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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Household Education + +Author: Harriet Martineau + +Release Date: November 30, 2011 [EBook #38179] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION *** + + + + +Produced by Julia Miller, Pat McCoy and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg i]</span></p> + + + +<h1>HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.<br /> + + + + +BY<br /> +<br /> +HARRIET MARTINEAU.</h1> + +<p class="center gap4">LONDON:<br /> +EDWARD MOXON, DOVER STREET.<br /> +MDCCCXLIX.<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[Pg iv]</span></p> + + + + +<p class="center gap4"> +LONDON<br /> +BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[Pg v]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>PREFACE.</h2> + + +<p>A portion of this work appeared, some months +ago, in papers in the People's Journal. The +appearance of these papers was suspended by +the change in the affairs of that Journal. From +that time to the present, applications have been +made to me at intervals, to request me to finish +my subject. In deference to these requests, I +have completed my original design. For its +suggestion, I am indebted to Mr. Saunders, the +late editor of the People's Journal. For the +imperfections of the work, which I know to be +many and great, notwithstanding my earnest +interest in what I was writing, no one is responsible +but myself.</p> + +<p class="quotsig"> +<span class="smcap">Ambleside</span>,<br /> +<i>November 16th, 1848</i>.<br /></p> +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg vi]</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum">[Pg vii]</span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + + + +<p>CHAP. <span class="ralign"> PAGE</span></p> +<ul class="TOC" style="list-style-type:upper-roman;"> +<li>OLD AND YOUNG IN SCHOOL<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_1"> 1</a></span></li> + +<li>WHAT THE SCHOOLING IS FOR<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_11"> 11</a></span></li> + +<li>THE NATURAL POSSESSIONS OF MAN <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_21"> 21</a></span></li> + +<li>HOW TO EXPECT<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_32"> 32</a></span></li> + +<li>THE GOLDEN MEAN<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_41"> 41</a></span></li> + +<li>THE NEW COMER<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_50"> 50</a></span></li> + +<li>CARE OF THE FRAME<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_60"> 60</a></span></li> + +<li>CARE OF THE POWERS.—WILL<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_70"> 70</a></span></li> + +<li>HOPE<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_79"> 79</a></span></li> + +<li>FEAR<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_89"> 89</a></span></li> + +<li>PATIENCE <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_103"> 103</a></span></li> + +<li>PATIENCE. INFIRMITY<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_114"> 114</a></span></li> + +<li>PATIENCE. INFIRMITY<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_127"> 127</a></span></li> + +<li>LOVE<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_136"> 136</a></span></li> + +<li>VENERATION <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_148"> 148</a></span></li> + +<li>TRUTHFULNESS <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_159"> 159</a></span></li> + +<li>CONSCIENTIOUSNESS<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_172"> 172</a></span> +<span class="pagenum">[Pg viii]</span></li> +<li>INTELLECTUAL TRAINING.—ITS REQUISITES<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_186"> 186</a></span></li> + +<li>ORDER OF DEVELOPMENT. THE PERCEPTIVE +FACULTIES <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_199"> 199</a></span></li> + +<li>THE CONCEPTIVE FACULTIES<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_213"> 213</a></span></li> + +<li>THE REASONING FACULTIES. FEMALE EDUCATION <span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_230"> 230</a></span></li> + +<li>THE IMAGINATIVE FACULTIES<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_246"> 246</a></span></li> + +<li>CARE OF THE HABITS.—IMPORTANCE OF HABIT<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_262"> 262</a></span></li> + +<li>PERSONAL HABITS<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_275"> 275</a></span></li> + +<li>FAMILY HABITS<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_298"> 298</a></span></li> + +<li>CONCLUSION<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_320"> 320</a></span></li> +</ul> +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 1]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_1" name="Page_1"></a>CHAPTER I.<br /> +<br /> +OLD AND YOUNG IN SCHOOL.</h2> + + +<p>Household education is a subject so important +in its bearings on every one's happiness, and +so inexhaustible in itself, that I do not see how any +person whatever can undertake to lecture upon it +authoritatively, as if it was a matter completely +known and entirely settled. It seems to me that +all that we can do is to reflect, and say what we +think, and learn of one another. This is, at least, +all that I venture to offer. I propose to say, in +a series of chapters, what I have observed and +thought on the subject of <span class="smcap">Life at Home</span>, during +upwards of twenty years' study of domestic life in +great variety. It will be for my readers to discover +whether they agree in my views, and whether their +minds are set to work by what I say on a matter +which concerns them as seriously as any in the +world. Once for all, let me declare here what I<span class="pagenum">[Pg 2]</span> +hope will be remembered throughout, that I have +no ambition to teach; but a strong desire to set +members of households consulting together about +their course of action towards each other.</p> + +<p>It will be seen by these last words that I consider +all the members of a household to be going +through a process of education together. I am +not thinking only of parents drawing their chairs +together when the children have gone to bed, to +talk over the young people's qualities and ways. +That is all very well; but it is only a small part +of the business. I am not thinking of the old, +experienced grandfather or grandmother talking +at the fireside, telling the parents of the sleeping +children how they ought to manage them, and +what rules and methods were in force in their +day. This is all very well; and every sensible +person will be thankful to hear what the aged have +to tell, out of their long knowledge of life: but this +again is a very small part of the matter. Every +member of the household—children, servants, +apprentices—every inmate of the dwelling, must +have a share in the family plan; or those who +make it are despots, and those who are excluded +are slaves.</p> + +<p>Of course, this does not mean that children +who have scarcely any knowledge, little judgment, +and no experience, are to have a choice about the +rules of their own training. The object of training +is one thing; and the rules and methods are<span class="pagenum">[Pg 3]</span> +another. With rules and methods they have +nothing to do but to obey them till they become +able to command themselves. But there is no +rational being who is not capable of understanding, +from the time he can speak, what it is to wish to +be good. The stupidest servant-girl, and the most +thoughtless apprentice-boy, are always impressed +by seeing those about them anxious to improve; +and especially the oldest of all endeavouring the +more to become wiser and wiser, better and better, +as their few remaining days dwindle away. If the +family plan therefore be the grand comprehensive +plan which is alone worthy of people who care +about education at all—a plan to do the best that +is possible by each other for the improvement of +all—every member of the family above the yearling +infant must be a member of the domestic school of +mutual instruction, and must know that he is so.</p> + +<p>It is a common saying that every child thinks +his father the wisest man in the world. This is +very natural; as parents are their children's fountains +of knowledge. To them their children come +for anything they want to know: and by them +they are generally satisfied. But every wise +parent has occasion to say, now and then—"I do +not know, my dear." The surprise of the child +on first hearing that there is anything that his +parents do not know fixes the fact in his mind. +When he has once discovered that his parents +have something more to learn, he becomes aware<span class="pagenum">[Pg 4]</span>—and +this also ought to be fixed in his mind—that +their education is not finished; and that it is +their business, as it is his, to learn something +more every day, as long as they live. So much +for knowledge. The case ought to be as clear to +him with regard to goodness. It is not enough +that in church he hears that all men and women +are sinners; and that in prayers at home he hears +his parents pray that they may become more +worthy of the goodness of God, and more like the +Christ who is set before them. These things may +set him thinking; but there will be, or ought to +be, more light every day to clear up his ideas. +The same parents who honestly own to their child +that they are ignorant of things about which he +questions them will own to him that they are not +nearly so good as they wish to be. Thus is the +truth opened to the feeblest and smallest mind +that education has still to go on, even when people +are so inconceivably old as children are apt to +think their parents.</p> + +<p>To us, grown up to this mighty age, there can +be no doubt on such a point. We know very well +that we are all, through the whole range of society, +like a set of ignorant and wayward children, compared +with what we are made capable of being. +Our best knowledge is but a glimmering—a dawn +of light which we may hope will "increase more +and more unto the perfect day." Our best goodness +is so weak, so mixed, so inferior to what we<span class="pagenum">[Pg 5]</span> +can conceive of, that we should blush to say that +during any day of our lives we had been as good +as we ought to be. It is as clear to us as to +children, that there is room for improvement in +both ways as long as we live. To us there is +another question which children cannot enter into, +and have no present business with;—whether +human beings remain capable of improvement as +long as they live.</p> + +<p>About this, there are different opinions. I +rather think the prevailing belief is that they are +not; and that this prevailing belief arises from +the commonness of the spectacle, not only of the +faults of old age, but of the inability of even +amiable and lively old people to receive new ideas, +or correct bad habits. This is certainly the commonest +aspect of old age; and serious is the warning +it affords to correct our faulty tempers and +ways before we grow stiff in mind, as well as in +body. But I do not think that this spectacle +settles the question. We might as well say that +the human intellect can achieve no great work +after five-and-twenty, because the ill-educated +mind never does. As long as we see one single +instance of a mind still expanding in a man of +eighty-five, of a temper improving in one of ninety, +of a troublesome daily habit conscientiously cured, +after the indulgence of a life-time, by an old lady +of seventy-five, we perceive that education may go +on to the extreme limit of life, and should suppose<span class="pagenum">[Pg 6]</span> +that it might be generally so, but for the imperfect +training of preceding years.</p> + +<p>I have known of one old man whose mind was +certainly still growing when he died, at the age +of eighty-six. I have known of another, whose +study through life had been the laws of the mind, +and who, when his faculties were failing him, +applied himself to <i>that</i> study, marking the gradual +decline of certain of his powers, adding the new +facts to his stores of knowledge, and thus, nourishing +to the last a part of his mind with the decay +of the rest. This instance of persevering self-improvement +under conditions which any one would +admit to be those of release from labour, appears +to me even more affecting than that of the great +physician who watched his own approaching death +with his finger on his pulse, notifying its last +beat as his heart came to a stop, hoping to contribute +one more fact to useful science. With +cases like these before us, how shall we dare to +suppose our education completed while we have +one faculty remaining, or our hearts have yet one +more beat to give?</p> + +<p>As for the continuance of moral education to +the last, I have seen two contrasted cases, in close +neighbourhood, which make the matter pretty +plain, in a practical sense, to me. I knew two old +ladies, living only the length of a street apart, who +were fair specimens of educated and uneducated +old age. The one belonged to a family who were<span class="pagenum">[Pg 7]</span> +remarkable for attaining a great age; and she +always confidently reckoned on her lot being the +same as that of her predecessors. It is true, her +mother, being above a hundred, called her and her +sister "the girls" when they were above seventy; +but still one would have thought that grey hairs +and wrinkles would have gone some way as a +warning to her. Instead, however, of reckoning +on her future years (if she must reckon on them) +as so much time to grow wiser in, she was merely +surprised at her friends when they advised her +(she being then eighty) to make some other terms +for her house than taking another lease of fourteen +years. She could not conceive, as the last lease +had answered so well, why the next should not. +I remember seeing her face, all puckered with +wrinkles, surmounted by rows of bright brown false +curls, and her arms, bare above the elbows, adorned +with armlets, such as young ladies wore half a +century before. I remember a clever pert youth +setting himself to quiz and amuse her by humouring +her in her notions about the state of the world, +drawing her out to praise the last century and +express her ignorant contempt of this, till she +nodded emphatically over her hand of cards, and +declared that the depravity of the age was owing +to gas-lamps and macadamisation. She died very +old, but no wiser than this. Her case proves only +that her education did stop; and not that it need +have stopped. The other was a woman of no<span class="pagenum">[Pg 8]</span> +great cultivation, but of a humble, earnest, benevolent +nature, full of a sense of duty towards God +and man; and, in them, towards herself. Having +survived her nearest connections, she had no +strong desire to live; and her affairs were always +arranged for departure, down to the labelling of +every paper, and the neatness of every drawer. +Yet no one was more alive to the improvements +of the modern world. I shall never forget the +earnest look with which she would listen to any +tidings of new knowledge, or new social conveniences. +A more dignified woman I never +knew; yet she listened to the young who brought +information—listened as a learner—with a deference +which was most touching to witness. But +there was more than this. She was conscious of +having been, in her earlier days, somewhat hard, +somewhat given to lecture and lay down the law, +and criticise people all round by family notions; +a tendency which, if it really existed, arose from +family and not personal pride; for, though she +might overrate the wisdom of parents and brothers, +there never was any sign of her overvaluing her +own. However this might be, she believed that +she had been hard and critical in former times; +and she went on softening and growing liberal to +the day of her death. I never observed any weakness—much +less any laxity—in her gentleness +towards the feeble and the frail. It was the holy +tenderness which the pure and upright can afford<span class="pagenum">[Pg 9]</span> +to indulge and impart. The crowning proof that +her improvement was the result of self-discipline +and not of circumstances was that when, at above +seventy years of age, she became the inmate of a +family whose habits were somewhat rigid, and in +many respects unlike her own, she changed her +own to suit theirs, even forcing herself to an observance +of punctuality, in which she had been +deficient all her life, and about which she had +scarcely ever needed to think while for many years +living alone. Of course, this moral discipline implies +some considerable use of the intellect. She +read a good deal; and carried an earnest mind +into all her pursuits. And when her memory +began to fail, and she could not retain beyond the +day what she had read, her mind did not become +weak. It was always at work, and always on good +subjects, though she could no longer add much to +her store of mere knowledge. Her case proves +surely that education need never stop.</p> + +<p>Now, if we picture to ourselves a household, +with an honoured being like this as the occupant +of the fireside chair, we can at once see how it +may be completely understood and agreed upon +among them all that the education of every one +of them is always going on, and to go on for ever +while they live. No child could ever stand at the +knee of my old friend without feeling that she +was incessantly bent on self-improvement—as +earnest to learn from the humblest and youngest<span class="pagenum">[Pg 10]</span> +as ready to yield the benefits of her experience +and reflections to any whom she could inform and +guide. When taken severely ill, she said with a +smile, to one by her bedside, "Why do you look +so anxious? If I do die to-day, there is nothing +to be unhappy about. I have long passed the +time when I expected to go. What does it matter +whether I die now or a twelve-month hence?" +And when that illness was over, she regarded it +as a process in her training, and persevered, as +before, in trying to grow wiser and more worthy. +Here was a case in which Household Education +visibly included the oldest as naturally as the +youngest. And in all dwellings, all the members +<i>are</i> included in the influences which work upon +the whole, whether they have the wisdom to see it +or not. Henceforward, therefore, I shall write on +the supposition that we are all children together—from +the greatest to the least—the wisest and +the best needing all the good they can get from +the peculiar influences of Home.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 11]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_11" name="Page_11"></a>CHAPTER II.<br /><br /> + +WHAT THE SCHOOLING IS FOR.</h2> + + +<p>Every home being a school for old and young +together, it is necessary, if the training is to be a +good one, to be clear as to what the schooling +is for.</p> + +<p>For the improvement of the pupils, is the most +obvious answer.</p> + +<p>Yes; but what do you mean by improvement? +We must settle what we want to make of the +pupils, or everything will go on at random. In +every country of the world there is some sort of +general notion of what the men and women in it +ought to be: and the men and women turn out +accordingly: and the more certainly, the more +clear the notion is.</p> + +<p>The patriarchs, some thousands of years ago, +had very clear notions of their own of what people +ought to be. One of these sitting in the evening +of a hot day under a terebinth tree ten times his +own age, would be able to give a distinct account +of what he would have the training of his great-grandchildren +tend to. He would lay it down as +the first point of all that the highest honour and +the greatest privilege in the world was to be ex<span class="pagenum">[Pg 12]</span>tremely +old. The next most desirable thing was +to have the largest possible number of descendants; +because the earth was very wide, with not half +enough people in it; and the more people a patriarch +had about him, the richer and more beautiful +would the valleys and pastures be, and the +more power and authority he would have—every +patriarch being an absolute ruler over his own +family, and the more like a king the larger his tribe. +Of course, the old man would say decidedly that +to make the best possible man you must train +a child to obey his parents, and yet more the head +of the tribe, with the most absolute submission; +to do in the cleverest way what was necessary +for defence against an enemy, and to obtain food, +and the skins of beasts for clothing. The more +wives and the more children the better. These +were the principal points. After these, he would +speak of its being right for such as would probably +become the head of a tribe to cultivate such +wisdom and temper as would make them good +rulers, and enable them to maintain peace among +their followers. Such was the patriarchal notion +of improving a man to the utmost—omitting certain +considerations which we think important,—truthfulness, +temperance, amiability, respect for +other men, and reverence for something a good +deal more solemn than mere old age.</p> + +<p>Some wise men in Greece would have given a +different account of the aim of Education. A<span class="pagenum">[Pg 13]</span> +Spartan, for instance, living in a little country +which was always in danger from enemies without +and slaves within, looked upon every boy as a +future soldier, and as born to help to preserve the +state. Every sickly or deformed child might be +killed off at the desire of his father's kin. The +healthy and promising were looked after by the +state from their earliest years; and at the age of +seven were put under public training entirely. +They were taught to bear hunger, and be content +with coarse food; to endure flogging without a +groan, sometimes to the point of death; and all +for practice in bearing pain. They were trained +to all warlike exercises; their amusements were +wrestling and sham battles; their accomplishments +singing martial songs. They were taught +to reverence rank and age; to hate their enemies; +to use fraud in war; to be unable to bear shame, +whether deserved or not; and to treat women with +respect, not at all for their own sakes, but because +despised women could not be the mothers of +heroes. Thus, to make a perfect soldier was +what a good Spartan considered the great object +of education.</p> + +<p>The Jew in his own Palestine would have given +a different answer, in some respects, though he +also reared his children to hate their enemies, and +to covet both martial and patriarchal glory. His +leading belief was that a greater God than any +other nation had ever worshipped was the special<span class="pagenum">[Pg 14]</span> +ruler and protector of his own. Jehovah was the +king as well as the God of the Jews; and the first +virtue of a Jew was to obey every tittle of the +Law, which ordered all things whatsoever in the +lives of those who lived under it. Obedience to +the Law, in affairs of food, dress, seasons of work, +sleep, worship, journeying, &c., as well as in some +higher matters, was the main thing taught by a +good parent, while he knew and thought nothing +of the higher and holier aims opened by the +Gospel; of which, indeed, many a well-meaning +Jewish parent could not bear to hear from the +lips of Christ, when he came to declare what every +man should be. When he declared that men +should rise above the Law, and be perfect as their +Father in Heaven is perfect, some strict Jewish +educators crucified him. In a Jew's mind, the +best man was he who most servilely obeyed the +letter of the Law.</p> + +<p>When I was in America, I saw three kinds of +people who had their own notions of what it was +to be a perfect man—each their own idea of the +chief aim in Education; notions as wide of each +other as those of the Patriarch, the Spartan, and +the Jew. There were the dwellers in the cities; +men speaking our language, and looking very like +ourselves. These men were, as was natural, proud +of their young and prosperous republic; and they +thought more about politics than appears to us +necessary or wise in a life which contains so many<span class="pagenum">[Pg 15]</span> +other great interests. Their children were brought +up to talk politics before they could be qualified +to have an opinion; and taught at school to despise +other nations, and glorify their own, as a +preparation for exercising the suffrage at twenty-one, +and thereby becoming, in a republic so constituted, +a member of the government. The privilege—the +trust—is a most important one; and +we cannot wonder that the subject is an engrossing +one to parents and children. The object of +education among a very large proportion of +American parents is to make politicians: and it +certainly is attained.</p> + +<p>On the same continent, I saw something of a +very different race—the red men. Their idea of +perfection is a man's being a perfect warrior; and +yet in a way quite unlike the Spartans. The red +Indian is not trained as a servant of the State, +but as an individual: and the Indian women are +degraded and oppressed, while the Spartan women +were considered and respected—whatever the +ground of consideration might be. The Indian +boy is trained to use his five senses till they reach +an unequalled degree of nicety. And, when old +enough to bear the pain without dying, he is subjected +first to hunger and want of sleep, and then +to such horrible tortures as it turns one sick to +think of. He who comes out of this trial the +most bravely, and who afterwards shows himself +the most alert sentinel, the strongest and most<span class="pagenum">[Pg 16]</span> +enduring soldier, the most revengeful enemy, the +most cruel conqueror, and the sternest husband +and father, is, in the eyes of his people, the most +perfect man. The red Indians, therefore, generally +make an approach to this kind of character.</p> + +<p>In the island of Mackinaw lives the other sort +of people I have referred to. This island rises out +of the wide waters of the great northern lakes, a +perfect paradise in the midst of the boundless blue +expanse. The people who inhabit it are, for the most +part, half-breeds—the offspring of the red race and +the French colonists who first settled on the island. +The great object here seems to be to become amphibious; +and truly, it appeared to me pretty well +attained. The dark-skinned boys who surrounded +our ship, and all others that I saw, were poppling +about in the water, as easily as so many fowl: and +they scud about in their tiny birch-bark canoes as +readily as we walk on our feet, thinking no more +of being capsized than we do of falling.</p> + +<p>The aim here has about the same level as that +of the Arabs, to whom water is the greatest rarity, +and to whom the sandy desert serves much the +same purpose as the inland seas to the dwellers in +Mackinaw. The horse of the Arab is to him as +the bark-canoe to the half-breed of Mackinaw: +and children are launched into the desert, to live +in it as they best may, as the half-breed boys are +into the watery waste. And they succeed as well, +conquering the desert, turning its dangers into<span class="pagenum">[Pg 17]</span> +sport, and making a living out of it. And so it is +with the native dwellers in the icy deserts of +Siberia. A perfectly educated person there is one +who can surprise the greatest number of water-fowl +in summer, foretell soonest the snow storm in +winter, best learn the hour from the stars, bank up +the most sheltered sleeping-place in the snow, and +light a fire within it the most quickly; dive among +the beavers for the longest time; see in the dark +like an owl, track game like a pointer, fetch it like +a spaniel, hearken like a deer, and run like an +ostrich. Such being the Mongolian notion of perfection, +it is more nearly approached by them +than by others.</p> + +<p>None of these aims are ours, or such as we +approve. What then is ours? It is easy to answer, +"to grow wiser and better every day:" but +then comes the question, what is the wisdom, what +is the goodness, that we aspire to? All the people +I have mentioned aim at improvement in wisdom +and goodness every day. Our difference with them +is precisely about what wisdom and goodness are.