent and trembling limbs, and unsteady steps-then go to Niblo’s and look at the finely-developed frame of Antoine Ravel; see the inimitable grace and vigor of his movements, his miraculous dexterity, the sovereignty which he has obtained over the body — and in this strange contrast between two human brothers, endowed with the same original powers, the same capacity of development, we learn the mighty power of the law of exercise in the physical world. These men belong to the same race — they hold their existence under equal laws the difference between them illustrates the rewards and penalties attached to those laws.

The infant-man is born meet for the inheritance of this life; but he is subjected to a long infancy of discipline for the duties of his existence-by self-culture, this inheritance must be gradually acquired; his faculties must enlarge, and then be tasked again for still further growth. Indeed, this indefinite development is the proper end of his existence. Rather what he shall become, than what he shall do, is the aim of all achievement, for his works must perish to make room for better works continually, but he must live for that better work.

The power of exercise is strikingly seen in the growth of certain special faculties-thus the connoisseur in wine will discern the age and country of his favorite beverage, by simply tasting a few drops — the deaf and blind will recognize their friends by the sense of touch, and even by smell. The pen of the ready writer, the tongue of the fluent speaker, the ear of the conductor of an orchestra, are wonderful examples of the enhanced mental and bodily power, under appropriate training. This is shown in the moral as in the intellectual life; the strength and government of emotion, as well as the power of thought, exhibit the influence of exercise, and prove its necessity in every range of existence.

This consideration of exercise, as the only means of growth, as essential to the development of every faculty of body and soul, leads me to the second great principle to which I would call your attention, viz., The law of Order in Exercise. This principle should receive our most earnest thought, for it is of immense practical importance — it is the fundamental law of harmonic growth, for though life may be carried on, and the powers unfolded, under the general law of movement, yet life will never reach its true end, the faculties will never attain their due power, imperfection, disease, vice, will appear, if the Divine Order of Exercise is not observed. And the study of this principle is the more pressing, because those faculties in which order may be neglected, that range of our being, viz., where the free will of man rules, are the highest, the crowning parts of our nature. To a certain extent, the world and our own humanity are placed beyond our direct action. Our organs will act, our brains will think, our earth will continue its revolutions independently of our will, and in those regions of existence the Divine Order in movement is observed — but the great object of our life is not simply to live, but to live well, to attain perfection — a perfect body, a noble soul — to destroy all discord and sin, and become an element of harmony in the great universe of worlds.

Now this noble object, this highest end of our life, is subjected to our will not our life, but the purpose of our life, is under our own control. Subject to the universal law of exercise, it is for us to determine, whether we will establish the Divine Order of exercise, in our most important relations and as in all things which are subject to our will, knowledge does not come intuitively, but we must study, observe, learn from experience and reflection, so in the knowledge of the true order of growth, which is essential to our well-being, we must seek in order to find — we must recognize and intelligently apply it. The law of Exercise had only to be pointed out, to be at once received as an essential principle of life-now let us see if the law of Order in Exercise will not also indicate itself as an essential principle of true growth.

We have seen in every realm of Nature the ceaseless activity of life. We have watched the full-orbed planet revolving in splendor in its mighty orbit. How came it there? The patient astronomer, gazing steadfastly night after night into the distant heavens, attains at last even the birthplace of the stars, and reads to us the lesson of order in their growth. There, in the immeasurable realm of space, he points us to a faintly-glowing mist, thin, uniform, unchanging, we cannot guess its meaning — he directs his telescope to another point in the heavens; again we see that pale, widespread mist, but the circumference seems more transparent, the centre still undefined, but denser and of brighter glow — again he shifts the glass, and the mystery is explained the centre has grown dense, bright, round-the mist is becoming transparent, absorbed in that bright centre, that new and rapidly-growing sun — and brighter it will continue to grow, the movement impressed upon it become more decided, till fully formed and subject to its law, it starts majestically upon its appointed course.

How did our earth attain to its present beautiful form, and become so admirably adapted to the residence of man? — layer after layer was formed the solid ground, the water was there but no organic life — the time was not come. The work continued slowly, steadily, but the sun shone down for many centuries, the stars continued their silent watch for thousands of years, before the first blade of grass, the first tree, the first insect appeared on the silent earth-but even then the end was not reached — ages had still to roll on — the wild gigantic forms of plant and animal must change, and earth harmonize her products, and her climate, and her soil, before the crowning glory, the master of all — Man — could appear. Thus in the imperishable tablet of the mountains, on the solid layers of our globe, the geologist reads the lesson of order in growth, the steady progress to a definite end, and the impossibility of accomplishing that end prematurely.

