Fresh air affects children’s constitutions, particularly in
early years. It enters every pore of a soft and tender skin, it has a powerful
effect on their young bodies. Its effects can never be destroyed. So I should
not agree with those who take a country woman from her village and shut her up
in one room in a town and her nursling with her. I would rather send him to
breathe the fresh air of the country than the foul air of the town. He will
take his new mother’s position, will live in her cottage, where his tutor will
follow him. The reader will bear in mind that this tutor is not a paid servant,
but the father’s friend. But if this friend cannot be found, if this transfer
is not easy, if none of my advice can be followed, you will say to me, “What
shall I do instead?” I have told you already—“Do what you are doing;” no advice
is needed there.
Men are not made to be crowded together in ant-hills, but
scattered over the earth to till it. The more they are massed together, the
more corrupt they become. Disease and vice are the sure results of over-crowded
cities. Of all creatures man is least fitted to live in herds. Huddled together
like sheep, men would very soon die. Man’s breath is fatal to his fellows. This
is literally as well as figuratively true.
Men are devoured by our towns. In a few generations the race
dies out or becomes degenerate; it needs renewal, and it is always renewed from
the country. Send your children to renew themselves, so to speak, send them to
regain in the open fields the strength lost in the foul air of our crowded
cities. Women hurry home that their children may be born in the town; they
ought to do just the opposite, especially those who mean to nurse their own
children. They would lose less than they think, and in more natural surroundings
the pleasures associated by nature with maternal duties would soon destroy the
taste for other delights.
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