</p> + +<p>We are not likely to agree by setting up each +our own notion of wisdom and goodness. Hear +children at school talking of the heroes they admire +most, and see how seldom they agree. One admires +the brave man; another the patient man; another +the philanthropist; another the man of power; +another the man of holiness; another the patriot. +Hear men talking by the fireside of the sages of<span class="pagenum">[Pg 18]</span> +the race; how they vary in their preferences, and +select for themselves from among the group of +mighty minds—the fathers of philosophy, of +science, of art, of law and government, of morals. +We shall never arrive at a practical point by +setting up our separate preferences as aims for all.</p> + +<p>Nor will it answer to fix our aim by any single +example: no, not even—with reverence be it +spoken—by the great Exemplar, Christ himself. +The fault and weakness of this inability are in +ourselves. It is not any cloud in him, but partial +blindness in us, which renders this method insufficient +by itself. All-perfect as is the example, we +cannot all, and constantly, use its full perfection, +from our tendency to contemplate it from the +favourite point of view which every one of us has. +One of us dwells most on the tenderness of his character; +another on its righteous sternness; one on +his power; another on his meek patience; and so +on. And thus, while it is, and ever will be, of the +utmost importance that we should preserve the +aim of becoming like Christ, it yet remains to be +settled among us, in fact though not perhaps in +words, what Christ was, the images of him in +different minds varying so endlessly as they certainly +do.</p> + +<p>The only method that appears to me absolutely +safe and wise, is one which perfectly well agrees +with our taking this great Exemplar as our model. +Each of us has a frame, "fearfully and wonder<span class="pagenum">[Pg 19]</span>fully +made;" with such a variety of powers, that +no one yet knows them all, or can be sure that he +understands the extent of any one of them. It is +impossible that we can be wrong in desiring and +endeavouring to bring out and strengthen and +exercise all the powers given to every human +being. In my opinion, this should be the aim of +education.</p> + +<p>I have said "to bring out, and strengthen, and +exercise all the powers." Some would add, "and +balance them." But if all were faithfully exercised, +I am of opinion that a better balance would +ensue than we could secure, so partial as are our +views, and so imperfect as has been the training +of the best of us.</p> + +<p>I shall gladly proceed, in my next chapter, to +declare what I think we have learned as to what +the powers of the human being are. At present, +I can only just point out that the aim proposed +is superior to every other mentioned, and I believe +to any other that can be mentioned for this +reason; that it applies universally—meets every +case that can be conceived of. In the patriarch's +scheme of education, the women—half the race—were +slighted. In the Spartan system, the slaves +and all work-people were left out. Among the +modern republicans, citizens have the preference +over women and slaves: and under the savage +training—the Indian, Arab, and Mongolian—no +individual whatever is done justice to. And there<span class="pagenum">[Pg 20]</span> +is not a country in Christendom where equal +justice is done to all those whom we see entering +the world so endowed as that we ought to look +on every one of them with religious awe as a being +too noble for our estimate. The aim proposed—of +doing justice to all the powers of every human +being under training—includes all alike, and must +therefore be just. It includes women, the poor, +the infirm—all who were rejected or slighted +under former systems—while it does more for the +privileged than any lower principle ever proposed +to do. It appears that under it none will be the +worse, but all the better, in comparison of this +with any lower aim.</p> + +<p>To obtain a clearer and firmer notion of what +this object really comprehends, we must next make +out, as well as our present knowledge allows, what +the powers of the human being are. I mean as to +their kind; for I do not think any one will venture +to say what is the extent of endowments so vast; +and in their vastness so obscure.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 21]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_21" name="Page_21"></a>CHAPTER III.<br /> +<br /> +THE NATURAL POSSESSIONS OF MAN.</h2> + + +<p>What are the powers of the human being?</p> + +<p>I speak of those powers only which are the object +of education. There are some which work of +themselves for the preservation of life, and with +which we have nothing to do but to let them work +freely. The heart beats, the stomach digests, the +lungs play, the skin transpires, without any care +of ours, and we have only to avoid hindering any +of these actions.</p> + +<p>Next, man has four limbs. Of these, two have +to be trained to move him from place to place in +a great variety of ways. There are many degrees +of agility between the bow-legged cripple, set too +early upon his feet, and the chamois hunter of +the Alps, who leaps the icy chasms of the glacier, +and springs from point to point of the rock. The +two seem hardly to be of the same race; yet education +has made each of them what he is.</p> + +<p>The two other limbs depend upon training for +much of their strength and use. Look at the pale +student, who lives shut up in his study, never +having been trained to use his arms and hands +but for dressing and feeding himself, turning over<span class="pagenum">[Pg 22]</span> +books, and guiding the pen. Look at his spindles +of arms and his thin fingers, and compare them +with the brawny limbs of the blacksmith, or the +hands of the quay porter, whose grasp is like that +of a piece of strong machinery. Compare the +feeble and awkward touch of the book-worm who +can hardly button his waistcoat, or carry his cup +of tea to his mouth, with the power that the modeller, +the ivory carver, and the watchmaker have +over their fingers. It is education which has made +the difference between these.</p> + +<p>Man has five senses. Though much is done by +the incidents of daily life to exercise all the five, +still a vast difference ensues upon varieties of +training. A fireman in London, and an Indian +in the prairie, can smell smoke when nobody else +is aware of it. An epicure can taste a cork in +wine, or a spice in a stew, to the dismay of the +butler, and the delight of the cook, when every +one else is insensible. One person can feel by the +skin whether the wind is east or west before he +gets out of bed in the morning; while another +has to hold up a handkerchief in the open air, or +look at the weathercock, before he can answer the +question—"How's the wind?"</p> + +<p>As for the two noblest senses, there are great +constitutional differences among men. Some are +naturally short-sighted, and some dull of hearing; +but the differences caused by training are more +frequent and striking. If, of two boys born with<span class="pagenum">[Pg 23]</span> +equally good eyes and ears, one is very early put, +all alone, to keep sheep on a hill side, where he +never speaks or is spoken to, and comes home only +to sleep, and the other works with his father at +joiner's work, or in sea-fishing, or at a water-mill, +they will, at manhood, hardly appear to belong to +the same race. While the one can tell veneer from +mahogany in passing a shop-window, the other +cannot see any difference between one stranger's +face and another's. While the sleepy clown cannot +distinguish sea from land half a mile off, the +fisherman can see the greyest sail of the smallest +sloop among the billows on the horizon. While +the shepherd does not hear himself called till the +shout is in his ear, the miller tells by the fireside, +by the run of the water, whether the stream is +deepening or threatening to go dry. Of course, +the quickness or slowness of the mind has much +to do with these differences of eye and ear; but +besides that, the eye and ear differ according to +training. The miller, with his mind and ear all +awake, would hear, with all his efforts, only four +or five birds' notes in a wood, where a naturalist +would hear twenty; and the fisherman might +declare the wide air to be vacant, when a mountain +sportsman would see an eagle, like a minute +speck, indicating by its mode of flight where the +game lay below.</p> + +<p>Man has a capacity for pleasure and pain.</p> + +<p>This is an all-important part of his nature of<span class="pagenum">[Pg 24]</span> +which we can give no account, because it is incomprehensible. +How he feels pleasure and pain, and +why one sensation or thought delights him and +another makes him miserable, nobody ever knew +yet, or perhaps ever will know. It is enough for +us that the fact is so. Of all the solemn considerations +involved in the great work of education, +none is so awful as this—the right exercise and +training of the sense of pleasure and pain. The +man who feels most pleasure in putting brandy +into his stomach, or in any other way gratifying +his nerves of sensation, is a mere beast. One +whose chief pleasure is in the exercise of the limbs, +and who plays without any exercise of the mind, +is a more harmless sort of animal, like the lamb +in the field, or the swallow skimming over meadow +or pool. He whose delight is to represent nature +by painting, or to build edifices by some beautiful +idea, or to echo feelings in music, is of an immeasurably +higher order. Higher still is he +who is charmed by thought, above everything—whose +understanding gives him more satisfaction +than any other power he has. Higher still is he +who is never so happy as when he is making other +people happy—when he is relieving pain, and +giving pleasure to two, or three, or more people +about him. Higher yet is he whose chief joy it is +to labour at great and eternal thoughts, in which +lies bound up the happiness of a whole nation and +perhaps a whole world, at a future time when he<span class="pagenum">[Pg 25]</span> +will be mouldering in his grave. Any man who +is capable of this joy, and at the same time of +spreading comfort and pleasure among the few +who live round about him, is the noblest human +being we can conceive of. He is also the happiest. +It is true that his capacity for pain is exercised +and enlarged, as well as his power of feeling +pleasure. But what pains such a man is the vice, +and folly, and misery of his fellow-men; and he +knows that these must melt away hereafter in the +light of the great ideas which he perceives to be +in store for them: while his pleasure being in the +faith of a better future is as vivid and as sure as +great thoughts are clear and eternal. For an +illustration of this noblest means of happiness, we +had better look to the highest instance of all. I +have always thought that we are apt to dwell too +much on the suffering and sorrow of the lot and +mind of Christ. Our reverence and sympathy +should be more with his abounding joy. I think +those who read with clear eyes and an open mind +will see evidences of an unutterable joy in his +words—may almost think they hear it in his tones, +when he promised heaven to the disinterested and +earth to the meek, and satisfaction to the earnest; +when he welcomed the faith of the centurion, and +the hope of the penitent, and the charity of the +widow; when he foresaw the incoming of the +Gentiles, and knew that heaven and earth should +pass away sooner than his words of life and truth.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 26]</span> +The sufferings of the holy can never surely transcend +their peace: and whose fulness of joy can +compare with theirs?</p> + +<p>Before man can feel pleasure or pain from outward +objects or from thoughts, he must perceive +them. To a new-born infant, or a blind person +enabled to see for the first time, objects before the +eyes can hardly be said to exist. The blue sky +and a green tree beside a white house are not seen +but as a blotch of colours which touches the eye. +This is the account given by persons couched for +cataract, who have never before seen a ray of light. +They see as if they saw not. But the power is in +them. By degrees they receive the images, and +perceive the objects. A child learns to receive +sounds separately; then to perceive one voice +among others; then to distinguish one tone from +another—the voice of soothing from that of playfulness—the +tone of warning from that of approbation; +then it receives thoughts through the +sounds; and so on, till the power is exercised to +the fullest extent that we know of—when distinct +ideas are admitted from the minutest appearances +or leadings—strange bodies detected in the heavens, +and fresh truths in the loftiest regions of human +speculation. It depends much on training whether +objects and thoughts remain for life indistinct and +confused before the perceptive power, as before +infant vision, or whether all is clear and vivid as +before a keen and practised eye.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 27]</span></p> + +<p>We know not how Memory acts, any more than +we understand how we feel pleasure and pain. +But we all know how the power of recalling images, +words, thoughts, and feelings, depends on exercise. +A person whose power of memory has been neglected +has little use of his past life. The time, +and people, and events that have passed by have +left him little better than they found him: while +every day, every person, and every incident deposits +some wealth of knowledge with him whose memory +can receive and retain his experience.</p> + +<p>Then there are other powers which it will be +enough merely to mention here, as we shall have +to consider them more fully hereafter. Man has +the power, after perceiving objects and thoughts, +to compare them, and see when they differ and +agree; to penetrate their nature, and understand +their purpose and action. It is thus that he +obtains a knowledge of creation, and the curious +powers, whether hidden or open to view, which +are for ever at work in it.</p> + +<p>He can reason from what he knows to what he +has reason to suppose, and put his idea to the +proof. He can imitate what he sees; and also +the idea in his mind; and hence comes invention; +and that wise kind of guess into what is possible +which leads to great discovery; discovery sometimes +of a vast continent, sometimes of a vast +agency in nature for men's uses, sometimes of a vast +truth which may prove a greater acquisition to men's<span class="pagenum">[Pg 28]</span> +souls than a new hemisphere for their habitation.</p> + +<p>Man has also a wonderful power of conceiving +of things about which he cannot reason. We do +not know how it is, but the more we dwell on +what is beautiful and striking, what is true before +our eyes and impressive to our minds, the more +able we become to conceive of things more beautiful, +striking, and noble, which have never existed, +but might well be true. None of our powers +require more earnest and careful exercise than +this grand one of the Imagination. Those in +whom it is suppressed can never be capable of +heroic acts, of lofty wisdom, of the purest happiness. +Those in whom it is neglected may exercise +the little power they have in a fruitless direction, +probably aggravating their own faults, and certainly +wasting the power on ideas too low for it, +as the voluptuary who dreams of selfish pleasure, +or the despot, grand or petty, who makes visions +of unchecked tyranny. Those in whom it is +healthily exercised will become as elevated and +expanded as their nature admits, and one here +and there proves a Mahommed, lifting up half the +human race into a higher condition; or a Raffaelle, +bringing down seraphs and cherubs from heaven, +and so clothing them as that men may look upon +them and grow like them; or a Shakspere who +became a creator in that way which is truly no +impiety, but, on the contrary, the highest worship. +Men are apt, in all times and everywhere, to<span class="pagenum">[Pg 29]</span> +blaspheme, by attributing to God their own evil +passions and narrow ideas. It is through this +power of the Imagination that they rise to that +highest ideal which is the truest piety. They +rise to share godlike attributes; the prophet seeing +"the things that are not as though they were," +and the poet creating beings that live and move +and have their being, immortal in the mind of +man. Such a power resides more or less in every +infant that lies in the bosom of every family. Alas +for its guardians if they quench this power, or turn +it into a curse and disease by foul feeding!</p> + +<p>Then, the Emotions of men are so many powers, +to be recognised and trained. Of the power of +Hope there is no need to speak, for all see what +it is as a stimulus, both in particular acts, and +through the whole course of a life. Fear is hardly +less important, though it is intended to die out, +or rather to pass into other and higher kinds of +feeling. A child who has never known a sensation +of fear (if there be such an one) can never be a +man of a high order. He must either be coarsely +made in body, or unable to conceive of anything +but what is familiar to him. A child whose heart +beats at shadows and the fitful sounds of the +invisible wind, and who hides his face on his +mother's bosom when the stars seem to be looking +at him as they roll, is no philosopher at present; +but he is likely to grow into one if this fear is duly +trained into awe, humility, thoughtfulness, till,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 30]</span> +united with knowledge, it becomes contemplation, +and grows into that glorious courage which searches +all through creation for ultimate truth. Out of +Fear, too, grows our power of Pity. Without fear +of pain, we could not enter into the pain of others. +Fear must be lost in reverence and love: but +reverence and love could never be so powerful as +they ought to be, if they were not first vivified by +the power of Fear.</p> + +<p>What the power of Love is, in all its forms, +there is no need to declare to any one who has an +eye and a heart. In the form of Pity, how it led +Howard to spend his life in loathsome prisons, +crowded with yet more loathsome guilt! In other +forms, how it sustains the unwearied mother +watching through long nights over her wailing +infant! How it makes of a father, rough perhaps +to all others, a holy and tender guardian of his +pure daughters! and how it makes ministering +angels of them to him in turn! How we see it, +everywhere in the world, making the feeble and +otherwise scantily-endowed strong in self-denial, +cheerful to endure, fearless to die! A mighty +power surely is that which, breathing from the +soul of an individual man, can "conquer Death, +and triumph over Time."</p> + +<p>Then there is in man a force by which he can +win and conquer his way through all opposition of +circumstance, and the same force in others. This +power of Will is the greatest force on earth—the<span class="pagenum">[Pg 31]</span> +most important to the individual, and the most +influential over the whole race. A strong Will +turned to evil lets hell loose upon the world. A +strong Will wholly occupied with good might do +more than we can tell to bring down Heaven into +the midst of us. If among all the homes of our +land, there be one infant in whom this force is +discerned working strongly, and if that infant be +under such guardianship as to have its will brought +to bear on things that are pure, holy, and lovely, +to that being we may look as to a regenerator of +his race. He may be anywhere where there are +children. Are there any parents who will not +look reverently into the awful nature of their +children, search into their endowments, and try +of every one of them whether it may not be he? +If not he, it is certain that every one of them is a +being too mysterious, too richly gifted, and too +noble in faculties not to be welcomed and cherished +as a heaven-sent stranger. How can we too carefully +set in order the home in which it is to dwell?<span class="pagenum">[Pg 32]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_32" name="Page_32"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br /> +<br /> +HOW TO EXPECT.</h2> + + +<p>Whatever method parents may choose for +educating a child, they must have some idea in +their minds of what they would have him turn +out. Even if they set before them the highest +aim of all—exercising and training all his powers—still +they must have some thoughts and wishes, +some hopes and fears, as to what the issue will +prove to be.</p> + +<p>In all states of society, the generality of parents +have wished that their children should turn out +such as the opinion of their own time and country +should approve. There is a law of opinion in +every society as to what people should be. We +have seen something of what this opinion was +among the Patriarchs of old, the Spartans, the +Jews, and others. In our own day, we find wide +differences among neighbouring nations, civilised, +and so-called, christianised. The French have a +greater value for kindness and cheerfulness of +temper and manners than the English, and a less +value for truth. The Russians have a greater +value for social order and obedience, and less for +honesty. The Americans have a greater value for<span class="pagenum">[Pg 33]</span> +activity of mind and pursuits, and less for peace +and comfort. In these and all other countries, +parents in general will naturally desire that their +children should turn out that which is taken for +granted to be most valuable.</p> + +<p>An ordinary English parent of our time, who +had not given much thought to the subject, would +wish that his son should turn out as follows. He +would wish that the child should be docile and +obedient, clever enough to make teaching him an +easy matter, and to afford promise of his being a +distinguished man; truthful, affectionate, and +spirited; that as a man he should be upright and +amiable, sufficiently religious to preserve his tranquillity +of mind and integrity of conduct: steady +in his business and prudent in his marriage, so +far as to be prosperous in his affairs.</p> + +<p>Now, this looks all very well to a careless eye: +but it will not satisfy a thoughtful mind. In all +the ages and societies we have spoken of, there +have been a few men wiser than the average, who +have seen that the human being might and ought +to be something better than the law of Opinion +required that he should be. There are certainly +Hindoos now living and meditating who do not +consider that men are so good as they might be, +while they think no harm of lying and stealing, +and who are sorry for the superstition which makes +it an unpardonable crime to hurt a cow. There +are men among the Americans who see virtue in<span class="pagenum">[Pg 34]</span> +repose of mind, and moderation of desires to +which the majority of their countrymen are insensible. +And so it is in our country. We are all +agreed, from end to end of society, that Truthfulness, +Integrity, Courage, Purity, Industry, Benevolence, +and a spirit of Reverence for sacred things +are inexpressibly desirable and excellent. But +when it comes to the question of the degree of +these good things which it is desirable to attain, +we find the difference between the opinion of the +many and that of the higher few. A being who +had these qualities in the highest degree could not +get on in our existing society without coming into +conflict with our law of Opinion at almost every +step. If he were perfectly truthful, he must say +and do things in the course of his business which +would make him wondered at and disliked; he +might be unable to take an oath, or enter into any +sort of vow, or sell his goods prosperously, or +keep on good terms with bad neighbours. If +he were perfectly honourable and generous, he +might find it impossible to trade or labour on the +competitive principle, and might thus find himself +helpless and despised among a busy and wealth-gathering +society. If he were perfectly courageous, +he might find himself spurned for cowardice in +declining to go to war or fight a duel. If he were +perfectly pure, he might find himself rebuked and +pitied for avoiding a mercenary marriage, and +entering upon one which brings with it no advan<span class="pagenum">[Pg 35]</span>tage +of connexion or money. If the same purity +should lead him to see that though the virtue of +chastity cannot be overrated, it has, for low purposes, +been made so prominent as to interfere with +others quite as important: if he should see how +thus a large proportion of the girlhood of England +is plunged into sin and shame, and then excluded +from all justice and mercy; if, seeing this, he is +just and merciful to the fallen, it is probable that +his own respectability will be impeached, and that +some stain of impurity will be upon his name. If +he is perfectly industrious, strenuously employing +his various faculties upon important objects, he +will be called an idler in comparison with those +who work in only one narrow track; as an eminent +author of our time was accused by the housemaid, +who was for ever dusting the house, of "wasting his +time a-writing and reading so much." Just so +the majority of men who have one sort of work to +do accuse him of idleness who has more directions +for his industry than they can comprehend. If he +is perfectly benevolent, he cannot hope to be considered +a prudent, orderly, quiet member of society. +He will be either incessantly spreading himself +abroad, and spending himself in the service of all +about him, or maturing in retirement some plan of +rectification which will be troublesome to existing +interests. If he be perfectly reverent in soul, +looking up to the loftiest subjects of human contemplation +with an awe too deep and true to admit<span class="pagenum">[Pg 36]</span> +any mixture of either levity or superstition, he will +probably be called an infidel; or at least, a dangerous +person, for not passively accepting the +sayings of men instead of searching out the truth +by the faithful use of his own powers.</p> + +<p>Thus we see how in our own, as in every other +society, the law of Opinion as to what men should +be agrees in the large, general points of character +with the ideas of the wisest, while there are +great differences in the practical management of +men's lives. The perplexity to many thoughtful +parents is what to wish and aim at.</p> + +<p>Now, it must never be forgotten that it is a good +thing that there must everywhere be such a law of +Opinion on this subject, though it necessarily falls +below the estimate of the wisest. Some rule and +method in the rearing of human beings there must +be; and if some are dwarfed under it, many more +have a better chance than they would have if it +were not a settled matter that truth, courage, benevolence, +&c., are good things. Till the constitution +and training of the human being are better +and more extensively understood than they are, +the general rule is something to go by, as the product +of a general instinct; and it will work upon +nearly all those who are born under it, so as to +bring them into something like order. In our +country, there is, I suppose, scarcely a den so +dark as that its inhabitants really think no harm +whatever of lying and stealing, or consider them<span class="pagenum">[Pg 37]</span> +merits, as is the case in some parts of the world. +While we have among us far too many who thieve +and cheat, and quarrel, and drink, we can scarcely +meet with any who do not think these things +wrong, or have not thought so before they were +too far gone in them. On the whole, the law +of Opinion, though far below what the wise see +it might be, is a great benefit, and a thing worthy +of serious regard in fixing our educational aims.