In the moral world we mark the same law. We learn the penalty of its violation as we stand before that noble picture in our Düsseldorf Gallery — the martyrdom of Huss. Why does the noble martyr kneel there chained and crushed? why were the voices of Wickliff, of Jerome, hushed and forgotten while Luther’s rang through the world, and every country still feels the throb of his heroic heart — men as truthful, as impatient of sham, more beautiful in Christian life, had been lost to the world — the right moment had not come. The Divine order of development must be obeyed the age was ripe for Luther, therefore he succeeded.

In individual existences, in the life of nations, throughout the wide realm of Nature, every where we behold a method of growth, an order which cannot be violated with impunity. We may then with full certainty look for the exemplification of this law in the life of the human being, the centre of creation. It is a truth so clear, so unavoidable, that we act upon it necessarily in a general way. No mother goes to her infant daughter for advice in household difficulties, the problems of the State are not given to the child to solve — we know that our children will become housekeepers, and citizens, and governors, in time. We have a dim perception of the order of development, and Nature, by throwing the mantle of incapacity around the child, has guarded her work from the fatal consequences that would ensue, were we able to convert the child into the housekeeper or the politician. We cannot feed men upon milk, nor babes upon strong meat; we must guide the infant steps, and wait patiently year after year, for the bones to harden, the muscles to grow strong, and the brain to enlarge. We know all this, and are forced to conform to our experience; but still the grand law of Order in Exercise, for the life of each individual, is not clearly understood by us, nor its supreme importance felt and acted upon. Nature compels us to its observation in those departments of life, not subject to our will. Let us follow this indication, and harmonize our voluntary and involuntary life, by the intelligent adoption of the true order of growth, the only method of life by which we can carry out the design of our creation.

We have pointed out the grand object of man’s life upon earth — we will now examine those striking features of the human constitution, which present the conditions of growth, and which will enable us to understand clearly what is the law of Order in Exercise for the human being.

The first peculiarity which strikes us, is the double nature of man — the soul and the body — intimately united but always distinct-their functions differing in form, in material, in special objects, though harmoniously blending for one great end — they therefore require separate care, distinct education, but an education that allows of no antagonism or injury to either nature, but blends in the same harmonious way, as the natures blend.

Again we remark that there are three distinct periods in this double nature-the period of growth and preparation, the period of maturity and active use, — and lastly the period of decline and incapacity. From the consideration of these three periods, epochs so well marked as to be generally recognized, we draw a most important practical conclusion, viz., that the second period of life, the age of strength and use, can only be attained, by the orderly and wise discipline of the period of preparation, and that the slightest infringement of this Divine order, will inevitably draw down the double penalty which guards the natural laws, viz., loss of all the power and excellence to be gained by conformity, and the pain, infirmity, and evil, inflicted upon disobedience.

We have thus far noted the exact correspondence of our double nature, in its existence, and its periods — I must now call your attention to an important difference which exists between them, an order of development, which complicates our inquiry, but which nevertheless points out its own requirements so clearly, that he who runs may read. Did the soul and body keep pace step by step through life, and grow with uniform rapidity, then the law of order would require, that the same care, the same favorable conditions, the same education should be given in corresponding adaptation to soul and body, day by day, and year by year. But Nature adopts variety, hierarchy, as her rule, instead of uniformity, monotony — the higher we ascend in the scale of creation, the more compound is every whole, the richer the harmony of each existence. So in the nature of man there is never a dead level between soul and body, each has its hierarchy at different periods of the human life, and most beautiful that arrangement is.

Each human body has its type of form and size, to which it must attain; it may reach this period at different ages, 15, 20, 25, no matter, — at a certain age the body ceases to grow, it has reached its standard, the period of preparation is finished, it enters upon a new epoch. But the mind by no means conforms to this standard the cessation of the body’s growth, never marks the completion of the growth of the mind. At the age of 20, the body has acquired the command of every function, it has consolidated its power, it is fully developed — but the mind is in the full vigor of growth ­— it is receiving new thoughts, new aspirations, the understanding is expanding, the judgment has not begun to ripen — the growth of the mind is much slower than that of the body, and its maturity dates a much later period of life.

Here then is a marked difference in the development of our double nature, and a clear indication of the Divine Order of Exercise — the practical lesson to be deduced from it, may not be neglected. It is an observation in physiology that two organs do not act with equal energy at the same time — while the stomach digests, the brain must rest, and the muscles be in abeyance.

When we would reflect deeply upon any subject we endeavor to escape from all external distractions — we close the eyes, and put all other faculties not required, to rest, and so obtain the greatest force of those which we would employ. It is because the body entirely, and most of the mind is asleep, during our dreams that we often have in them such surprising energy, acuteness, and range

Source: The Laws of Life: With Special Reference to the Physical Education of Girls, by Elizabeth Blackwell, M.D., (New-York: George P. Putnam, 1852), pp. 36-62.