</p> + +<p>This prevalent opinion being a good thing as far +as it goes, having its origin in nature, there can +be no doubt that a good education, having also its +origin in nature, would issue in a sufficient accordance +with it for purposes of social happiness. As +human beings are born with limbs and senses +whose thorough exercise brings them out in a high +state of bodily perfection, they are born with +powers of the brain which, thoroughly exercised, +would, in like manner, bring them out as great, +mentally and morally, as their constitution enables +them to be. There must ever be innumerable +varieties, as no two infants could ever be said to be +born perfectly alike; and perhaps no two adults +could be found who had precisely the same powers +of limb and sense: but out of this infinite variety +must come such an amount of evidence as to what +is best in human character as would constitute a +law of Opinion, higher than the present, but agreeing +with it in its main points. Let us conceive of +a county of England where every inhabitant should<span class="pagenum">[Pg 38]</span> +be not only saved from ignorance, but having every +power of body and mind made the very most of. +The variety would appear much greater than anything +we now see. There would be more people +decidedly musical, or decidedly mechanical, or +decidedly scientific: more who would occupy their +lives with works of benevolence, or of art, or of +ingenuity: more who would speculate boldly, speak +eloquently, and show openly their high opinion of +themselves, or their anxiety for the good opinion +of others. The more variety and the greater +strength of powers, the clearer would be the evidence +before all eyes of what is really the most to +be desired for men. It would come out more +plainly than now that it is a bad and unhappy +thing for men to have immoderate desires for +money, or luxury, or fame, or to have quarrelsome +tendencies, or to be subject to distrust and jealousy +of others, or to be afraid of pain of body or mind. +It would be more plain than ever that there is a +soulfelt charm and nobleness and happiness in a +spirit of reverence, of justice, of charity, of domestic +attachment, and of devotion to truth. Thus, in +such a society, there would be an agreement, +more clear and strong than now, in all the best +points of our present law of Opinion, while there +would be fuller scope for carrying up the highest +qualities of the human being to their perfection.</p> + +<p>Moreover, as men are made every where with a +general likeness of the powers of the mind, as with<span class="pagenum">[Pg 39]</span> +the same number of limbs and senses, there must +come out of a thorough exercise of their faculties +a sufficient agreement as to what is best to generate +a universal idea of duty or moral good. No +varieties of endowment can interfere essentially +with this result. The Hindoo has slender arms, +with soft muscles, and cannot do the hard work +which suits the German peasant: yet both agree +as to what arms are for, and how they are to be +used. The Red Indian can see, hear, smell, and +taste twice as well as factory children or plough-boys; +yet all will agree that it is a good thing to +have perfect sight and hearing. And, in the same +way, the African may have less power of thought +than the Englishman; and the Englishman may +have less genius for music than the African: but +not only is the African able to think, more or +less, and the Englishman to enjoy music, but they +will agree that it is a good thing to have the +highest power of thought, and the greatest genius +for music. In the same manner, again, one race, +as well as one individual, may have more power +of reverence, another of love, another of self-reliance; +but all will agree that all these are inestimably +good.</p> + +<p>It follows from this, that parents must be safe +in aiming at thoroughly exercising and training +all the powers of a child. If it would be safest +for all to do so, in the certainty that the result +would be in accordance with the best points of the<span class="pagenum">[Pg 40]</span> +law of Opinion, it must be a safe practice for individuals; +and they may proceed in the faith that +their work (if they do it well) will turn out a noble +one in the eyes of the men of their own day, while +they are doing their best to help on a clearer and +brighter day, when the law of Opinion will itself +be greatly ennobled.</p> + +<p>Here I must end my chapter. But I must just +say a word to guard against any hasty supposition +that when I speak of exercising (as well as training) +all the human powers thoroughly, I contemplate +any indulgence of strong passions or of evil +inclinations. It cannot be too carefully remembered +that what I am speaking of is human +<span class="smcap">Powers</span> or Faculties; and that every power which +a human being possesses may be exercised to +good, and is actually necessary to make him +perfect.</p> + +<p>It will be my business hereafter to show what +this exercise and training should be.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 41]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_41" name="Page_41"></a>CHAPTER V.<br /> +<br /> +THE GOLDEN MEAN.</h2> + + +<p>It is a large subject that we have to treat;—that +of household education; for the main part +of every process of education is carried on at +home, except in the instance of boarding-schools, +where a few years are spent by a small number of +the youth of our country. The queen was +brought up under a method of household education; +and so was, no doubt, the last pauper who +went to his grave in a workhouse coffin. Elizabeth +Fry was brought up at home; so was the +most ignorant and brutish convict that was +blessed by the saving light of her pitying eye. +Sir Isaac Newton, to whom the starry heavens +were as a home-field for intellectual exercises, +was reared at home; and so were the poor +children in the Durham coal-pits in our own time, +who never heard of God, and indeed could not +tell the names of their own fathers and mothers. +If thus, the loftiest and the lowliest, the purest +and the most criminal, the wisest and the most +ignorant, are comprehended under the process of +household education, what a wide and serious +subject it is that we have to consider!<span class="pagenum">[Pg 42]</span></p> + +<p>The royal child must, of course, be trained +wholly at home; that is, little princes and princesses +cannot be sent to school. But, while +reared in the house with their parents, the +influences they are under scarcely agree with our +ideas of home. The royal infant does not receive +its food from the bosom first, or afterwards from +the hands of its mother. She does not wash and +dress it; and those sweet seasons are lost which +in humbler homes are so rich in caresses and +play, so fruitful in endearing influences both to +mother and child. It is a thing to be remarked +and praised by a whole court, if not a whole +kingdom, if a royal mother is seen with her child +in her arms; while the cottager's child is blessed +with countless embraces between morning and +night, and sleeps on its mother's arm or within +reach of her eye and voice. The best trained +royal child is disciplined to command of temper +and manners; made to do little services for +people about him, and sedulously taught that a +child should be humble and docile. But the +young creature is all the while taught stronger +lessons by circumstances than can ever come +through human lips. He sees that a number of +grown persons about him are almost wholly occupied +with him, and that it is their business in life +to induce him to command his temper and manners. +He feels that when he is bid to fetch and +carry, or to do any other little service, it is not<span class="pagenum">[Pg 43]</span> +because such service is wanted, but for the sake +of the training to himself. He is aware that all +that concerns him every day is a matter of +arrangement, and not of necessity; and a want +of earnestness and of steady purpose is an inevitable +consequence. This want of natural +stimulus goes into his studies. I believe no +solitary child gets on well with book-learning as +a part of the business of every day. The best +tutors, the best books, the quietest school-room, +will not avail, if the child's mind be not stirred +and interested by something more congenial than +the grammar and sums and maps he has to study. +And every royal child is solitary, however many +brothers and sisters he may have older and +younger than himself. He has his own servants, +his own tutor, his own separate place and people, +so that he can never be jostled among other +children, or lead the true life of childhood. And +so proceeds the education of life for him. He +can never live amidst a large class of equals, with +whom he can measure his powers, and from among +whom he may select congenial friends. He passes +his life in the presence of servants, has no occupations +and no objects actually appointed to him, +unless his state be that of sovereignty, in which +case his position is more unfavourable still. He +dies at last in the midst of that habitual solitude +which disables him from conceiving, even at such +a moment, of the state in which "rich and poor<span class="pagenum">[Pg 44]</span> +lie down together." Such a being may, if the +utmost has been done for him, be decent in his +habits, amiable in temper and manners, innocent +in his pursuits, and religious in his feelings; but +it is inconceivable that he can ever approach to +our idea of a perfect man, with an intellect fully +exercised, affections thoroughly disciplined, and +every faculty educated by those influences which +arise only from equal intercourse with men at +large.</p> + +<p>The home education of the pauper child is no +better, though there are few who would venture +to say how much worse it is. A pauper child +must (I think we may say) be unfortunate in its +parentage, in one way or another. If it knows +its parents, they must probably be either sickly, +or foolish, or idle, or dissolute; or they would not +be in a state of <i>permanent</i> pauperism. The infant +is reared (if not in the workhouse) in some unwholesome +room or cellar, amidst damp and dirt, +and the noises and sights of vice or folly. He is +badly nursed and fed, and grows up feeble, or in +a state of bodily uneasiness which worries his +temper, and makes his passions excitable. He is +not soothed by the constant tenderness of a +decent mother, who feels it a great duty to make +him as good and happy as she can, and contrives +to find time and thought for that object. He +tumbles in the dust of the road or the mud of the +gutter, snatches food wherever he can get it,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 45]</span> +quarrels with anybody who thwarts him if he be +a bold boy, and sneaks and lies if he be naturally +a coward. He indulges every appetite, as a +matter of course, as it arises; for he has no idea +that he should not. He hates everybody who +interferes with this license, and has the best liking +for those who use the same license with himself. +He knows nothing of any place or people but +those he sees, and never dreams of any world +beyond that of his own eyes. He does not know +what society is, or law, or duty: and therefore, +when he injures society, and comes under the +inflictions of the law for gross violations of duty, +he understands no more of what is done to him +than if he was carried through certain ceremonies +conducted in an unknown tongue. He has some +dim notion of glory in dying boldly before the +eyes of the crowd; so he goes to the gallows in a +mocking mood, as ignorant of the true import of +life and human faculties as the day he was born. +Or, if not laid hold of by the law, he goes on +towards his grave brawling and drinking, or half +asleep in mind, and inert or diseased in body, till +at last he dies as the beast dies.</p> + +<p>Here are the two extremes. The condition +about half way between them appears to me to be +the most favourable, on the whole, for making +the most of a human being, and best fulfilling the +purposes of his life. There are stations above +and below highly favourable to the attainment of<span class="pagenum">[Pg 46]</span> +excellence; but, taking in all considerations, I +think the position of the well-conditioned artisan +the most favourable that society affords, at least, +in our own day.</p> + +<p>There is much good in enlarged book-learning; +in what is commonly called a liberal education. +If united with hard and imperative labour—labour +at once of head and hands—it will help to make +a nobler man than can be made without it: but +a liberal education, enlarged book-learning, ordinarily +leads to only head work, without that labour +of the hands which is the way to much wisdom. +The benefits too are much confined to the individual, +so that the children of the wisest statesman, +or physician, or lawyer are only accidentally, +if at all, the better for his advantages; while +the best circumstances in the lot of the well-conditioned +artisan are the inheritance and the +privilege of his children.</p> + +<p>And again, the labourer may be so placed, in +regard to employment, marriage, and abode, as +that he may, possessing an awakened mind, be +for ever learning great and interesting things from +the book of Nature and of Scripture, while he has +comfort in his home, and some leisure for training +his children to his own work, and whatever else +may turn up, so that they may grow up intelligent, +dutiful, affectionate, and able continually to +improve. The surgeon, the manufacturer, and +the shop-keeper on the one hand, and the street<span class="pagenum">[Pg 47]</span> +porter, the operative, and the labourer on the +other, may well work out the true purposes of +life; but the condition which appears to me to be +the meeting point of the greatest number of good +influences is that of the best order of artisans.</p> + +<p>That condition affords the meeting point of +book-knowledge, and that which is derived from +personal experience. Every day's labour of hand +and eye is a page opened in the best of books—the +universe. When duly done, this lesson +leaves time for the other method of instruction, +by books. During the day hours, the earnest pupil +learns of Nature by the lessons she gives in the +melting fire, the rushing water, the unseen wind, +the plastic metal or clay, the variegated wood or +marble, the delicate cotton, silk, or wool; and at +evening he learns of men—of the wise and genial +men who have delivered the best parts of their +minds in books, and made of them a sort of ethereal +vehicle, in which they can come at a call to +visit any secret mind which desires communion +with them. And this privilege of double instruction +is one which extends to the whole household +of the chief pupil. The children of the artisan +are happily appointed, without room for doubt, to +toil like their father; and there is every probability +that they will share his opportunity and his +respect for book-knowledge. At the outset of life, +they are tended by their mother, owing directly +to her their food and clothes, their lullaby and<span class="pagenum">[Pg 48]</span> +their incitement to play. During the day, they +are under her eye; and in the evening, they sit +on their father's knee, and get knowledge or fun +from him. In their busy home, all the help is +needed that every one can give; so the real business +of life begins early, and with it the most +natural and best discipline. The children learn +that it is an honour to be useful, and a comfort +and blessing to be neat and industrious. So +much more energy is naturally put into what +must be done than into what it is merely expedient +should be done, that the children are likely +to exert their once-roused faculties to much better +purpose than if their business was appointed to +them for their own educational benefit. The +little girl who tends the baby, or helps granny, or +makes father's shirt, or learns to cook the dinner, +is likely to put more mind into her work than if +she were set to mark a sampler or make a doll's +frock for the sake of learning to sew. And so +with the boy who carries the coals for his mother, +or helps his father in the workshop: he will +become manly earlier and more naturally than +the highborn child who sees no higher sanction +for his occupations than the authority of his +parents. And how dearly prized are the opportunities +for book-study which can be secured! +The children see what a privilege and recreation +reading is to their father; and they grow up +with a reverence and love for that great resource.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 49]</span> +The hope and expectation carry them through the +tedious work of the alphabet and pothooks. And +as they grow up, they are admitted to the magnificent +privilege of fireside intercourse with the +holy Milton, and the glorious Shakspeare, and +many a sage whose best thoughts may become +their ideas of every day. They thus obtain that +activity and enlargement of mind which render +all employments and all events educational. The +powers, once roused and set to work, find occupation +and material in every event of life. Everything +serves—the daily handicraft, intercourse +with the neighbours, rumours from the world +without, homely duty, books, worship, the face of +the country, or the action of the town. All these +incitements, all this material, are offered to the +thoughtful artisan more fully and impartially than +to such below and above him as are hedged in by +ignorance or by aristocratic seclusion: and therein +is his condition better than theirs. After having +come to this conclusion, it is no small satisfaction +to remember that the most favoured classes are +the most numerous. So great a multitude is +included in the middle classes, compared with the +highborn and the degraded, that if they who have +the best chance for wisdom will but use their +privilege, the highest hopes for society are the +most reasonable.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 50]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_50" name="Page_50"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br /> +<br /> +THE NEW COMER.</h2> + + +<p>We may be perverse in our notions, and mistaken +in our ways; but there are some great +natural blessings which we cannot refuse. I +reckon it a great natural blessing that the main +events of human life are common to all, and that +it is out of the power of man to spoil the privilege +and pleasure of them. Birth, love, and death, +are beyond the reach of man's perverseness. They +come differently to the wise and the foolish, the +wicked and the pure: but they come alike to the +rich and the poor. The infant finds as warm a +bosom in which to nestle in the cottage as in the +mansion. The bride and bridegroom know the +bliss of being all the world to each other as well +in their Sunday walk in the fields as in the park +of a royal castle. And when the mourners stand +within the enclosure where "rich and poor lie down +together," death is the same sad and sweet mystery +to all the children of mortality, whether they be +elsewhere the lowly or the proud.</p> + +<p>It may be said that the coming of the infant is +not the same event to all, because some very poor +people are heard to speak of it as a misfortune,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 51]</span> +and if the child dies, to rejoice that the Lord has +taken it to himself. It is true that some parents +are heard to speak in this way; but I believe +that the difference here is not between rich and +poor, but between the wise and the foolish,—the +trusting and the faithless. I have a right to +believe this as long as I see that the hardest-working +mother can be as tender and as cheerful +as any other, and that the poorest man can be +as conscientious a father as the richest. If the +parents have been guilty of no fault towards their +unborn child; if the child be the offspring of +healthful and virtuous parents; and if they are +calmly resolved to do all in their power for its +good,—to earn its bread, to cherish its health, to +open its mind, to nourish its soul, they have as +good a right to rejoice in the prospect of its birth +as anybody in the world. If they steadily purpose +to do their full duty by their child, they may rely +upon it that all the powers of nature will help +them;—that in a world wrapped round with sweet +air, and blessed by sunshine, and abounding with +knowledge, the human being can hardly fail of +the best ends of life, if set fairly forth on his +way by those who are all to him in his helpless +years. A doubt of this may be pardoned in +parents too hard driven by adversity, who have +lost heart, and think that to be poor is to be +miserable: but the doubt is not reasonable or +religious; and it is likely to be fatal to the child.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 52]</span> +I need not consider it further: for I write for +those who have a high purpose and a high hope +in rearing children. Those who despond are unfit +for the charge, and are not likely to enter into +any consultation about it.</p> + +<p>To all who have this high purpose and hope, +how interesting and how holy is this expectation +of the birth of a human being! The mother is +happy, and can wait. The father thinks the time +long till he can take his infant in his arms, and +lavish his love upon it. If there are already children, +they are or should be made, happy by some +promise of the new blessing to come. A serious +hope it should be made to them, however joyful: +a hope to be spoken of only in private seasons of +confidence, when parents and children speak to +each other of what they feel most deeply,—by the +bedsides of the little ones at night, or in the +quietest time of the Sunday holiday. A serious +hope it should be to all parties; for they should +bring into the consideration the duties of labour +and self-denial which lie before them, and the +seasons of anxiety which they must undergo. +Before the parents lie sleepless nights, after days +of hard work,—hours and hours of that weary +suffering which arises from the wailing of a sick +infant: and before the entire household the duty +of those self-restraints which are ever due from +the stronger to the weaker. Amidst the anticipated +joys of an infant's presence, these things are +not to be forgotten.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 53]</span></p> + +<p>When the child is born, what an event is it in +the education of the whole household! According +to the use made of it is it a pure blessing, or a +cause of pain and sin to some concerned. If it +be the first child, there is danger lest it be too +engrossing to the young mother. I believe it +happens oftener than anybody knows, that the +first conjugal discontents follow on the birth of +the first child. The young mother trusts too +much to her husband's interest in her new treasure +being equal to her own;—a thing which the +constitution of man's nature, and the arrangements +of his business, render impossible. He will +love his infant dearly, and sacrifice much for it if +he remains, as he ought, his wife's first object. +But if she neglects his comfort to indulge in fondling +her infant, she is doing wrong to both. If +her husband no longer finds, on his return from +his business, a clean and quiet fireside, and a wife +eager to welcome him, but a litter of baby-things, +and a wife too busy up-stairs to come down, or too +much engaged with her infant to talk with him +and make him comfortable, there is a mischief +done which can never be repaired.</p> + +<p>And if this infant be not the first, there is +another person to be no less carefully considered,—the +next youngest. I was early struck by hearing +the mother of a large family say, that her pet +was always the youngest but one; it was so hard +to cease to be the baby! Little children are as<span class="pagenum">[Pg 54]</span> +jealous of affection as the most enraptured lover; +and they are too young to have learned to control +their passions, and to be reasonable. A more +miserable being can hardly exist than a little +creature who, having been accustomed to the tenderness +always lavished on the baby,—having +spent almost its whole life in its mother's arms, +and been the first to be greeted on its father's +entrance, finds itself bid to sit on its little stool, +or turned over to the maid, or to rough brothers +and sisters to be taken care of, while everybody +gathers round the baby, to admire and love it. +Angry and jealous feelings may grow into dreadful +passions in that little breast, if great care be not +taken to smooth over the rough passage from +babyhood to childhood. If the mother would +have this child love and not hate the baby, if she +would have peace and not tempest reign in the +little heart, she will be very watchful. She will +have her eye on the little creature, and call it +to help her to take care of the baby. She will +keep it at her knee, and show it, with many a +tender kiss between, how to make baby smile, +how to warm baby's feet; will let it taste whether +baby's food be nice, and then peep into the cradle, +to see whether baby be asleep. And when baby is +asleep, the mother will open her arms to the little +helper, and fondle it as of old, and let it be all in +all to her, as it used to be. This is a great piece +of education to them both, and a lesson in justice +to all who stand by.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 55]</span></p> + +<p>The addition of a child to the family circle is +an event too solemn to be deformed by any falsehood. +But few parents have the courage to be +truthful with their children as to how the infant +comes; a question which their natural curiosity +always prompts. The deceptions usually practised +are altogether to be reprobated. It is an +abominable practice to tell children that the +doctor brought the baby, and the like. It is +abominable as a lie: and it is worse than useless. +Any intelligent child will go on to ask,—or if not +to ask, to ponder with excited imagination,—where +the doctor found it, and so on; and its +attention will be piqued, and its mind injuriously +set to work, where a few serious words of simple +but carefully expressed truth, would have satisfied +it entirely. The child must, sooner or later, +awaken to an understanding of the subject; and +it is no more difficult to impress him with a sense +of decency about this, than about other things, +that a well trained child never speaks of, but to +its mother in private. The natural question once +truthfully answered, the little mind is at rest, +and free for the much stronger interests which +are passing before its eyes.</p> + +<p>The first month of an infant's life is usually a +season of great moral enjoyment to the household. +Everybody is disposed to bear and to do +everything cheerfully for the sake of the new +blessing. The father does not mind the dis<span class="pagenum">[Pg 56]</span>comforts +of the time of his wife's absence from +the table and the fireside, and makes himself by +turns the nurse and the playfellow, to carry the +children well through it. If Granny be there, +and not able to do much in the house, she +gathers the little ones about her chair, and tells +them longer stories than ever before, to keep +them quiet. The children try with all their +might to be quiet; and even the little two-year-old +one struggles not to cry for company when +baby cries, and learns a lesson in self-restraint. +They look with respect on the maid or the nurse +when they find that she has been up in the night, +tending mother and baby, and that she looks as +cheerful in the morning as if she had had good +rest. And when they are permitted to study the +baby, and to see how it jerks its little limbs +about, and does not see anything they want it to +see, and takes no notice of anything they say to +it; and when they hear that their great strong +father, so wise and so clever about his business, +was once just such a helpless little creature as +this, they learn to reverence this feeble infant, +and one another, and themselves, and their hearts +are very full of feelings which they cannot speak. +I well remember that the strongest feelings I +ever entertained towards any human being were +towards a sister born when I was nine years old. +I doubt whether any event in my life ever exerted +so strong an educational influence over me as her<span class="pagenum">[Pg 57]</span> +birth. The emotions excited in me were overwhelming +for above two years; and I recal them +as vividly as ever now when I see her with a child +of her own in her arms. I threw myself on my +knees many times in a day, to thank God that he +permitted me to see the growth of a human being +from the beginning. I leaped from my bed gaily +every morning as this thought beamed upon me +with the morning light. I learnt all my lessons +without missing a word for many months, that I +might be worthy to watch her in the nursery +during my play-hours. I used to sit on a stool +opposite to her as she was asleep, with a Bible on +my knees, trying to make out how a creature like +this might rise "from strength to strength," till +it became like Christ. My great pain was, (and +it was truly at times a despair,) to think what a +work lay before this thoughtless little being. I +could not see how she was to learn to walk with +such soft and pretty limbs: but the talking was +the despair. I fancied that she would have to +learn every word separately, as I learned my +French vocabulary; and I looked at the big +Johnson's Dictionary till I could not bear to +think about it. If I, at nine years old, found it +so hard to learn through a small book like that +Vocabulary, what would it be to her to begin at +two years old such a big one as that! Many a +time I feared that she never could possibly learn +to speak. And when I thought of all the trees<span class="pagenum">[Pg 58]</span> +and plants, and all the stars, and all the human +faces she must learn, to say nothing of lessons,—I +was dreadfully oppressed, and almost wished +she had never been born. Then followed the +relief of finding that walking came of itself—step +by step; and then, that talking came of itself—word +by word at first, and then many new words +in a day. Never did I feel a relief like this, when +the dread of this mighty task was changed into +amusement at her funny use of words, and droll +mistakes about them. This taught me the lesson, +never since forgotten, that a way always lies open +before us, for all that it is necessary for us to do, +however impossible and terrible it may appear +beforehand. I felt that if an infant could learn +to speak, nothing is to be despaired of from +human powers, exerted according to Nature's laws. +Then followed the anguish of her childish illnesses—the +misery of her wailing after vaccination, +when I could neither bear to stay in the nursery +nor to keep away from her; and the terror of the +back-stairs, and of her falls, when she found her +feet; and the joy of her glee when she first knew +the sunshine, and the flowers, and the opening +spring; and the shame if she did anything rude, +and the glory when she did anything right and +sweet. The early life of that child was to me a +long course of intense emotions which, I am +certain, have constituted the most important part +of my education. I speak openly of them here,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 59]</span> +because I am bound to tell the best I know about +Household Education; and on that, as on most +subjects, the best we have to tell is our own +experience. And I tell it the more readily because +I am certain that my parents had scarcely any +idea of the passions and emotions that were +working within me, through my own unconsciousness +of them at the time, and the natural +modesty which makes children conceal the +strongest and deepest of their feelings: and it +may be well to give parents a hint that more is +passing in the hearts of their children, on occasion +of the gift of a new soul to the family circle, +than the ingenuous mind can recognise for itself, +or knows how to confide.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 60]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_60" name="Page_60"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br /> +<br /> +CARE OF THE FRAME.</h2> + + +<p>We have seen something of the influence of the +infant upon others: now let us see what others +can do for it.</p> + +<p>Here is a little creature containing within itself +the germs of all those powers which have before +been described; but with all these powers in so +feeble a state that months and years of nourishing +and cherishing under the influences of Nature are +necessary to give it the use of its own powers. +What its parents can do for it, and all that they +can do for it, is to take care that it has the full +advantage of the influences of Nature. This is +their task. They cannot get beyond it, and they +ought not to fall short of it.</p> + +<p>Nature requires and provides that the tender +frame should be nourished with food, air, warmth +and light, sleep and exercise. All these being +given to it, the soft bones will grow hard, the +weak muscles will grow firm; the eye will become +strong to see, and the ear to hear, and the different +portions of the brain to feel, and apprehend, and +think; and to form purposes, and to cause action, +till the helpless infant becomes a self-acting child,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 61]</span> +and is on the way to become a rational man. What +the parents have to do is to take care that the babe +has the best of food, air, warmth, and light, sleep +and exercise.</p> + +<p>First, of food. About this there is no possible +doubt. The mother's milk is the best of food. +What the mother has to look to is that her milk +is of the best. She must preserve her own health +by wholesome diet, air, and exercise, and by +keeping a gentle and cheerful temper. Many a +babe has had convulsions after being suckled by a +nurse who had had a great fright, or had been in +a great passion: and a mother who has an irritable +or anxious temper, who flushes or trembles +with anger, or has her heart in her throat from +fear of this or that, will not find her child thrive +upon her milk, but will have much to suffer from +its illness or its fretfulness. She must try, however +busy she may be, to give it its food pretty +regularly, that its stomach may not be overloaded +nor long empty or craving. An infant does not +refuse food when it has had enough, as grown +people can do. It will stop crying and suck, when +its crying is from some other cause than hunger: +and it will afterwards cry all the more if an overloaded +stomach is added to the other evil, whatever +it may be. Of the contrary mischief—leaving +a babe too long hungry—there is no need to say +anything. And when the weaning time comes, it +is plain that the food should be at first as like as<span class="pagenum">[Pg 62]</span> +possible to that which is given up; thin, smooth, +moderately warm, fresh, and sweet, and given as +leisurely as the mother's milk is drawn. It is well +known that milk contains, more curiously than +any other article of food, whatever is necessary +for nourishing all the parts of the human body. +It contains that which goes to form and strengthen +the bones, and that which goes to make and enrich +the blood—thereby causing the soft bones of the +babe to grow stiff and strong, and its heart to beat +healthily, and its lungs to play vigorously, and its +muscles to thicken and become firm. While all +this is going on well, and the child shows no need +of other food, there is nothing but mischief to be +looked for from giving it a variety for which it is +not prepared. Milk, flour and water are its natural +food while it has no teeth to eat meat with, and +vegetables turn sour on its stomach. As for giving +it a bit or sip of what grown persons are eating +and drinking—that is a practice too ignorant to +need to be mentioned here.</p> + +<p>Next comes air. Here, as usual, we have to +consult Nature. There is an ingredient in the air +which is as necessary to support human breathing +as to feed the flame of a candle. Where there is +too little of it, the flame of a candle burns dim; +and where it is not freely supplied to a human +frame, it languishes, and pines and sickens. A +constant supply of pure air there must therefore +be. If the house is close, if the room is too long<span class="pagenum">[Pg 63]</span> +shut up, with people in it who are using up that +ingredient of the air, they will all, and especially +the babe, languish and pine and sicken. Every +morning, therefore, and during the day, there +must be plenty of fresh air let in to replace that +which has been spoiled by breathing; and in fine +weather, the babe should be carried into the open +air every day. But Nature also points out that +we must avoid extremes in giving the child air, +as well as food. We see sometimes how a babe +grows black in the face if carried with its face to +the wind, or whisked down stairs in a draught. +Its lungs are small and tender, like the rest of it, +and can bear even fresh air only when moderately +given. By a little care in turning its face away +from the wind, or lightly covering its head, a child +may be saved from being half strangled by a breeze +out of doors; while care will, of course, be taken +within doors to keep it out of the direct draught +from door or window.</p> + +<p>As for light—we do not yet know so much as +we ought about the relation between light and the +human frame. I believe some curious secrets +remain to be discovered about that. But we do +know this much—that people who live in dark +places, prisoners in dungeons, and very poor people +in cellars, and savages in caves who do not go +abroad much, are not only less healthy than others, +but have peculiar diseases which are distinctly +traceable to deficiency of light. My own conviction<span class="pagenum">[Pg 64]</span> +is that we grown people can hardly have too +much light in our houses; and that we are, somehow +or other, alive almost in proportion to the +sunshine we live in. But we must observe, at the +same time, the difference which Nature makes +between the infant and adults. The infant's eyes +are weak, and its brain tender; so that, while there +is plenty of light about its body, we must take care +that there is not too much directly before its eyes. +If held opposite a strong sunshine, it will squint +if it does not cry, or by some means show that the +light is too much for its tender brain.</p> + +<p>As to warmth—everybody knows that a babe +cannot have that constant warmth which is kept +up in older persons by constant activity. Its little +feet require frequent warm handling; and its lips +often look blue when everybody else in the room +is warm enough. By gentle chafing and warming +it must be kept comfortable during the day, +without being shut up in a hot room, or scorched +before the fire. As for the night—its warmth +should be secured by sufficient clothing, in a little +bed of its own, as early as possible, rather than +by lying with its mother, which is far too common +a practice. It may be necessary, in extremely cold +weather, to take the child into bed for warmth; +but even then, the mother should not sleep till +she has put it back, warm and well covered, into +its own bed. I need say nothing of the horror +we feel when, every now and then, we hear of a<span class="pagenum">[Pg 65]</span> +miserable mother whose child has been overlaid. +That accident happens oftener than many people +know of. But, besides that danger, the practice is +a bad one. The child breathes air already breathed; +it soaks in the perspiration of its mother. If its +state is healthful, its natural sleep will keep it +warm, supposing its bedding to be sufficient; while +it is likely to be too hot, and not to breathe healthfully, +if laid close by another person. In all seasons, +its clothing should be loose enough to allow of a +free play of its limbs, and of all the movements +within its body—the beating of the heart, the +heaving of the lungs, and the rolling of the bowels, +to go on quite naturally. By careful management, +an infant may be kept in a state of natural +warmth, night and day, through winter and summer; +as every sensible mother knows.</p> + +<p>The little frame must be exercised. Every +human function depends on exercise for its growth +and perfection. A person who lives almost in the +dark has little use of his eyes when he comes into +the light; an arm hung in a sling becomes weak, +and at last useless; a talent for arithmetic or +music becomes feebler continually from disuse. +To make the most therefore of the frame of a +human being, it must be exercised—some of its +powers from the beginning, and all in their natural +order. We must take care, however, to observe +what this natural order is, or, judging by our +present selves, we may attempt too much. We<span class="pagenum">[Pg 66]</span> +must remember that the infant has to begin from +the beginning, and that its primary organs—the +heart, lungs, and brain—have to become accustomed +to moderate exercise before anything further +should be attempted. At first, it is quite +enough for the infant to be taken up and laid +down, washed and dressed, and carried about a +little on the arm. When the proper time comes, +it will kick and crow, and reach and handle, and +look and listen. Its very crying, if only what is +natural to express its wants, is a good exercise +of those parts intended to be used afterwards in +speaking and making childish noises. Poor Laura +Bridgman, the American girl, who early lost both +eyes and the inner parts of the ears, and cannot +hear, see, smell, or taste, and whose mind is yet +developed by means of the sense of touch, said a +thing (said it by finger language) which appears +to me very touching and very instructive. Not +being able to speak, she was formerly apt to use +the organs of speech in making odd noises, disagreeable +to people about her. When told of this, +and encouraged to try to be silent, she asked—"Why, +then, has God given me so much voice?" +Her guardians took the hint, and gave her a place +to play in for some time every day, where she can +make as much noise as she likes—hearing none of +it herself, but enjoying the exercise to her organs +of sound. What Laura does now, an infant does +by squalling, and children do by shouting and<span class="pagenum">[Pg 67]</span> +vociferating at their play. Their parents, it must +be remembered, are talking for many hours while +they are asleep.</p> + +<p>Other exercises follow in their natural course—the +rolling and tumbling about on a thickly wadded +quilt on the floor (saving the busy mother's time, +while teaching the child the use of its limbs)—feeling +its feet on the lap, and learning to step, +scrambling up and down by the leg of the table, +pulling and throwing things about, imitating +sounds, till speech is attained—these are the exercises +which nature directs, and under which the +powers grow till the mother can see in her plaything +the sailor who may one day rock at the +mast-head, or the stout labourer who may trench +the soil, or the gardener who will name a thousand +plants at a glance, or the teacher who will bring +out and train a hundred human intellects. What +she has to look to is that the powers of her child +are all remembered and considered, and exercised +only in due degree and natural order.</p> + +<p>After exercise comes sleep. If all else go well, +this will too. If the child digest well, be warm, +sufficiently fatigued and not too much—in short, +if it be comfortable in body, it will sleep at proper +times. One of the earliest pieces of education—of +training—is to induce a babe to sleep regularly, +and without the coaxing which consumes so much +of the mother's time, and encourages so much +waywardness on the part of the child. If a healthy<span class="pagenum">[Pg 68]</span> +child be early accustomed to a bed of its own, and +if it is laid down at a sleepy moment, while the +room is quiet, it will soon get into a habit of +sleeping when laid down regularly, in warmth and +stillness, after being well washed and satisfied with +food. The process is natural; and it would happen +easily enough if our ways did not interfere with +Nature. By a little care, a child may be attended +to in the night without fully awakening it. By +watching for its stirring, veiling the light, being +silent and quick, the little creature may be on its +pillow again without having quite waked up—to +its own and its mother's great advantage.</p> + +<p>Cleanliness is the removal of all that is unwholesome. +Nature has made health dependent upon +this, in the case of human beings of every age: +and the more eminently, the younger they are. +One great condition of an infant's welfare is the +removal of all discharges whatever, by careful +cleansing of the delicate skin in every crease and +corner, every day; and of all clothing as soon as +soiled. The perpetual washing of an infant's bibs, +&c., is a great trouble to a busy mother; but less +than to have the child ill from the smell of a sour +pinafore, or from wet underclothes, or from a cap +that holds the perspiration of a week's nights and +days. It is a thing which must be done—the +keeping all pure and sweet about the body of the +little creature that cannot help itself; and its look +of welfare amply repays the trouble all the while.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 69]</span></p> + +<p>Such are the offices to be rendered to the new-born +infant. They consist in allowing Nature +scope for her higher offices. By their faithful discharge, +the human being is prepared to become in +due season all that he is made capable of being—which +may prove to be something higher than we +are at present aware of.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 70]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_70" name="Page_70"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br /> +<br /> +CARE OF THE POWERS:—WILL.</h2> + + +<p>While the bodily powers of the infant are +nourished and preserved by observing Nature, as +pointed out in the last chapter, the powers of the +mind are growing from day to day. When an +infant has once been pleased with the glitter of +the sun upon the brass warming-pan, or with the +sound of a rattle, it will kick and shake its little +arms, and look eager, the next time it sees the +rattle and the warming-pan. And having once +remembered, it will remember more every day. +Every day it will give signs of Hope and Desire. +Will shows itself very early. Fear has to be +guarded against, and Love to be cherished, from +the first days that mind appears. It is the highest +possible privilege to the child if the parents know +how to exercise its power of Conscience soon +enough, so as to make it sweet and natural to +the young creature to do right from its earliest +days. Let us see how these things may be.</p> + +<p>How strong is the Will of even a very young +infant! How the little creature, if let alone, will +labour and strive after anything it has set its +mind upon! How it cries and struggles to get<span class="pagenum">[Pg 71]</span> +the moon; and tumbles about the floor, as soon as +it can sprawl, to accomplish any wish! And, if +ill-trained, how pertinaciously it will refuse to do +anything it ought! How completely may the wills +of a whole party of grown people be set at nought +by the self-will of a baby whose powers are allowed +to run riot! It is exceedingly easy to mismanage +such cases, as we all see every day: but it is also +very easy to render this early power of Will a +great blessing.</p> + +<p>The commonest mistake is to indulge the child's +self-will, as the easiest course at the moment. +Immediate peace and quiet are sought by giving +the child whatever it clamours for, and letting it +do whatever it likes in its own way. We need +not waste words on this tremendous mistake. +Everybody knows what a spoiled child is; and +nobody pretends to stand up for the method of +its education. I think quite as ill of the opposite +mistake—of the method which goes by the name +of breaking the child's will; a method adopted by +some really conscientious parents because they +think religion requires it. When I was in +America, I knew a gentleman who thought it +his first duty to break the wills of his children; +and he set about it zealously and early. He was +a clergyman, and the President of an University: +the study of his life had been the nature and +training of the human mind: and the following +is the way he chose—misled by a false and cruel<span class="pagenum">[Pg 72]</span> +religion of Fear—to subdue and destroy the great +faculty of Will. An infant of (I think) about +eleven months old was to be weaned. A piece of +bread was offered to the babe; and the babe +turned away from it. Its father said that it was +necessary to break down the rebellious will of +every child for once; that if done early enough, +once would suffice; and that it would be right +and kind to take this early occasion in the instance +of this child. The child was therefore to be +compelled to eat the bread. A dressmaker in +the house saw the process go on through the +whole day; and became so dreadfully interested +that she could not go away at night till the matter +was finished. Of course, the bit of bread became +more and more the subject of disgust, and then of +terror to the infant, the more it was forced upon +its attention. Hours of crying, shrieking and +moaning were followed by its being shut up in a +closet. It was brought out by candlelight—stretched +helpless across the nurse's arms, its +voice lost, its eyes sunk and staring, its muscles +shrunk, its appearance that of a dying child. It +was now near midnight. The bit of bread was +thrust into the powerless hand; no resistance was +offered by the unconscious sufferer; and the +victory over the evil powers of the flesh and the +devil was declared to be gained. The dressmaker +went home, bursting with grief and indignation, +and told the story: and when the President went<span class="pagenum">[Pg 73]</span> +abroad the next morning, he found the red brick +walls of the university covered with chalk portraits +of himself holding up a bit of bread before his +babe. The affair made so much noise that he +was, after some time, compelled to publish a justification +of himself. This justification amounted +to what was well understood throughout; that he +conscientiously believed it his duty to take an +early opportunity to break the child's will, for its +own sake. There remained for his readers the +old wonder where he could find in the book of +Glad Tidings so cruel a contradiction of that law +of love which stands written on every parent's +heart.</p> + +<p>How much easier is the true and natural method +for controlling the young Will! Nature points +out that the true method is to control the Will, +not by another person's Will, but by the other +faculties of the child itself. When the child wills +what is right and innocent, let the faculty work +freely. When it wills what is wrong and hurtful, +appeal to other faculties, and let this one sleep; +excite the child's attention; engage its memory, +or its hope, or its affection. If the infant is bent +on having something that it ought not, put the +forbidden object out of sight, and amuse the child +with something else. Avoid both indulgence and +opposition, and a habit of docility will be formed +by the time the child becomes capable of deliberate +self-control. This natural method being followed,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 74]</span> +it is curious to see how early the power of self-control +may be attained. I watched one case of +a child endowed with a strong Will who, well +trained, had great power of self-government before +she could speak plain. She was tenderly reared, +and indulged in her wishes whenever they were +reasonable, and cheerfully amused and helped +whenever her desires were disappointed. One +day I had just begun to show her a bright new +red pocket-book full of pictures when she was +called to her dinner. She did not want her +dinner, and begged to see the pocket-book; begged +it once—twice—and was about to beg it a third +time, when I ventured to put to the proof her +power of self-denial. I put the case before her as +it appeared to me, fairly saying that I could not +show her the pocket-book till five in the afternoon. +Showing her what I thought the right of the +matter, I asked her whether she would now go to +her dinner. She stood, with the pocket-book in +her hand, for some seconds in deep thought; then +looked up at me with a bright face, said graciously +"I will;" put the gay plaything into my lap, and +ran off to her dinner. The looking forward till +five o'clock and the pleasure of that hour fixed the +effort in her mind, and made the next easier. It is +clear that a child early subject to oppression and +opposition in matters of the Will could not arrive +thus betimes and naturally at self-government +like this, but must have many perverse and painful<span class="pagenum">[Pg 75]</span> +feelings to struggle with, in addition to the necessary +conflict with himself.</p> + +<p>A parent who duly appreciates the great work +that every human being has to do in attaining +self-government, will assist the process from the +very first, by the two great means in his power—by +the aid of Habit, and of a government of love +instead of fear. It is really due to the feebleness +of a child to give it the aid and support of habit +in what it has to do and avoid. By regularity in +the acts of its little life, in its sleeping and feeding, +and walking and times of play, a world of conflict +and wilfulness is avoided, and the will is quietly +trained, day by day, to submission to circumstances; +life goes on with the least possible wear +and tear; and a continually strengthening power +is obtained over all the faculties. Among the +children entering upon school life, and men and +women upon any sphere of duty whatever, a great +difference as to efficiency will be found between +those who always have to bring their Will to bear +expressly on the business of the time, unaided by +habit, and those whose lives and powers have been, +as one may say, economised by their having lived +under that discipline of time and circumstance +which is the gentle and natural education of the +human Will. It is true, this mechanical kind of +discipline can never be more than auxiliary. It +can never stand in the place of the deep internal +principle by which alone the mightiest movements<span class="pagenum">[Pg 76]</span> +of the human will are actuated. It can only +husband a man's powers for his ordinary duties, +and not of itself prepare him for the great crises +of life. It can only aid him in his everyday course, +and not strengthen him, when the agonising hour +comes, to surrender love, and hope, and peace, at +the call of duty, or to encounter outrage and death +for truth's sake. But we are now considering the +education of the infant man; man at that stage +when our chief concern is with whatever is auxiliary +to that great aim of perfection which lies far +in the future.</p> + +<p>Above all things it is important that the parental +administration should be one of love and not of +fear. There can be no healthful growth of the +Will under the restraints of fear. The fact is, +the Will is not trained at all in any frightened +person.</p> + +<p>The actions may be conformed to the Will of +the tyrant; but the Will is running riot in secret +all the time—unless, indeed, it be entirely crushed. +But how vigorously it grows under a government +of love! Look at the difference between a slave-owner, +whose people are driven by the lash, and +an employer whose people are ready to live and +die for him: how languidly and shabbily is the +work done in the first case, and how heartily and +efficiently in the last! And it is with the young +child as with the grown man. A child who lives +in the fear of punishment has half its faculties<span class="pagenum">[Pg 77]</span> +absorbed by that fear, and becomes a feeble little +creature, incapable of governing itself; while a +mere babe who is cheered and led on in its good +efforts by smiles of love and tones of tenderness +becomes strong to govern its passions, and to brush +away its tears; and patient to bear pain; and +brave to overcome difficulty; becomes blessed, in +short, with a healthful and virtuous Will. I know +nothing more touching than the efforts of self-government +of which little children are capable, +when the best parts of their nature are growing +vigorously under the light and warmth of parental +love. Mrs. Wesley might pride herself on so +breaking the wills of her children by fear as that +the youngest in arms learned immediately "to cry +softly;" but there was every danger that the +early cowed Will would sooner or later start up in +desperate rebellion, and claim a freedom which +it would be wholly unable to manage. How much +safer, and how infinitely more beautiful is the self-control +of the little creature who stifles his sobs of +pain because his mother's pitying eye is upon him +in tender sorrow! or that of the babe who abstains +from play, and sits quietly on the floor because +somebody is ill; or that of a little hero who will +ask for physic if he feels himself ill, or for punishment +if he knows himself wrong, out of confidence +in the tender justice of the rule under which he +lives! I have known a very young child slip over +to the cold side of the bed on a winter's night, that<span class="pagenum">[Pg 78]</span> +a grown-up sister might find a warm one. I have +known a boy in petticoats offer his precious new +humming-top to a beggar child. I have known a +little girl submit spontaneously to hours of irksome +restraint and disagreeable employment merely because +it was right. Such Wills as these—so strong +and yet so humble, so patient and so dignified—were +never impaired by fear, but flourished thus +under the influence of love, with its sweet incitements +and holy supports.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 79]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_79" name="Page_79"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br /> +<br /> +CARE OF THE POWERS:—HOPE.</h2> + + +<p>We have seen what power of Will a child has. +But the Will itself is put in action by Hope and +Fear.</p> + +<p>What is stronger in an infant than its capacity +for Hope and Fear? In its earliest and most +unconscious stages of emotion, how its little limbs +quiver, and its countenance lights up at the +prospect of its food! and how it turns away its +face, or wrinkles it up into a cry, at the sight of a +strange countenance, or unusual appearance of +dress or place! And what stronger hint can a +parent have than this to look forward to what +this hope and fear may grow to?</p> + +<p>This great power of Hope must determine the +leading features of the character of the man or +woman; determine them for good or evil according +to the training of the power from this day +forward. Shall the man continue a child, or sink +into the brute by his objects of hope continuing +to be what they are now—food or drink? Shall +his frame be always put into commotion by the +prospect of pleasant bodily sensations from eating +and drinking, and other animal gratifications?<span class="pagenum">[Pg 80]</span> +Or, when the child arrives at hoping for his +mother's smile and his father's praise, shall he +stop there, and live for admiration; admiration of +his person and dress, his activity, or his cleverness? +Shall the gratification of his vanity be the chief +interest of his life? Or shall it be ambition? +Shall his perpetual hope be of a higher sort of +praise—praise from so large a number as shall +give him power over other men, and cause his +name to be known beyond his connexions, and +his native place, and his country and his age? +All this is very low and very small; too little for +the requirements of his nature, too little for the +peace of his mind and the happiness of his heart. +Shall not rather this faculty of hope be nourished +up into Faith?—faith which includes at once the +fulness of virtuous power and the peace which +the world can neither give nor take away. A +being in whom the early faculty of Hope has been +matured into a steady power of Faith is of the +highest and happiest order of men, because the +objects of his hope are unchanging and ever-lasting, +and they keep all his best powers in +strenuous action and in full health and strength. +When the mother sees her infant in an ecstacy +of hope, first at the food making ready for him, +and next at the gay flower within his reach, and +afterwards at the flattery of visitors, she should +remember that here is the faculty which may +hereafter lead and sustain him through days of<span class="pagenum">[Pg 81]</span> +hunger and nights of watching, or years of toilsome +obscurity, or scenes of the unthinking +world's scorn, calm and peaceful in the furtherance +of the truth of God and the welfare of Man. +And if her tender heart shrinks from the anticipation +of privation and contempt such as have too +often hitherto attended a life of faith, let her +remember that in the midst of the most prosperous +life there can be no peace but in proportion +to the power of faith; and that therefore in +training up this faculty of Hope to its highest +exercise she is providing most substantially for his +happiness, be his lot otherwise what it may.</p> + +<p>How is this faculty to be trained?—</p> + +<p>First, it must be cherished. Some well-meaning +parents repress and even extinguish it, from the +notion that this is the way to teach humility and +self-denial. The consequence is that they break +the mainspring of action in the child's mind, and +everything comes to a stand. It is difficult to +weaken the power of hope in a human being, and +harder still to break it down; but when the thing +is done, what sadder spectacle can be seen? Of +all moving sights of woe, the most mournful is +that of a hopeless child. A single glance at its +listless limbs, its dull eye, its languid movements, +shows the mischief that has been done. The +child is utterly unreliable; a mere burden upon +the world. He has no truth, no love, no industry, +no intellectual power in him; and if he has any<span class="pagenum">[Pg 82]</span> +conscience, it is the mere remains,—enough to +trouble him, without doing him any good. This +is an extreme case, and I trust a rare one. But +cases of repressed hope are much more common +than they should be. There are too many +children who are baulked of their mother's sympathy +because she is busy or fretful, or of their +father's, because he is stern. Too many little +hearts are made to swell in silence because they +cannot get justice, or to burn under the suspicion +that their aspirations are despised. After this, +what can they do? At best, they carry their +confidence elsewhere, and make their chief interests +away from home: and it is too probable that +they will give up their plans and aspirations, and +sink down to lower hopes. A boy who aspires to +discover the North Pole, or to write a book which +will teach the world something greater than it +ever knew before, will presently sink down to be +greedy after lollypops: and a girl who means to +try whether a woman cannot be as good as Jesus +Christ, may presently be discouraged down to the +point of reckoning on Sunday because she is to +have a new ribbon on her bonnet. In the case of +every human being, Hope is to be cherished from +first to last; not the hope of the particular thing +that the child has set its mind on, unless the +thing itself be good; but the hopeful mood of +mind. The busiest mother can have nothing to +do so important as satisfying her child's heart by a<span class="pagenum">[Pg 83]</span> +word or look of sympathy: and the most anxious +father can have nothing so grave to occupy him +as the peril he puts his child into by plunging +him into undeserved fear and disappointment.</p> + +<p>Hope is to be cherished without ceasing. But +the objects of hope must first be varied and then +exalted, that the faculty may be led on from +strength to strength, till it is able to fix its aims +for itself. To the hope of good eating and drinking +must succeed that of clutching gay colours, of +hearing mother sing, of having play with father +when he comes home; then of having a kitten or +a doll to take care of; then of parents' praise for +lessons or other work well done; then of self-satisfaction +for bad habits cured: then there may +be a great spring forward to thoughts of glory;—the +glory of being a great sailor, or magistrate, or +author, or martyr: and at length, the hope of +doing great things for the good of mankind, and +of becoming a perfect man. As for times and +opportunities of cherishing and exalting hope—every +hour is the right time, and every day affords +the opportunity. What is needed, is that the +parents should have the aim fixed in their hearts; +and then their minds, and that of the child, will +work towards it as by an instinct. By natural +impulse the mother's hand will bring the gay +flower, and the kitten or the doll before the child's +notice, if it becomes greedy about its food. By +natural impulse she will sing its favourite song, or<span class="pagenum">[Pg 84]</span> +beg play for it of its father after some little +virtuous effort of the child's; in natural course, +all things in human life, great and small, will present +themselves in their heroic aspect to the minds +of the parents, and be thus represented to the +mind of the child, if once the idea of the future +man be firmly associated with that of moral nobleness. +If they have in them faith enough steadily +to desire for him this moral nobleness above all +things, there can be no fear but that their aspiration +will communicate itself to him; and his +faculty of Hope will ripen into a power of Faith.</p> + +<p>I have said nothing of a hope of reward as +among the objects of childhood. This is because +I think rewards and punishments seldom or never +necessary in household education, while they certainly +bring great mischief after them. In some +cases of bad habit, and in a very early stage of +education, they may be desirable, here and there; +but as a system, I think rewards and punishments +bad. In the case of a very young child who has +fallen into a habit of crying at bedtime, or at any +particular time of day, or in that of a thoughtless, +untidy child, where the object is to impress its +memory, or to establish a strong association with +time or place, it may be useful to connect some +expectation of pain or pleasure with particular +seasons or acts, so as to make the infant remember +the occasion for self-government, and rouse its +will to do right; but this should be only where<span class="pagenum">[Pg 85]</span> +the association of selfish pleasure or pain is likely +to die out with the bad habit, and never where +such selfish pleasure or pain can be associated +with great permanent ideas and moral feelings. +A careless child may be allowed to earn a reward +for punctuality at meals, and for putting playthings +and dress in their proper place when done +with, and for personal neatness, during a specified +time; and perhaps for the diligent learning of +irksome tasks: and there may be some punishment, +declared and agreed upon before hand, and +steadily inflicted, for any disagreeable personal +habit, or any other external instance of habitual +thoughtlessness. But the greater moral aims of +the parent are too sacred to be mixed up with the +direct personal interests of the child. A child +will hardly be nobly truthful who dreads being +whipped for a lie; and benevolence will be spoiled +in its young beginnings, if any pleasure beyond +itself is looked for in its early exercise. A child +who has broken a plate, or gone astray for pleasure +when sent on an errand, must want confidence +in his parents, and be more or less cowardly +if he denies the offence; and he will not have +more truth or courage on the next occasion for +being whipped now. What he needs is to be +made wiser about the blessedness of truth and the +horrors of falsehood, and more brave about the +pain of rebuke: and the whipping will not make +him either the one or the other. I remember<span class="pagenum">[Pg 86]</span> +being fond of a book in my childhood which yet +revolted me in one part. It told of the children +of a great family in France, who heard of the +poverty of a woman about to lie in, and who +bought and made clothes for herself and her infant. +Their mother and grandmother made a sort of +festival of the giving of these clothes. The children +rode in procession on asses, carrying their +gifts. One tied her bundle with blue ribbon, +and another with pink; and the whole village +came out to see, when they alighted at the poor +woman's door. I used to blush with indignation +over this story; indignation on the poor woman's +account, that her pauperism was so exposed; and +on that of the children, that they were not allowed +the pure pleasure of helping a neighbour, without +being applauded at home and by a whole village +for what it gave them nothing but satisfaction to +do. I am strongly of opinion that when we duly +understand and estimate man, there will be no +reward or punishment at all; that human beings +will be so trained as to find their pleasure and +pain in the gratification or the abuse of their own +highest faculties; and that in those days (however +far off they may be) there will be no treadwheels, +no hulks, no gibbets; and no prize-giving, except +for feats of skill or activity. And meantime, I feel +perfectly sure that children under home-training +may be led to find such gratification in the exercise +of their higher intellectual and moral faculties,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 87]</span> +as to feel the abuse of them more painful than +any punishment, and their action more pleasurable +than any reward. When we read of a Christian +in the early ages who was brought into the amphitheatre, +and given the choice whether he would +declare Jupiter to be the supreme God, and enjoy +life and comfort, or avow himself a Christian, and +be torn to pieces by wild beasts the next minute, +we feel that he <i>could not</i> say he believed Jupiter +to be God. Well: convince any child as fully as +this of the truth, and of his absolute need of +fidelity to it, and he can no more endure lapse +from it than the Christian could endure to declare +Jupiter to be God. As the inveterate drunkard +must gratify his propensity to drink, at the cost +of any amount of personal and domestic misery; +and as the miser must go on adding to his stores +of gold, even though he starves himself into disease +and death, so the upright man must satisfy +his conscience through every extremity; and no +penalty can deter the benevolent man from devoting +all he has to give—his money, his time, +and his life—to the relief of suffering. On such +as these—the upright and the devoted—every +appeal to their lower faculties is lost; and as for +their hope and fear—they have passed into something +higher. With them "perfect love has cast +out fear;" and hope has grown up into Faith; +and this faith being to them "the substance of +things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen,"<span class="pagenum">[Pg 88]</span> +it must be more to them than any of the passing +pains and pleasures of life. Exalted as these +beings are, they are of the same make as the +infant on its mother's lap: and each is destined +to derive his highest gratification from the exercise +of the noblest faculties of his nature. If +parents did but understand and constantly remember +this, they would consider well before +they dared to mix up a meaner pleasure and pain +with the greater, while appealing to any of the +higher moral faculties of their children—if indeed +they ventured upon reward and punishment at all.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 89]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_89" name="Page_89"></a>CHAPTER X.<br /> +<br /> +CARE OF THE POWERS CONTINUED:—FEAR.</h2> + + +<p>There is nothing in which children differ more +than in their capacity for Fear. But every child +has it more or less,—or ought to have it: for nothing +can be made of a human being who has never +experienced it. A child who has never known any +kind of fear can have no power of Imagination;—can +feel no wonder, no impulse of life, no awe or +veneration. Such a case probably does not exist, +except in a condition of idiotcy. A child who is +called fearless, and who is congratulated upon this,—who +shows no shyness of strangers, who does +not mind cold water, or falls, or being in the dark, +who runs after animals, and plays with ugly insects, +may yet cower under a starry sky, or tremble at +thunder, or be impressed for life by a mysterious +dream. It is for the parents to watch the degree +and direction of an infant's fear, firmly assured +that whatever be this degree and direction, all +may end well under prudent care.</p> + +<p>The least favourable case is that of the apathetic +child. When it appears indifferent to whatever may +happen to it, and shrinks from nothing, it must be +as incapable of hope and enjoyment as of fear,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 90]</span> +and there must be something amiss in its health,—in +its nervous system; and its health is what must +be looked to first. It must be well nourished and +amused; its perceptive faculties must be exercised, +and every sort of activity must be encouraged. If +this succeeds, and its feelings begin to show themselves, +fear will come with the rest; and then its +education in that respect must begin. But it +must ever be carefully remembered that fear often +puts on the appearance of apathy,—especially in a +proud child. No creature is so intensely reserved +as a proud and timid child: and the cases are few +in which the parents know anything of the agonies +of its little heart, the spasms of its nerves, the soul-sickness +of its days, the horrors of its nights. It +hides its miseries under an appearance of indifference +or obstinacy, till its habitual terror impairs +its health, or drives it into a temper of defiance or +recklessness. I can speak with some certainty of +this, from my own experience. I was as timid a +child as ever was born; yet nobody knew or could +know, the extent of this timidity; for though +abundantly open about everything else, I was as +secret as the grave about this. I had a dream at +four years old which terrified me to such an excess +that I cannot now recal it without a beating of the +heart. I could not look up at the sky on a clear +night; for I felt as if it was only just above the +tree tops, and must crush me. I could not cross +the yard except at a run, from a sort of feeling,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 91]</span> +with no real belief,—that a bear was after me. +The horrors of my nights were inexpressible. The +main terror however was a magic-lantern which +we were treated with once a year, and sometimes +twice. We used to talk of this exhibition as a prodigious +pleasure; and I contrived to reckon on it +as such: but I never saw the white cloth, with its +circle of yellow light, without being in a cold perspiration +from head to foot. One of the pictures +on the slides was always suppressed by my father, +lest it should frighten the little ones;—a dragon's +head, vomiting flames. He little thought that a +girl of thirteen could be terrified by this: but +when I was thirteen,—old enough to be put in +charge of some children who were to see the magic +lantern,—this slide was exhibited by one of my +brothers among the rest. I had found it hard +enough to look and laugh before; and now I +turned so faint that I could not stand, but by +grasping a chair. But for the intensity of my +shame, I should have dropped. Much of the benefit +of instruction was lost to me during all the years +that I had masters: my memory failed me when +they knocked at the door, and I could never ask a +question, or get voice to make a remark. I could +never play to my music master, or sing with a +clear voice but when I was sure nobody could hear +me. Under all this, my health was bad; my behaviour +was dogged and provoking, and my temper +became for a time insufferable. Its improvement<span class="pagenum">[Pg 92]</span> +began from the year when I first obtained some +release from habitual fear. During these critical +years I misled everybody about me by a habit of +concealment on this one subject which I am sure +I should not now have strength for under any inducement +whatever. Because I climbed our apple +tree, and ran along the top of a high wall, and took +great leaps, and was easily won by benevolent +strangers, and because I was never known to hint +or own myself afraid, no one suspected that fear +was at the bottom of the immoveable indifference +and apparently unfeeling obstinacy by which I perplexed +and annoyed everybody about me. I make +these confessions willingly, in the hope that some +inexperienced or busy parent may be awakened +by them to observe whether the seeming apathy of +a child be really from indifference, or the outward +working of some hidden passion of fear.</p> + +<p>Bold children are good and promising subjects; +and it is a delightful thing to a parent's heart to +see an infant fairly trying its powers against difficulties +and obstacles—confronting nature in all +seasons of light and darkness, of sunshine and +tempest, in the face of strangers and friends alike, +free and fearless. It is delightful to think how +much misery and embarrassment he is spared, by +his happy constitution of nerves and brain. But, +while the proud parent sees in him the future discoverer +or sailor, or leader among men, it must be +remembered that in order to become great, in<span class="pagenum">[Pg 93]</span> +order to become truly a man at all, he must learn +and endure much that can be learned and endured +only through fear, and the conquest of it. That +there is some fear in him is certain; and the +parent must silently search it out, and train it up +into that awe and modesty which are necessary to +the high courage of a whole life. No man or +woman can be a faithful servant of Duty, qualified +to live, suffer, and die for it, who has not grown +up in awe of something higher than himself—in +veneration of some powers greater than he can +understand; and this awe and veneration have in +them a large element of fear at the beginning. +What this element is, in each case, the parents +must set themselves to understand. Too many +think it their duty to make a child afraid, if fear +does not seem to come of itself: and too many +do this without thinking it their duty, from the +spirit of opposition being excited in themselves, +from the experience of inconvenient fearlessness +in the child. I have known a tutor avow his practice +of beating a bold boy till he broke two canes +over him, because the boy ought to learn that he +is under a power (a power of arm) greater than +his own, and must, through fear of it, apply himself +to his appointed business. Such inflictions +make a boy reckless, or obstinate, or deceitful. +And I have seen far too many instances of irritable +parents who have tried to manage a high-spirited +child by threats; and, the threats failing,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 94]</span> +by blows, or shutting up in the dark, or hobgoblin +prophecies, which have created no real awe or +obedience, but only defiance, or forced and sullen +submission. This will never do. A tender parent +will never have the heart to breed fear in a child, +knowing that "fear hath torment." A truly loving +parent will know that it would be less unkind to +bruise his child's limbs, or burn its flesh, than to +plant torturing feelings in his mind. The most +effectual way, for all purposes, is to discover the +fear that is already there, in order to relieve him +from it, by changing this weakness into a source of +strength and comfort. What is it—this fear that +lies hidden in him? A boy who is not afraid of +the dark, or of a bull, or of a ghost, may tremble +at the sight of a drunken man, or at the hearing +of an oath. A girl who is not afraid of a spider +or a toad, nor of thieves, nor of climbing ladders, +may tremble at the moaning of the wind in the +chimney, or at a frown from her mother, or at entering +a sick chamber. Whatever be the fear, let +the parents watch, carefully but silently, till they +have found it out: and, having found it out, let +them lead on the child to conquest, both by reason +and by bringing such courage as he has to bear +on the weak point. In any case, whether of a +bold or a timid child, the only completely effectual +training comes from the parents' example. If the +every day life of the parents shows that they dread +nothing but doing wrong, for either themselves or<span class="pagenum">[Pg 95]</span> +their children, the fears of the most timid and of +the boldest will alike take this direction, sooner or +later: and the courage of both will, with more or +less delay, become adequate to bear and do anything +for conscience' sake. If it be the clear rule +and habit of an entire household to dread and detest +only one thing, the fear and dislike of every +mind in the household will become concentred +upon that one thing, and every heart will become +stout to avoid and repel it. And if the one +dreaded thing be sin, it is well; for the courage +of each and all will be perpetually reinforced by +the whole strength of the best faculties of every +mind.</p> + +<p>As for the case of the timid child,—let not the +parent be disheartened, for the noblest courage of +man or woman has often grown out of the excessive +fears of the child. It is true, the little creature +is destined to undergo many a moment of agony, +many an hour of misery, many a day of discouragement; +but all this pain may be more than +compensated for by the attainment of such a freedom +and strength at last as may make it feel as if +it had passed from hell to heaven. Think what it +must be for a being who once scarcely dared to +look round from fear of lights on the ceiling or +shadows on the wall, who started at the patter of +the rain, or the rustle of the birds leaving the +spray, who felt suffocated by the breeze and maddened +by the summer lightning, to pass free, fear<span class="pagenum">[Pg 96]</span>less +and glad through all seasons and their change,—all +climes and their mysteries and dangers;—to +pass exhilarated through raging seas, over +glaring deserts, and among wild forests! Think +what it must be for a creature who once trembled +before a new voice or a grave countenance, and +writhed under a laugh of ridicule, and lied, at the +cost of deep mental agony, to avoid a rebuke,—think +what it must be to such a creature to find +itself at last free and fearless,—enjoying such +calm satisfaction within as to suffer nothing from +the ridicule or the blame of those who do not +know his mind, and so thoroughly acquainted +with the true values of things as to have no dread +of sickness or poverty, or the world's opinion, because +no evil that can befal him can touch his +peace! Think what a noble work it will be to +raise your trembling little one to such a condition +as this, and you will be eager to begin the task at +once, and patient and watchful to continue it from +day to day.</p> + +<p>First, how to begin. The most essential thing +for a timid infant is to have an absolutely unfailing +refuge in its mother. It may seem unnecessary +to say this. It may appear impossible that a +mother's tenderness should ever fail towards a helpless +little creature who has nothing but that tenderness +to look to: but alas! it is not so. I know +a lady who is considered very sweet-tempered, and +who usually is so—kind and hospitable, and fond<span class="pagenum">[Pg 97]</span> +of her children. Her infant under six months old +was lying on her arm one day when the dessert was +on the table; and the child was eager after the +bright glasses and spoons, and more restless than +was convenient. After several attempts to make it +lie quiet, the mother slapped it—slapped it hard. +This was from an emotion of disappointed vanity, +from vexation that the child was not "good" before +visitors. If such a thing could happen, may +we not fear that other mothers may fail in tenderness,—in +the middle of the night, for instance, +after a toilsome day, when kept awake by the +child's restlessness, or amidst the hurry of the day, +when business presses, and the little creature will +not take its sleep? Little do such mothers know +the fatal mischief they do by impairing their child's +security with them. If they did, they would undergo +anything before they would let a harsh word +or a sharp tone escape them, or indulge in a severe +look or a hasty movement. A child's heart responds +to the tones of its mother's voice like a harp +to the wind; and its only hope for peace and courage +is in hearing nothing but gentleness from her, +and experiencing nothing but unremitting love, +whatever may be its troubles elsewhere. Supposing +this to be all right, the mother will feel +herself from the first the depositary of its confidence;—a +confidence as sacred as any other, +though tacit, and about matters which may appear +to all but itself and her infinitely small. Entering<span class="pagenum">[Pg 98]</span> +by sympathy into its fears, she will incessantly +charm them away, till the child becomes open to +reason,—and even afterwards; for the most terrible +fears are precisely those which have nothing +to do with reason. She will bring it acquainted +with every object in the room or house, letting it +handle in merry play everything which could +look mysterious to its fearful eyes, and rendering +it familiar with every household sound. Some of +my worst fears in infancy were from lights and +shadows. The lamp-lighter's torch on a winter's +afternoon, as he ran along the street, used to cast +a gleam, and the shadows of the window frames +on the ceiling; and my blood ran cold at the sight, +every day, even though I was on my father's +knee, or on the rug in the middle of the circle +round the fire. Nothing but compulsion could +make me enter our drawing-room before breakfast +on a summer morning; and if carried there by the +maid, I hid my face in a chair that I might not see +what was dancing on the wall. If the sun shone +(as it did at that time of day,) on the glass lustres +on the mantel-piece, fragments of gay colour were +cast on the wall; and as they danced when the +glass drops were shaken, I thought they were alive,—a +sort of imps. But, as I never told any body +what I felt, these fears could not be met, or charmed +away; and I grew up to an age which I will not +mention before I could look steadily at prismatic +colours dancing on the wall. Suffice it that it was<span class="pagenum">[Pg 99]</span> +long after I had read enough of Optics to have +taught any child how such colours came there. +Many an infant is terrified at the shadow of a perforated +night-lamp, with its round spaces of light. +Many a child lives in perpetual terror of the eyes +of portraits on the walls,—or of some grotesque +shape in the pattern of the paper-hangings. Sometimes +the terror is of the clack of the distant loom, +or of the clink from the tinman's, or of the rumble +of carts under a gateway, or of the creak of a water-wheel, +or the gush of a mill-race. Everything +is or may be terrifying to a timid infant; and it +is therefore a mother's charge to familiarise it +gently and playfully with everything that it can +possibly notice, making sport with all sights, and +inciting it to imitation of all sounds—from the +drone of the pretty bee to the awful cry of the +old clothes-man;—from the twitter of the sparrows +on the roof to the toll of the distant church +bell.</p> + +<p>It is a matter of course that no mother will allow +any ignorant person to have access to her child +who will frighten it with goblin stories, or threats +of the old black man. She might as well throw +up her charge at once, and leave off thinking of +household education altogether, as permit her child +to be exposed to such maddening inhumanity as +this. The instances are not few of idiotcy or death +from terror so caused.</p> + +<p>While thus preventing or scattering fears which<span class="pagenum">[Pg 100]</span> +arise from the imagination, both parents should +be constantly using the little occasions which are +always arising, for exercising their child's courage. +The most timid children have always courage in +one direction or another. While I was trembling +and fainting under magic-lanterns and street cries, +I could have suffered any pain and died any death +without fear, the circumstances being fairly laid +before me. Let the timid child be made hardy +in its play by example and encouragement. Let +it be cheered on to meet necessary pain without +flinching,—the taking out a thorn, or pulling out +a tooth. Let it early hear of real heroic deeds,—hear +them spoken of with all the affectionate +admiration with which we naturally speak of such +acts. If a life is saved from fire or drowning, +let the children hear of it as a joyful fact. Let +them hear how steadily William Tell's little son +stood, for his father to shoot through the apple. +Let them hear how the good man who was on his +way to be burnt for his religion took off his shoes, +and gave them to a barefooted man who came to +stare at him, saying that the poor man wanted the +shoes, but he could do without them now. Let +them hear of the other good man who was burnt +for his religion, and who promised some friends, +in danger of the same fate, that he would clasp his +hands above his head in the midst of the fire, if he +found the pain so bearable that he did not repent, +and who did lift up his arms and join them after<span class="pagenum">[Pg 101]</span> +his hands were consumed,—so giving his friends +on the hill-side comfort and strength. If any +child of your acquaintance does a brave thing, or +bears pain cheerfully, let your children hear of it +as a good and happy thing. Above all, let them +see, as I said before, all their lives long, that <i>you</i> +fear nothing but wrong-doing,—neither tempests +nor comets, nor reports of famine or fever, nor the +tongues of the quarrelsome, nor any other of the +accidents of life,—no pain, in short, but pain of +conscience,—and the same spirit will strengthen +in them. Their fear will follow the direction of +yours; their courage will come in sympathy with +yours; and their minds will fill more and more +with thoughts of hope and heroism which must in +time drive out such remaining terrors as cannot be +met by fact or reason.</p> + +<p>In this fearlessness of yours is included fearlessness +for your children, as well as for yourselves. +While their limbs are soft and feeble, of course +you must be strength and safety to them: but when +they arrive at a free use of their limbs and senses, +let them fully enjoy that free use. We English +are behind almost every nation in the strength +and hardihood of the race of children. In America, +I have seen little boys and girls perched in trees +overhanging fearful precipices, and crawling about +great holes in bridges, while the torrent was +rushing below; and I could not learn that accidents +from such practices were ever heard of. In<span class="pagenum">[Pg 102]</span> +Switzerland I have seen mere infants scrambling +among the rocks after the goats,—themselves as safe +as kids, from the early habit of relying on their own +powers. In Egypt and Nubia I have seen five-year +old boys poppling about like ducks in the rapids of +the Nile, while some, not much older, were not +satisfied with hauling and pushing, as our boat +ascended the cataract, but swam and dived, to +heave off her keel from sunken rocks. Such children +are saved from danger, as much as from fear, +by an early use of all the powers they have: and it +would be a happy thing for many an English child +if its parents were brave enough to encourage it to +try how much it can do with its wonderful little +body. Of this, however, we shall have to say more +under another head.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 103]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_103" name="Page_103"></a>CHAPTER XI.<br /> +<br /> +CARE OF THE POWERS CONTINUED:—PATIENCE.</h2> + + +<p>Some may be surprised to find Patience spoken +of among the Powers of Man. They have been +accustomed to consider it a passive quality, and +not as involving action of the mind. They do not +find it in any catalogue of the organs of the brain, +and have always supposed it a mere negation of +the action of those organs.</p> + +<p>But patience is no negation. It is the vigorous +and sustained action, amidst outward stillness, of +some of the most powerful faculties with which +the human being is endowed; and primarily of +its powers of Firmness and Resistance. The man +who holds up his head, quiet and serene, through +a season of unavoidable poverty or undeserved +disgrace, is exercising his power of Firmness as +vigorously as the general who pursues his warfare +without change of purpose through a long campaign; +and a lame child, strong and spirited, who +sits by cheerfully to see his companions leaping +ditches, is or has been engaged in as keen a combat +with opposing forces as a couple of pugilists. In +the case of the patient, the resolution and resistance +are brought to bear against invisible enemies, +which are the more, and not the less, hard to<span class="pagenum">[Pg 104]</span> +conquer from their assaults being made in silence, +and having to be met in the solitude of the inner +being. The man patient under poverty or disgrace +has to carry on an active interior conflict with his +baffled hope, his grieved domestic affections, his +natural love of ease and enjoyment, his mortified +ambition, his shaken self-esteem, and his yearning +after sympathy. And the lame child among the +leapers has to contend alone with most of these +mortifications, and with his stimulating animal +spirits besides. Nothing can be further from passiveness +than his state in his hour of trial, though +he may sit without moving a muscle. He is +putting down the swellings of his little heart, and +taming his instincts, and rousing his will, and +searching out noble supports among his highest +ideas and best feelings—putting on his invisible +armour as eagerly as any hero whom the trumpet +calls from his rest.</p> + +<p>Patience is no more like passiveness in its +smallest exercises than in these great ones. Look +at the ill-nursed passive infant,—how it hangs over +its mother's shoulder, or slouches on her arm,—its +eye dull, its face still, its movements slow: see +how, when old enough to amuse itself, it sits on +the floor by the hour together, jangling a bunch +of keys, lulling itself with that noise, instead of +making any of its own! Contrast with this the +lively infant beginning to be trained to patience. +It does not cry for its food or toy, as it used to do,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 105]</span> +but its limbs are all active, it fidgets, and it searches +its mother's face for hope and encouragement not +to cry. And when more advanced, how busy is its +little soul while it makes no noise, and postpones +its play for the sake of the baby. If it sits at +watch beside the cradle, how it glances about to +warn away the kitten, or puts its finger on its lips +if the door opens, or watches so intently for baby's +eye-lids to open as to start when it jerks its hand. +If waiting for play till baby has had its meal, how +it stands at its mother's knee, making folds in her +gown,—see-sawing its body perhaps, and fetching +deep sighs, to throw off its impatience, but speaking +no word—making no complaint till baby has +had its dues. And when its turn is come, baby +being laid down, what a spring into the lap, what +a clasp of the neck is there! while the child with +the keys has to be lifted from the floor like a +bag of sand.</p> + +<p>As patience includes strong action of the mind, +the vivacious child has a much better chance of +becoming patient than the passive one;—so far +are passiveness and patience from being alike. +Patience is indeed the natural first step in that +self-government which is essential to the whole +purpose of human life. It is impossible to overrate +the importance of this self-government; and +therefore it is impossible to overrate the importance +of this first step,—the training to patience. +And the vivacious child is happy above the apathetic<span class="pagenum">[Pg 106]</span> +one in being fitted to enter at once upon the +training from the earliest moment that the will is +naturally capable of action.</p> + +<p>And now about this training.</p> + +<p>It must begin before the little creature is capable +of voluntary effort. The mother must take its +little troubles upon herself, and help it all she can, +till the habit of patience is completely formed;—which +will be long. She must not only comfort it +in its restlessness and inability to wait, but beguile +it of its impatience. She must amuse it, and turn +away its attention from its grievance, or its object +of desire,—never yielding what it ought not to +have, and always indulging it where there is no +reason for denial. In time, the infant will learn +that it can wait, and in what cases it must wait; +and from that time, its work of self-control begins. +I have before my mind's eye a little child of sensitive +nerves and strong will who early showed +by her loud impatient cry how she might suffer in +after life, if the habit of patience were not timely +formed. It was timely formed. She died of scarlet +fever before she was four years old; and the self-command +that little creature showed amidst the +restlessness of her fever and the grievous pain of +her sore-throat, was a comfort which will remain +for ever to those who mourn her. It of course +lessened her own suffering, and it cheered the +heart of her wise mother with a joy which lights +up her memory. Here the great condition was<span class="pagenum">[Pg 107]</span> +fulfilled which is essential to the work;—the +parents are themselves patient and consistent. +Self-control can never be taught without example. +From the beginning an infant can perceive +whether the moral atmosphere around it is calm +or stormy, and will naturally become calm or +stormy accordingly. If its mother scolds the servant, +if its father gets into a passion with the elder +children, if there is disturbance of mind because a +meal is delayed,—if voices grow loud and angry in +argument, or there is gloom in the face or manner +of any grown person who has a headache, how is +the infant to learn to wait and be cheerful under +its little troubles?—these little troubles being to +it misfortunes as great as it is at all able to bear.</p> + +<p>I would not cite the old quaker discipline of +families as a pattern of what is to be wished in all +things. There was too often a want of tenderness, +and of freedom and of mirth—such as children, +need, and as are quite compatible with the formation +of a habit of patience: but in that one respect,—of +patience,—how admirable are the examples +that many of us have seen! The cultivation of +serenity being a primary religious duty with the +parents, how the spirit and the habit spread through +the children! Before they could understand that +the grown people about them were waiting for the +guidance of "the Inward Witness," they saw and +felt that the temper was that of humble waiting; +and they too learned to wait. When set up on a<span class="pagenum">[Pg 108]</span> +high stool from which they could not get down, +and bid to sit still without toys for a prescribed +time, how many a restless child learned to subdue +his inward chafing, and to sit still till the hand of +the clock showed that he might ask to come down! +This exercise was a preparation for the silent meeting, +where there would be less to amuse his eyes, +and no one could tell how long he might have to +sit; and how well the majority of quaker children +went through this severer test! Few of us will +approve of this kind of discipline. We think it +bad, because unnatural. We think that the trials +of a child's patience which come of themselves +every day are quite enough for its powers, and, if +rightly used, for its training; but the instance +shows how powerful is the example of the parents +and the habit of the household in training little +children to self-control.</p> + +<p>Yes,—the little occasions of every day are quite +enough: and if they were not, little could be +gained, and much would be lost, by inventing +more. There is tyranny in making a lively child +sit on a high stool with nothing to do, even though +the thing is ordained for its own good; and every +child has a keen sense of tyranny. The patience +taught by such means cannot be thorough. It +cannot be an amiable and cheerful patience, pervading +the whole temper. It is much better to +use those natural occasions which it is clear that +the parent does not create. There is seldom or never<span class="pagenum">[Pg 109]</span> +a day when something does not happen to irritate +a child;—it is hungry, or thirsty, or tired; it gets +a tumble, or dislikes cold water, or wants to be +petted when its mother is busy; or breaks a toy, +or the rain comes when it wants to go out, or +pussy runs away from play, or it has an ache or a +pain somewhere. All these are great misfortunes +for the time to a little child: and if it can learn by +degrees to bear them, first by being beguiled of +them, and then by being helped through them, +and at last by sustaining them alone, there is every +hope that the severe trials of after life will be sustained +with less effort than is required by these +trifles now. A four-year-old child that can turn +away and find amusement for itself when its +mother cannot attend to it,—and swallow its tears +when the rain will not let it sow its garden seeds, +and stifle its sobs when it has knocked its elbow, +and forgive any one who has broken its toy, and +lie still without complaining when it is ill, gives +the fairest promise of being able to bear serenely +the severest calamities of after life. For my own +part, I feel that no spectacle of fortitude in man +or woman is more animating and touching than +what may be seen in little children, who have +seriously entered upon the great work of self-government,—sustained +by wise and tender parental +help. Some time ago, I was in the house +with a little girl of three years old, whose throat +was one day very sore. She tried in vain to get<span class="pagenum">[Pg 110]</span> +down some dinner,—cried, was amused, and went +to sleep. On waking, some of the soft rice-pudding +from our table was tried; but the throat was now +worse, and she cried again. To amuse her, she +was set up at our table in her little chair, between +her mama and me. I saw the desperate efforts +she was making to keep down her sobs: and when +she looked over to her father, and said softly +"I mean to be dood," it was too much for others +besides me. Her tender father helped her well +through it. He told her a long long story about +something he had seen that morning; and as +her large eyes were fixed on his face, the sobs +subsided, and she became absorbed in what he +was telling her. That child was as truly an +object of reverence to us as any patient sufferer +of mature age.</p> + +<p>The finest opportunity for the cultivation of +patience in a household is where there are many +children,—boys and girls,—with no great difference +of years between them. Here, in the first +place, the parents have need of all the faith and +patience they have, to bear hopefully with the +impatience of some of their children. There are +moments, hours, and days, in the best households, +when the conscientious and tender mother feels +her heart rent by the spectacle of the quarrels of +her children. It is a truth which had better be +at once fully admitted, that where there are many +children nearly approaching each other in age,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 111]</span> +their wills must clash, their passions become +excited, and their affections be for the time over-borne. +When a mother sees her children scratch +and strike, when her ear catches the bitter words +of passion between brothers, her heart stands still +with grief and dread. But she must be comforted. +All may be well if she overrules this terrible +necessity as she may. She must remember that +the strength of will thus shown is a great power +for use in the acquisition of patience. She must +remember that the odiousness of passion is not yet +evident to her children, as it is to her. She must +remember how small is the moral comprehension +of a child, and therefore how intense are its +desires, and how strong is the provocation when +those desires are thwarted. She must remember +that time and enlargement of views are what +children want to make them men: and that time +and enlargement are sure to come to these young +creatures, and make men of them, if the parents +do their part. Her part to-day is to separate the +children who cannot agree; to give time and +opportunity for their passions to subside, the +desire of the moment to pass away, and the affections +and the reason to be aroused. She must +obtain their confidence apart, and bring them +together again when they can forgive and agree. +If she finds that such troubles enable her to understand +her children better, and reveal their own +minds to themselves, and if such failures help<span class="pagenum">[Pg 112]</span> +them to a more careful self-rule, the event may +be well worth the pain.</p> + +<p>I have said that there are few or no large +families of children in which quarrelling does not +sometimes occur. But if the quarrelling does not +early cease—if the liability does not pass away +like the diseases of childhood, it is sadly plain +that the fair opportunity of cultivating a habit of +patience has been lost or misused. It must be +early and watchfully used. Every member of the +household must be habituated, constantly and as +a privilege, to wait and forbear for the sake of +others. The father takes the lead—as he ought +to do in all good things. His children see in him, +from year to year, an example of patient toil—patient +and cheerful toil—whether he be statesman, +merchant, farmer, shop-keeper, artizan or +labourer. The mother comes next,—seen to wait +patiently on her sick or helpless infant, and to be +forbearing with servants and children, enduring +in illness and fatigue, and cheerful through everything. +Then come the elder children, who must +have been long and steadily trained, through early +self-control, to wait, not only in tenderness on the +helpless infant, but in forbearance on the weakness +of those younger and frailer than themselves. +Then come those of the middle age, who have to +wait in such patience as they are capable of under +their own personal trials, and the will and pleasure +of their parents and elders. And lastly come the<span class="pagenum">[Pg 113]</span> +little ones, who are likely to have plenty of opportunity +for self-command amidst the business and +chances of a large family, and the variety of influences +ever at work therein. So various a household +is a complete little world to children—the +discipline of which is no small privilege as being +preparatory to that of the larger world upon which +they must enter after their habits of mind are +formed. To the parents the advantage is inestimable +of having this little world, not only under +their eye, so that they may timely see how their +children are likely to fare morally in the great +world of adult life, but under their hand, so that +they can, according to their discretion, adapt its +influences to the needs of their charge.</p> + +<p>Some households,—and not a few—are made a +harsh school, or a sweet home of Patience, by the +presence of some infirmity of body or mind in +some one member. This is a case so frequent, +and the circumstance is so important, that I must +devote my next pages to it.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 114]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_114" name="Page_114"></a>CHAPTER XII.<br /> +<br /> +CARE OF THE POWERS: PATIENCE—INFIRMITY.</h2> + + +<p>Though the great majority of children born into +the world have five senses and four limbs, a full-formed +brain, and a well-formed frame, there are +many thousands in every civilised country that +have not: and so many more thousands are interested +in their lot, that it is, or ought to be, a +subject of wide and deep concern how their case +should be treated, for their own sake, and that of +all connected with them. It is a matter of great +and increasing surprise, when elections of objects +for Blind and Deaf and Dumb Institutions, or a +special census for the purpose occurs, how very +numerous are the Blind and Deaf and Dumb: +and much greater still is the proportion of persons +who, through ill health or accident, lose a limb, +or grow up deformed. And I believe the cases of +total or partial idiotcy are more numerous even +than these. The number of persons thus interested +in the subject of bodily infirmity is very large +indeed; and it would be a great omission in treating +of Household Education, not to speak of what +concerns so many homes.</p> + +<p>The first impulse of a parental heart, on becom<span class="pagenum">[Pg 115]</span>ing +aware of the infirmity of a child, is to lavish +on the sufferer all its tenderness, and thus to strive +to compensate to it for what it must forego and +suffer from its peculiarity. The impulse, being +natural and unselfish, is right; but it is not enough. +It is very far indeed from being all that is due to +a creature whose helplessness gives it a sacred +claim upon its whole race for whatever aid can be +afforded it. If it were good that a mother should +nurse an infirm child through the day, and guard +it all the night:—that she should devote all her +time and all her love, and sacrifice all her pleasures +to it, and minister to its wishes every hour +of its life;—if it were good that she should do all +this, it would not be enough. It is not good, and +it is not enough.</p> + +<p>The true claim of an infirm child, as of every +other child, is to be made the most of. And no +human being was ever yet made the most of by +lavish and unchastened indulgence. Every human +being,—not excepting even the idiot,—has a world +of its own, wherein to act and enjoy: and the +parent's charge is to enable it to act and enjoy in +its own world in the fullest and freest manner +possible.</p> + +<p>Let us take the worst case first:—that of the +idiot.</p> + +<p>It is never the case that a human being has no +faculties at all. A child whose brain did not act +at all, could not live. It could not move, nor<span class="pagenum">[Pg 116]</span> +swallow or digest food, nor see, nor hear, nor +breathe. And it seldom or never happens that it +has not many faculties, though the want, in an +idiot, of what we call Sense makes us too careless +in observing what powers he has, and in making +what we can of them. From the deficiency of +some faculties, and the consequent want of co-operation +and balance among his powers, the idiot +lacks sense, and must therefore be taken care of +all his days, like an infant: but it does not follow +that he can never do and enjoy more than an +infant. On the contrary, we see, oftener than +not, that an idiot has some strong faculties. One +may be shockingly gluttonous and sensual: another +is desperately orderly: another is always singing: +another is wonderful in arithmetic, though nobody +can conceive how he learned: another draws every +thing he sees: another imitates everything he +hears: another is always building clay houses, or +cutting wood or paper into shapes: another can +always tell the time—day or night—even where +there is no clock in the house or within hearing. +One will share everything he has to eat with the +dog, or the cat, or the bird: another caresses his +mother, or brothers and sisters, and follows them +about wherever they go; while another gives no +heed to anybody, but stands out of doors for hours +listening to the wind or the birds, and sits a whole +winter evening watching the blazing fire. One +will not be ruled, and fights everybody who tries<span class="pagenum">[Pg 117]</span> +to control him, while another is in a transport or +an agony, according as his mother looks pleased +or displeased with him. All these tendencies +show that some part or other of the brain is alive +and active: and it is the parent's business, with +this child as with the rest, to make the most that +can be made of his brain.</p> + +<p>As reason cannot be used in his case, there must +be all the more diligence in the use of Habit: and +as he has no reason of his own, that of his family +must be made available to him to the utmost. He +must be made the family charge; and every +member of the household must be admitted into +the council held in his behalf. There is hardly a +child so young but that it can understand the +main points of the special training required, and +the reasons for them. There is hardly a child so +young but that it can understand that John does +not know, as other people do, when to leave off +eating; and that this is why the proper quantity +is set before him, and no more is given: and there +are not a few little ones who will refrain from +asking for more of a good thing at table because +John is to be trained not to ask for more. If the +object is to make John clean and tidy, the youngest +will bear cold water, and the trouble of dressing +cheerfully, that John may see what other people +do, and perhaps learn to imitate them. If John +ever sings, some little one will begin to sing when +John looks dull; and the family will learn as many<span class="pagenum">[Pg 118]</span> +tunes as they can to give him a variety. If he is +fond of arranging things, they will lead him to the +cupboard or the play-room, when it wants putting +in order. When he mopes, they will bring him +the scissors and paper, or the slate and pencil, or +they will empty the box of bricks on the floor, +that the pleasant rattle may tempt him to come +and build. If, happily, the time should arrive +when John may learn to do something useful, +every one takes pride in it. At worst, he may +perhaps be trained to work the mangle, or to turn +the wheel at the rope-walk. His faculty of order +may be turned to account by letting him set the +dinner and tea-table, and clear away. By a faculty +of constructiveness, he may become a fair basket-maker. +By his power of imitation, he may learn +to dig in the field, or to saw wood, or blow glass, +or do other such mechanical work. If the whole +family not only love their poor brother, but take +his interests fairly to heart, his case may be made +something of in one way or another. At worst +he will probably be saved from being offensive or +annoying to those about him;—a thing almost +always practicable in cases of idiotcy from birth: +and it is very likely that he will be enabled to pass +through life, not only harmless, but busy, and, to +some extent, useful, and as happy as his deficient +nature permits.</p> + +<p>This is not a case in which patience can be +spoken of as a solace to the individual. He may<span class="pagenum">[Pg 119]</span> +be saved from the misery of impatience by wise +training,—by the formation of habits of quietness, +under the rule of steady, gentle authority. This +may often be done: but the noble and sweet +solace of patience under his restrictions is not for +him: for he is unconscious, and does not need it. +It remains for those who do need it—for those +who suffer for him and by him—for the father +who sighs that his son can never enjoy the honour +and privilege of toil, or the blessing of a home;—for +the mother whose pillow is wet with the tears +she sheds over her child's privations;—for the +children whose occupations and play are disturbed +by the poor brother who wants their playthings, +and hides or spoils their books or work. They all +have need of much patience; and, under good +training, they obtain patience according to their +need. From what I have seen, I know that the +training of such a being may become a cheerful +and hopeful object to his parents, and one which +strengthens them to repress his whims and deny +his animal appetites, and inflict the pain of their +displeasure upon him, in the patient hope of giving +him some degree of the privilege of self-government. +From what I have seen, I know that the +most self-willed and irritable child of such a family +may learn never to be angry with John, however +passionate at times with others. Toys broken by +John are not to be cried for;—work spoiled by +John is to be cheerfully done over again: and<span class="pagenum">[Pg 120]</span> +everybody is to help to train John not to do such +mischief again.</p> + +<p>Poor John knows nothing of life and its uses. +He goes through his share of it, like one walking +in a dream, and then passes away without leave-taking. +He passes away early; for people in his +state rarely live very long. Brain is the great +condition of life; and an imperfect brain usually +brings early death. It is when he has passed away +that the importance of poor John's life becomes +felt and understood. Neighbours may and do +reasonably call his departure a blessing; and the +parents and brethren may and do reasonably feel +it an unspeakable relief from anxiety and restraint. +But they mourn him with a degree of sorrow surprising +to themselves. When the parents mark +the habits of self-government, and the temper of +cheerful patience, generated in their remaining +children, they feel as if under deep obligations to +their dead son, as the instrument of this. And +the youngest of the tribe looks round wistfully for +John, and daily wishes that he was here, to do +what he was fond of doing, and enjoy the little +pleasures which were looked upon as particularly +his own.</p> + +<p>If the worst case of infirmity may issue thus, +we may turn cheerfully to some which are light in +comparison, however sad when looked at by themselves—the +cases of blind and deaf children. What +is to be made of these?<span class="pagenum">[Pg 121]</span></p> + +<p>The case of the deaf is unquestionably the worst +of the two, when the deficiency is from birth. +The subsequent loss of either sense is quite a +different matter. Then, blindness is the severest +privation of the two, from its compulsory idleness, +and total exclusion from the objects of the lost +sense, while the deaf can always be busy in mind +and hands, and retain the most important part of +the world of sound in written and printed speech. +It is the privation of language which makes the +case of those born deaf worse than that of the +born blind. Those born deaf are dumb; and +they are rendered incapable of any high degree of +intellectual and moral cultivation, by being cut +off from all adequate knowledge of the meaning +of language, and from the full reception of most +abstract ideas. This is not the place for discussion +on this subject. It is enough to say here, +that every one who has tried knows that though +it is easy to teach a deaf and dumb child what is +meant by the words "dog," "sheep," "spoon," +"tree," "table," &c., it is found beyond measure +difficult to teach it the meaning of "Monday," +"Tuesday," "Wednesday," &c., and of "love," +"truth," "hatred," "wisdom," and the names of +unseen things in general. There is every reason +to believe that the most highly educated deaf and +dumb persons, who use language readily and +prettily, have yet very narrow and superficial +minds—from language not being to them natural<span class="pagenum">[Pg 122]</span> +speech, incessantly bringing them into communication +with other minds, but a lesson taught as +we teach blind children about colours, which they +may speak about without making mistakes, but +can never understand.</p> + +<p>It is necessary for the parents of the deaf and +dumb to be aware of these things, if they are to +look their child's lot steadily in the face, and learn +what is the best that can be made of it. They +must apply themselves chiefly to give it what it is +least likely to obtain from others—not so much +ideas of sight, touch, smell, and taste, as of unseen +things. They must ever bear in mind that the +great purpose of the human ear and of speech is +not so much to convey ideas of sound—sweet and +profitable as is all the natural music of the universe—as +of unseen things—of the whole world of the +spirit, from which their child is naturally shut out +by its infirmity. After all that they can do, there +will be a sad deficiency; but they must lessen it +as much as they can. There is no fear but that +the child will, much as others, enjoy the sights +which are laid open to it, and be quick and ready +in action, according to its ideas. They must arouse +in it the pleasure of using its mental faculties; +and more carefully still, the satisfaction of moral +energy. They must be even more careful with it +than with the rest to lead it on to the exercise of +self-denial, and a habit of thoughtful conscientiousness, +that it may learn from its own moral expe<span class="pagenum">[Pg 123]</span>rience +much that it is debarred from learning as +others do of the rich kingdom which lies within +us all. In this case, above all others, is the moral +example of the parents important to the child. +Other children hear everyday the spoken testimony +of their parents in favour of what is good in morals +and manners. They hear it in church, and in +every house they enter. The deaf child judges by +what it sees, and guides itself accordingly. If it +sees bad temper and manners, how is it to know +of anything better? If it sees at home only love +and kindness, just and gentle, has it not an infinitely +better chance of becoming loving and gentle +itself?</p> + +<p>The parents must keep a careful guard on their +own pity for their defective child. A deaf child +has scarcely any notion, as a blind one has, of +what it loses; and nothing is more certain than +that deaf children are apt to be proud and vain, +and to take advantage of the pity which everybody +feels for them. Knowing little of their own +loss, they misunderstand this pity, and are apt to +take to themselves the credit of all the notice it +brings them, and to grasp at all they can get. A +watchful parent knows from her heart that there +is no blame in this; but she sees that there is +great danger. The child cannot help the liability; +but it may be rescued from it. She must not be +lavish of indulgence which may be misunderstood. +She should let it be as happy as it can in its own<span class="pagenum">[Pg 124]</span> +way—and the deaf and dumb are usually very +brisk and cheerful. What she has to do for it is +not to attempt to console it for a privation which +it does not feel, but to open to it a higher and +better happiness in a humble, occupied, and serene +state of mind. She should set before it its own +state of privation, notwithstanding any mortification +that the disclosure may cause: and when +that mortification is painful, she should soothe it +by giving, gently and cheerfully, the sweet remedies +of humility and patience.</p> + +<p>In the case of the blind child, the training must +be very different. Every day, and almost every +hour, reminds the blind child of its privation; +and its discipline is so severe, that almost any +degree of indulgence in the parent would be excusable, +if it were not clearly the first duty to +consider the ultimate welfare of the child. It is +natural to the sighing mother to watch over its +safety with a nervous anxiety, to go before it to +clear its way, to have it always at her knee, and to +make everybody and everything give way to it. +But she must remember that her child is not +destitute, and for ever helpless, because it has one +sense less than other people. It has the wide +world of the other four senses to live in, and a +vaster mental and moral world than it will ever +learn fully to use: and she must let it try what it +can make of its possessions. She will find that it +learns like others that fire burns and that bruises<span class="pagenum">[Pg 125]</span> +are disagreeable, and that it can save itself from +burns and bruises by using its senses of touch and +hearing. She will encourage it in the cheerful +work of shifting for itself, and doing, as far as +possible, what other people do. The wise and +benevolent Dr. Howe tells us of the children who +come to the Blind School at Boston, that for the +first two or three days they are timid and forlorn—having +been accustomed to too much care from +their mothers, who will not let them cross the +floor without being sure that there is nothing in +the way. But they presently enter into the free +and cheerful spirit of the house, use their faculties, +feel their way boldly, and run, climb, swing, and +play as merrily as any other children. That school +is a little world of people with four senses—not so +happy a one as if they had five, but a very good +one, nevertheless; sufficiently busy, safe, and +cheerful for those who use heartily such powers +as they have.</p> + +<p>This is the way in which the lot of the blind +should be viewed by their parents. And even +then the deprivation is quite sad enough to require +great efforts of patience on every hand. The +parents have need of a deep and settled patience +when they see that their child has powers which, +if he had but eyes, would make him able and +happy in some function from which he is now for +ever cut off: and the whole family have need of +patience for their infirm member when they are<span class="pagenum">[Pg 126]</span> +gaining knowledge, or drinking in enjoyment +through the eye, while he sits dark, and unconscious +or mortified. As for him, in his darkness +and mortification, there can be no question of his +need of patience. How to aid him and supply +this need, I shall consider in my next chapter, +when treating of the other infirmities which some +children have to learn to bear.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 127]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_127" name="Page_127"></a>CHAPTER XIII.<br /> +<br /> +CARE OF THE POWERS: PATIENCE—INFIRMITY.</h2> + + +<p>The smaller misfortunes which we now turn to, +under the head of Infirmity—the loss of a limb, +the partial loss of a sense, deformity and sickness—are +scarcely less afflictive to the parent than +those we have considered, because they are even +more trying to the child. The sufferer is fully +conscious of these: and the parents' heart is sore +at the spectacle of its mortifications. What can +be done to help it to a magnanimous patience?</p> + +<p>First, there must be the fullest confidence between +the parents and the child. It can open its +swelling heart to no one else; for the depth of its +feeling renders it quite unable to speak of its sufferings +to any one, unless allured to do so; and +no one can or ought to allure it to this confidence, +except its parents, or in case of failure from them. +It may be thought strange that this apparently +natural act should be set before the parents as a +duty: but I speak from knowledge; and from the +knowledge of so many cases that I am compelled +to believe that the very last subject on which +parents and child speak together is that on which +it is most necessary to the sufferer to have spoken<span class="pagenum">[Pg 128]</span> +sympathy. Some parents have not courage to +face the case themselves, and evade the painful +thought from day to day. Some feel for their +child that sort of deference which it is natural to +feel for the afflicted, and wait for the sufferer to +speak. Some persuade themselves that it is better +for the child not to recognise the trial expressly, +and repel by forced cheerfulness the sufferer's +advances towards confidence. All this is wrong. +I have known a little crippled girl grow up to +womanhood in daily pain of heart from the keen +sense of her peculiarity, almost without uttering a +syllable to any human being of that grief which +cursed her existence; and suffering in mind and +character irreparably from the restraint. She got +over it at last, to a considerable degree, and became +comparatively free and happy; but nothing +could ever compensate to her for her long bondage +to false shame, or repair the mischief done to the +action of her mind by its being made to bear unrelieved +weight which it had naturally power to +throw off. I know another sufferer from the same +misfortune whose heart was early opened by genial +confidence, and who throve accordingly. She had +to bear all the pain which a lively and sensitive +child must feel in being unable to play and dance +as others do, and being so marked an object as +to be subject to staring in the street, and to the +insulting remarks of rude children as she passed. +But the sympathy of her protectors bore her<span class="pagenum">[Pg 129]</span> +through till her mind was strong enough to protect +itself; and she has come out of the struggle free +and gay, active and helpful to a marvellous degree—even +graceful, making a sort of plaything of her +crutch, and giving constant joy to her friends, and +relief to strangers, by her total freedom from false +shame. I have known deafness grow upon a sensitive +child, so gradually as never to bring the +moment when her parents felt impelled to seek +her confidence; and the moment therefore never +arrived. She became gradually borne down in +health and spirits by the pressure of her trouble, +her springs of pleasure all poisoned, her temper +irritated and rendered morose, her intellectual +pride puffed up to an insufferable haughtiness, +and her conscience brought by perpetual pain of +heart into a state of trembling soreness—all this, +without one word ever being offered to her by any +person whatever of sympathy or sorrow about her +misfortune. Now and then, some one made light +of it; now and then, some one told her that she +mismanaged it, and gave advice which, being inapplicable, +grated upon her morbid feelings; but no +one inquired what she felt, or appeared to suppose +that she did feel. Many were anxious to show +kindness, and tried to supply some of her privations; +but it was too late. She was shut up, and +her manner appeared hard and ungracious while +her heart was dissolving in emotions. No one +knew when she stole out of the room, exasperated<span class="pagenum">[Pg 130]</span> +by the earnest talk and merry laugh that she could +not share, that she went to bolt herself into her own +room, and sob on the bed, or throw herself on her +knees, to pray for help or death. No one knew +of her passionate longing to be alone while she was, +for her good, driven into society; nor how, when +by chance alone for an hour or two, she wasted +the luxury by watching the lapse of the precious +minutes. And when she grew hard, strict, and +even fanatical in her religion, no one suspected +that this was because religion was her all—her +soul's strength under agonies of false shame, her +wealth under her privations, her refuge in her +loneliness: while her mind was so narrow as to +require that what religion was to her—her one +pursuit and object—it should be everybody else. +In course of years, she, in a great measure, retrieved +herself, though still conscious of irreparable +mischief done to her nature. All this while, many +hearts were aching for her, and the minds of her +family were painfully occupied in thinking what +could be done for her temper and her happiness. +The mistake of reserve was the only thing they +are answerable for: a mistake which, however +mischievous, was naturally caused by the very +pain of their own sympathy first, and the reserve +of the sufferer afterwards.</p> + +<p>From the moment that a child becomes subject +to any infirmity, a special relation between him +and his mother begins to exist: and their confi<span class="pagenum">[Pg 131]</span>dence +must become special. She must watch for, +or make occasions for speaking to him about his +particular trial; not often, nor much at a time, +but so as to leave an opening for the pouring out +of his little heart. If he is not yet conscious of +his peculiarity, this is the gentlest and easiest way +in which he can be made so. If he is conscious, +he must have some pain at his heart which he will +be the better for confiding. Hump-backed people +are generally said to be vain, haughty, fond of +dress, forward and talkative, irritable and passionate. +If not so, they are usually shy and timid. +I cannot see anything in their peculiarity to cause +the first-mentioned tendencies: and I believe they +arise from the mismanagement of their case. The +fond mother and pitying friends may naturally +forget that the child does not see himself as they +see him, and fancy that they soothe his mortifications +by saying whatever they can say in favour of +his appearance—letting him know that he has +pretty hair, or good eyes. They may even dress +him fine, to make up to him in one way for his +faults of appearance in another. Under the idea +of encouraging him under his supposed mortifications, +they may lead him on to be forward and talkative. +And then again, his mortifications, when +they come upon him unprepared, may well make +him irascible. How much of this might be obviated, +as well as the shyness and timidity of those +who are left to themselves, by timely confidence<span class="pagenum">[Pg 132]</span> +between the mother and child! When they are +alone together, calm and quiet, let her tell him +that he does not look like other children, and that +he will look less like other people as he grows older. +Never let her tell him that this is of no great consequence—never +let her utter the cant that is +talked to young ladies at schools, that the charms +of the mind are everything, and those of the form +and face nothing. This is not true; and she ought +to know that it is not: and nothing but truth will +be strong enough to support him in what he must +undergo. Let her not be afraid to tell him the +worst. He had better hear it from her; and it +will not be too much for him, if told in a spirit of +cheerful patience. The child, like the man, never +has a happier hour than that which succeeds the +reception of bad news, if the nobler faculties are +allowed their free play. If such a child hears from +his mother that he will always be ugly-shaped and +odd-looking,—that he will not be able to play as +other boys do, or will be laughed at when he tries; +that he will be mocked at and called "My lord" +in the streets, and so on, and yet that all these +things will not make him unhappy if he can bear +them; and if they go on to consult how he may bear +them, and she opens out to him something of the +sweet pleasures of endurance, he will come out of +the consultation exhilarated, and perhaps proudly +longing to meet his mortifications, and try his +strength. Such pride must have a fall,—like all the<span class="pagenum">[Pg 133]</span> +pride of childhood,—and many an hour of depression +must he know for every one of exhilaration: +but his case is put into his own hands, and there is +every hope that he will conquer, through patience, +at last. And what a refuge he has in his mother! +How well she will now know his feelings and his +needs! and how easy and natural it will be to him +henceforth to confide in her! And her knowledge +of his secret mind will enable her to oversee and +regulate the conduct of the rest of the household +towards him, so as to guard against his being +treated with an indulgence which he can dispense +with, or his receiving in silence wounds to his +feelings which might rankle. The object is, with +sufferers under every kind of conscious infirmity, +to make them hardy in mind,—saving them from +being hardened. They must know in good time +that they have a difficult and humbling lot, and +what its difficulties and humiliations are,—their +noblest faculties being at the same time roused to +meet them. It is the rousing of these noble faculties +which makes the hour of confidence one of +exhilaration: and when the actual occasion of +trial arises, when the cripple is left out of the +cricket-match, and the deaf child misses the joke +or entertaining story, and the hump-back hears +the jibe behind him,—there is hope that the nobler +faculties will be obedient to the promised call, and +spread the calm of patience over the tumult of the +sufferer's soul.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 134]</span></p> + +<p>But, while the infirm child is encouraged to take +up the endurance of his infirmity as an object and +an enterprise, he must not be allowed to dwell too +much on it, nor on the peculiar features of his +condition; or his heroism will pass over into +pride, and his patience into self-complacency. +Life and the world are before him, as before +others; and one circumstance of lot and duty, +however important, must not occupy the place of +more than one,—either in his confidences with his +mother, or in his own mind. The more he is +separated from others by his infirmity, the more +carefully must his interests and duties be mixed +up with those of others, in the household and out +of it. Companionship in every way must be promoted +all the more, and not the less, because of +the eternal echo within him, "The heart knoweth +its own bitterness, and the stranger intermeddleth +not with its joy."</p> + +<p>What has been said thus far about patience will +serve for cases of sickness, as well as for other +trials among children. I may add that I think it +a pity to lavish indulgence—privileges—upon a +sick child, for two reasons;—that such indulgence +is no real comfort or compensation to the suffering +child, who is too ill to enjoy it: and that it is witnessed +by others, and remembered by the patient +himself when he has forgotten his pain, so as to +cause sickness to be regarded as a state of privilege; +a persuasion likely to lead to fancies about health,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 135]</span> +and an exaggeration of ailments. All possible +tenderness, of course, there should be, and watchfulness +to amuse the mind into forgetfulness of +the body: but the less fuss and unusual indulgence +the better for the child's health of body and +mind, and the purer the lesson of patience which +he may bring out of his sickness. Illness is a great +evil, little to be mitigated by any means of diversion +that can be used: and a child usually trained +to patience, may be trusted to bear the evil well, +if not misled by false promises: and it is much +kinder to him to let him rest on a quiet and steady +tenderness, than to promise and offer him indulgences +which will be longed for hereafter, but +which wholly disappoint him now, and add another +trial to the many which put his patience to +the proof.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 136]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_136" name="Page_136"></a>CHAPTER XIV.<br /> +<br /> +CARE OF THE POWERS.—LOVE.</h2> + + +<p>It appears to me, that much disappointment in +the results of education, as in other departments +of life, arises from the confusion we fall into about +human affections,—mixing up things which do not +belong to each other, and then being disappointed +at a mixed result. For instance, we speak of love +as if it were one affection; or at most of two +kinds—one a passion and the other an affection: +whereas, there are many kinds of love, as distinct +from one another as hope and patience. Besides +what is commonly called the passion of love, there +are other kinds which differ as essentially from +one another, as from this. It is commonly, but +as I think, hastily, supposed that a child's love of +her doll is the same affection which will be fixed +hereafter on a schoolfellow, on her parents, and +on suffering fellow-creatures. It is supposed to +be the same affection, employed on different objects: +and the parent is perplexed and shocked when +the little creature who cannot be parted from her +doll, shows indifference towards her family, and +has no sympathy with a beggar, or a sick neighbour. +If the parents will put away their perplexity<span class="pagenum">[Pg 137]</span> +and dismay, and set themselves to learn from what +is before their eyes, they may discover what will +comfort and direct them.</p> + +<p>With the passion of love, as it is called, we have +nothing to do here, but to give an anecdote by the +way. A little girl was telling a story to her father, +when they fell in with the kind of perplexity, I +have spoken of. She told of a knight who once +loved a lady, and of all the hard and troublesome +things the knight did to gratify the wishes of the +lady: and how, at last, when the lady did not +choose to marry him, he carried her off, and shut +her up in a castle, and gave her everything he +could think of to make her happy: but she could +not enjoy all these fine things, because she pined +to get home. "Oh!" said the father, "she did +wish to get out, then." "Yes! she begged and +prayed of the knight to let her go home: but he +loved her so much that he would not." "Well: +but you said he did everything he could to gratify +her: why was that?" "Because he loved her so +much." "What! he did everything to please her +because he loved her so much: and then he would +not let her go home as she wished, because he +loved her so much! How can that be?" The +child thought for awhile, and then said "I suppose +he had two loves for her: and one made him do +almost everything that she liked; and the other +made him want that she should do what <i>he</i> liked."</p> + +<p>If parents could see thus plainly the difference<span class="pagenum">[Pg 138]</span> +between the several kinds of love which their +children should experience, it would be well for +all parties. A mother who intensely loves her +little prattler, is mortified that the child appears +to have but a very moderate love for her in return: +and she comforts herself with the hope that the +child's affection will strengthen as it grows, till it +becomes a fair return for her own. She does not +perceive that the child already entertains an affection +much like her own,—only, not for her, but +for something else. A little girl who had to lose +her leg, promised to try to lie still if she might +have her doll in her arms: and wonderfully still +she lay, clasping her doll. When it was over, the +surgeon thoughtlessly said, "Now shall I cut off +your doll's leg?" "Oh! no, no!" cried the +child, in an agony of mind far greater than she +had shown before: "not my doll's leg;—don't +hurt my doll!" And she could hardly be comforted. +Here was an affection the same as the +mother's,—and as strong and true: but of a +different kind from that which children can ever +feel for parents; for it is purely instinctive, while +the love of children for parents is made up of +many elements, and must slowly grow out of not +only a natural power of attachment, but a long +experience of hope, reliance, veneration and +gratitude.</p> + +<p>This instinctive love is a pretty thing to witness: +as in the case of a very little child who had a<span class="pagenum">[Pg 139]</span> +passionate love of flowers. She would silently +carry out her little chair in the summer morning, +and sit down in the middle of the flower-bed, and +be overheard softly saying, "Come you little +flower—open, you little flower! When will you +open your pretty blue eye?" This is charming; +and so it is to see an infant fondling a kitten, or +feeding the brood of chickens, and a girl singing +lullaby to her doll. But it must ever be remembered, +that this is the lowest form of human +affection till it is trained into close connection +with the higher sentiments. What it is when left +to itself—and it will too probably be left to itself +by parents who are satisfied with any manifestation +of affection in children;—what it is when +left to itself may be seen in some disgusting +spectacles which occasionally meet our eyes among +the mature and the old. We see it in the young +mother who spoils her child—who loves her child +with so low a love, that she indulges it to its hurt. +We see it in the aged mother, who loves her +manly son as a bear loves its cub;—only with +more selfishness, for she cannot consider his good, +but lavishes ill-humour and fondness on him by +turns. We see it in the man who gives his mind +to the comfort of his horse; and never a look or a +word to a hungry neighbour. We see it in a +woman, who opens her arms to every dog or cat +that comes near her, whose eye brightens, and +whose cheek mantles while she feeds her canaries,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 140]</span> +though she never had a friendship, nor cares for +any human being but such as are under five +years old.</p> + +<p>Thus low is this instinctive affection when left +to itself. But it is inestimable when linked on to +other and higher kinds of love, and especially to +that which is the highest of all, and worthy to +gather into itself all the rest,—benevolence. It is +easy to form this link when its formation is desired: +and it is terribly easy to neglect it when its importance +is not perceived. The child must be led +to desire the good of the cat, or bird, or doll, to +the sacrifice of its own inclinations. It must not +hurt pussy, or throw dolly into a corner, (every +child believing that dolly can feel) nor frighten +the bird: and moreover, it must be made to discharge +punctually, even to its own inconvenience, +the duty of feeding the live favourite, and cherishing +the doll. This leads on naturally to a cherishing +and forbearing love of the baby-brother or +sister: and next, perhaps, the parents may be +surprised by an offer of affection in sickness which +never showed itself while they were in health. A +child who receives caresses carelessly, or runs +away from them to caress the kitten, (which, +perhaps, runs away in its turn,) will come on tiptoe +to his mother's knee when she is ill, and stroke +her face, or nurse her foot in his lap, or creep up +into her easy chair, and nestle there quietly for an +hour at a time: and yet perhaps this same child<span class="pagenum">[Pg 141]</span> +will appear as indifferent as before when his mother +is well again, and does not seem to want his good +offices.</p> + +<p>From home, the affection may next be led a +little further abroad. This must be done very +cautiously, and the expansion of benevolence by +no means hurried or made a task of. I knew a +little girl who, at four years old, was full of +domestic benevolence—capable of denying herself +noise and amusement on fitting occasions, and +never happier than when waiting on and cherishing +a sick person. One day she seemed so much +interested about a poor woman who had come to +beg, that her mother took her into consultation +about what could be done for the woman and her +children. When told how nearly naked the poor +children were, and how they had no more clothes +to put on, though the weather was growing colder +and colder, she was asked whether she would not +like to give her blue frock to one of them. In a +low earnest voice, she said "No." The case was +again represented to her; and when, with some +little shrinking, she again said "No," her mother +saw that she had gone rather too far, and had +tried the young faculty of benevolence beyond its +strength. She watched and waited, and is repaid. +In her daughter, warm domestic affections co-exist +with a more than ordinary benevolence.</p> + +<p>This benevolence is the third form in which we +have already seen what is called love. Can any<span class="pagenum">[Pg 142]</span>thing +be more clearly marked than the difference +between these three;—the love that leads to marriage; +fondness for objects which can be idolised; +and benevolence which has no fondness in it, but +desires the diffusion of happiness, and acts independently +of personal regards? None of these +yield the sort of affection which the heart of the +parent desires, and which is essential to family +happiness. A child may kill its pet bird, or cat, +with kindness, and go out into the street in the +early morning, with its halfpenny in its hand (as +I have known a child do) to do good with it to +somebody;—a child may have these two kinds of +love strong in him, and yet show but a weak +attachment to the people about him. This attachment +is another kind of love from those we have +been considering. It is all-important to the character +of the individual, and to the happiness of +the family circle: and it is therefore of consequence +that its nature should be understood, and +its exercise wisely cared for.</p> + +<p>It is some time before the infant shows attachment +to any one. There are many signs of hope +and fear in an infant before it gives any token of +affection; its arms are held out first to its nurse; +and she usually continues the one to whom the +child clings, and from whom it will not be separated. +Beyond the nurse, the child's attachments +sometimes appear unaccountable. It will be happy +with some one person in the house, and make a<span class="pagenum">[Pg 143]</span> +difficulty of going to any one else: and the reason +of this may not be plain to anybody. Happy is +the mother if she be the one; and a severe trial +it is to a loving mother when she is not the one. +Of course, if the misfortune be owing to any fault +in herself,—if she be irritable, stern, or in any +way teasing to the child,—she cannot wonder +that he does not love her. If she be tender, +gentle, playful, and wise, and still her child loves +some one else in the house better, it is a sore trial, +certainly; but it must be made the best of. Of +course, the mother will strive to discover what it is +in another person that attaches the child; and if +she can attain the quality, she will. But it is +probably that which cannot be attained by express +efforts,—a power of entering into the little mind, +and meeting its thoughts and feelings. Some persons +have this power naturally much more than +others; and practice may have given them great +facility in using it; while the sense of inexperience, +and the strong anxiety that a young mother +has, may easily be a restraint on her faculties in +dealing with her child. I have heard the mothers +of large families declare (in the most private +conversation) in so many instances, that their +younger children are of a higher quality than the +older, and this from an age so early as to prevent +the difference being attributed to experience in +teaching, that I have been led to watch and think +on the subject: and I think that one powerful<span class="pagenum">[Pg 144]</span> +cause is that the mother has naturally more freedom +and playfulness and tact in her intercourse +with her younger children than with the elder, +and thereby fixes their attachment more strongly: +and there are no bounds to the good which arises +from strong affections in a child. Happy the +mother who is the object of her child's strongest +love from the beginning!—happy, that is, if she +makes a good use of her privilege. She must +never desire more love than the child has to give. +The most that it can give will be less than she +would like, and far less than her own for it: but +she will not obtain more, but only endanger +what she has, by making the child conscious of +his affections, and by requiring tokens which do +not manifest themselves spontaneously. It should +be enough for a mother that her child comes +to her with his little troubles and pleasures, and +shows by his whole behaviour that she is of more +importance to him than any one else in the world. +If it be so, there will be times when he will spring +into her lap, and throw his arms round her neck, +and give her the thrilling kiss that she longs to +have every day and every hour. But the sweetness +of these caresses will be lost when they cease +to be spontaneous; and the child will leave off +springing into the lap, if it is to be teased for +kisses when there. There are few products of the +human mind which are to be had good upon +compulsion; and affection least of all. I knew a<span class="pagenum">[Pg 145]</span> +little boy who was brought home from being at +nurse in the country, and shown to his conscientious, +anxious, but most formal mother. The +child clung to his nurse's neck, hid his face on +her shoulder, and screamed violently. But his +mother's voice was heard above his noise, saying +solemnly, "Look at me, my dear. Nurse is going +away, and you will not see her any more. You +must love <i>me</i> now." Whether she thus gained her +child's love, my readers may conjecture.</p> + +<p>The mother who is first in her child's affection +is under the serious responsibility of imparting the +treasure to others. She takes her whole household +into her own heart; and she must open her little +one's heart to take in all likewise. She must +associate all in turn in his pursuits and pleasures, +till his love has spread through the house, and he +can be happy and cherished in every corner of it.</p> + +<p>The mother who sees some one else more beloved +than herself,—the servant, perhaps, or an +elder child of her own,—must not lose heart, much +less temper, or all is lost. It is possible that her +turn may never come: but it is far more probable +that it will, if she knows how to wait for it. She +must go on doing her part as perseveringly and, +if it may be, as cheerfully as if her heart was +satisfied; and sooner or later the child will discover, +never to forget, what a friend she is. Moreover, +if her mind and manner are not such as to +win a child in his early infancy, they may suit his<span class="pagenum">[Pg 146]</span> +needs at a later stage of his mind. I have observed +that the mothers who are most admirable at some +seasons of their children's lives fall off at others. +I have seen a mother who had extraordinary skill +in bringing out and training her children's faculties +before they reached their teens, and who was all-sufficient +for them then, fail them sadly as a friend +and companion in the important years which follow +seventeen. And I have seen a mother who +could make no way with her children in their +early years, and who keenly felt how nearly indifferent +they were to her, while her whole soul +and mind were devoted to them,—I have seen +such a mother idolised by her daughters when +they became wise and worthy enough to have her +for a friend. I mention these things for comfort +and encouragement: and who is more in need of +comfort and encouragement than the mother who, +loving her child as mothers should, meets with not +only a less than adequate, but a less than natural +return?</p> + +<p>There is one case more sad and more solemn +than this; the case of the unloving and unloved +child. There are some few human beings in whom +the power of attachment is so weak that they +stand isolated in the world, and seem doomed to +a hermit existence amidst the very throng of +human life. If such are neglected, they are lost. +They must sink into a slough of selfishness, and +perish. And none are so likely to be neglected as<span class="pagenum">[Pg 147]</span> +those who neither love nor win love. If such an +one is not neglected, he may become an able and +useful being, after all; and it is for the parents to +try this, in a spirit of reverence for his mysterious +nature, and of pity for the privations of his heart. +They will search out and cherish, by patient love, +such little power of attachment as he has: and +they will perhaps find him capable of general +kindliness, and the wide interests of benevolence, +though the happiness of warm friendships and +family endearment is denied him. Such an one +can never take his place among the highest rank +of human beings, nor can know the sweetest happiness +that life can yield. But by the generous +love of his parents, and of all whom they can +influence to do his nature justice, his life may be +made of great value to himself and others, and he +may become respected for his qualities, as well as +for his misfortune.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 148]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_148" name="Page_148"></a>CHAPTER XV.<br /> +<br /> +CARE OF THE POWERS.—VENERATION.</h2> + + +<p>Among the great blessings which are shared by +the whole human race, one of the chief is its +universal power of veneration.</p> + +<p>I call this a universal power, because there is no +human being, (except the idiot) in whom it is not +inherent from his birth: and I think I may say, +that there is none in whom it does not exist, more +or less, till his death. Unhappy influences may +check or pervert it: but there is no reason to believe +that it can be utterly destroyed. The grinning +scoffer, who laughs at everything serious, who despises +every man but himself, and who is insensible +to the wonders and charms of nature, yet stands in +awe of something,—if it be nothing better than +rank and show, or brute force, or the very power +of contempt in others which he values so much in +himself. Send for such an one into the presence +of the Queen, or bring him to the bar of the House +of Commons, or ask him to dinner in a sumptuous +palace, and, however far gone he may be in contempt, +he will be awe-struck. Set him down face +to face with a man who makes game of everything +he does not understand, (and that will be almost<span class="pagenum">[Pg 149]</span> +everything that exists) and he will have a respect +for that man. If you can bring his mind into +contact with any objects low enough to excite his +degraded faculty of veneration, you will find that +the faculty is still there. It appears to be indeed +inextinguishable.</p> + +<p>We have, as usual, two things to take heed to +in regard to this great and indispensable power of +the mind. First, to take care that the power +neither runs riot, nor is neglected. And next, to +direct it to its proper objects.</p> + +<p>I. The faculty, like all others, is of unequal +strength in different people;—in children, as well +as in grown persons. We see one man who seems +to have no self-reliance or freedom of action in +anything; whose life is one long ague fit of superstition, +from that cowardly dread of God which +he means for religion: who takes anybody's word +for everything, from a fear of using his own +faculties, and who is overwhelmed in the presence +of rank, wealth, or ability superior to his own. +We see another man careless, and contemptuous, +and self-willed, from a want of feeling of what +there is in the universe, and in his fellow-men +superior to his faculties, and mysterious to his +understanding. And in the merest infants, we +may discern, by careful watching, a difference no +less marked. One little creature will reach boldly +after everything it sees, and buffet its playthings +and the people about it, and make itself heard and<span class="pagenum">[Pg 150]</span> +attended to whenever it so pleases, and has to be +taught and trained to lie quiet and submissive. +And another of the same age will watch with a +shrinking wonder whatever is new or mysterious, +and be shy before strangers, and has to be taught +and trained to examine things for itself, and to +make free with the people about it. Such being +the varieties in the strength of the natural faculty, +the training of it must vary accordingly.</p> + +<p>As I have said before, no human faculty needs +to be repressed; because no human faculty is in +itself bad. Where any one power appears to be +excessive, we are not to set to work to vex and +mortify it: but rather, to bring up to it those +antagonist faculties which ought to balance it, and +which, in such a case, clearly want strengthening. +If, for instance, a child appears to have too much +of this faculty of Veneration—if it fancies a mystery +in everything that happens, and yields too +easily to its companions, and loves ghost stories +which yet make it ill, and is always awe-struck +and dreaming about something or other—that child +is not to be laughed at, nor to be led to despise or +make light of what it cannot understand. That +child has not too much Veneration: for no one can +ever have too much of the faculty. The mischief +lies in his having too little of something else;—too +little self-respect; too little hope; too little +courage.</p> + +<p>Let him continue to exercise and enjoy freely<span class="pagenum">[Pg 151]</span> +his faculty of Wonder. His mother should tell +him of things that are really wonderful and past +finding out: and as he grows old enough, let her +point out to him that all things in nature are +wonderful, and past our finding out, from the punctuality +of the great sun and blessed moon, to the +springing of the blade of grass. Let her sympathise +in his feeling that there is something awful +in the thunderstorm, and in the incessant roll of +the sea. Let her express for him, as far as may +be, his unutterable sense of the weakness and ignorance +of child or man in the presence of the +mighty, ever-moving universe, and of the awful +unknown Power which is above and around us, +wherever we turn. Let her show respect to every +sort of superiority, according to its kind—to old +age, to scholarship, to skill of every sort, to social +rank and office; and above all, to the superiority +that goodness gives. Let her thus cherish and indulge +her child's natural faculty, and permit no +one else to thwart it. But she must give her +utmost pains to exercise at the same time his +inquiring and knowing faculties, and his courage +and self-respect. Among the many wonders which +she cannot explain, there are many which she can. +He should be encouraged to understand as much +as anybody understands, and especially of those +things which he is most likely to be afraid of. He +should be made to feel what power is given to him +by such knowledge: and led to respect this power<span class="pagenum">[Pg 152]</span> +in himself as he would in any one else. I knew +a little child whose reverence for Nature was so +strong as almost to overpower some other faculties. +She was town-bred: and whenever it chanced that +she was out in the country for more than a common +walk, she was injuriously excited, all day long. +She was not only in a state of devout adoration to +the Maker of all she saw: but she felt towards the +trees, and brooks, and corn-fields as if they were +alive, and she did not dare to interfere with them. +One day, some companions carried home some +wild strawberry roots for their gardens, and persuaded +her to do the same. She did so, in a great +tremor. Before she had planted her roots, she +had grown fond of them, as being dependent on +her; and she put them into the ground very tenderly +and affectionately. As it was now near noon, +of course she found her strawberries withered +enough when she next went to look at them, as +they lay drooping in the hot sun. She bethought +herself, in her consternation, of a plan for them: +ran in for a little chair: put it over the roots, +stuffing up with grass every space which could let +the sunshine in; watered the roots, and left them, +with the sense of having done a very daring thing. +It was sunset before she could go to her garden +again. When she removed the chair, there were +the strawberries, fresh and strong, with leaves of +the brightest green! It was a rapturous moment +to this superstitious child—this, in which she felt<span class="pagenum">[Pg 153]</span> +that she had meddled with the natural growth of +something, and with success. And it was a profitable +lesson. She took to gardening, and to +trying her power over Nature in other ways, losing +some superstition at every step into the world of +knowledge, and gaining self-respect (a highly +necessary direction of the spirit of reverence) with +every proof of the power which knowledge confers.</p> + +<p>What the parent has to do for the child in +whom the sentiment of Reverence appears disproportionate, +is to give him Power in himself, in +every possible way, that he may cease to be overwhelmed +with the sense of power out of himself +on every hand. If he can become possessed of +power of Conscience, his religious fear will become +moderated to wholesome awe. If he can become +possessed of power of understanding, the mysteries +of Nature will stimulate instead of depressing his +mind. If he can attain to power of sympathy, he +will see men as they are, and have a fellow-feeling +with them, through all the circumstances of rank +and wealth which once wore a false glory in his +eyes. If he can attain a due power of self-reliance, +he will learn that his own wonderful faculties and +unbounded moral capacities should come in for +some share of his reverence, and be brought +bravely into action in the universe, instead of +being left idle by the wayside, making obeisance +incessantly to everything that passes by, while +they ought to be up and doing.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 154]</span></p> + +<p>What should be done with the pushing, fearless +child, who seems to stand in awe of nobody, is +plain enough. As I have said, he reverences +<i>something</i>: for no human being is without the +faculty. His parents must find out what it is that +does excite his awe: and, however strange may +be the object, they must sympathise in the feeling. +I have known a fearless child of three reverence +his brother of four and a half. We may laugh; +but it was no laughing matter, but a very interesting +one, to see the little fellow watch every +movement of his brother, give him credit for profound +reasons in everything he did, and humbly +imitate as much as he could. Supposing such +a child to be deficient generally in reverence, it +would be a tremendous mistake in the parents to +check this one exercise of it. They should, in such +a case, carefully observe the rights of seniority +among the children; avoid laughing at the follies +of the elder, or needlessly pointing out his faults, +in the presence of the younger, while they daily +strive to raise the standard of both. They must +also lead the imagination of the little one to +contemplate things which he must feel to be at +once real and beyond his comprehension. They +must, at serious moments, lead his mind higher +than he was aware it would go, even till it sinks +under his sense of ignorance. They must carry his +thoughts down into depths which he never dreamed +of, and where the spirit of awe will surely lay hold<span class="pagenum">[Pg 155]</span> +upon him. I do not believe there is any child who +cannot be impressed with a serious, plain account +of some of the wonders of nature; with a report, +ever so meagre, of the immensity of the heavens, +whose countless stars, the least of which we cannot +understand, are for ever moving, in silent mystery, +before our eyes. I do not believe there are many +children that may not be deeply impressed by the +great mystery of brute life, if their attention be +duly fixed upon it. Let the careless and confident +child be familiarised, not only with the ant and +the bee for their wonderful instinct, but with all +living creatures as inhabitants of the same world +as himself, and at the same time, of a world of +their own, as we have; a world of ideas, and +emotions, and pleasures, which we know nothing +whatever about,—any more than they know the +world of our minds. I do not believe there is any +child who would not look up with awe to a man +or woman who had done a noble act,—saved another +from fire or drowning, or told the truth to his +own loss or peril, or visited the sick in plague-time, +or the guilty in jail. I do not believe there +is any child who would not look up with awe to a +man who was known to be wise beyond others; to +have seen far countries; to have read books in +many languages; or to have made discoveries +among the stars, or about how earth, air, and +water are made. If it be so, who is there that +may not be impressed at last by the evident<span class="pagenum">[Pg 156]</span> +truth that all that men have yet known and done +is as nothing compared with what remains to be +known and done: that the world-wide traveller is +but the half-fledged bird flitting round the nest: +that the philosopher is but as the ant which spends +its little life in bringing home half a dozen grains +of wheat: and that the most benevolent man is +grieved that he can do so little for the solace of +human misery, feeling himself like the child +who tries to wipe away his brother's tears, but +cannot heal his grief! Who is there that cannot +be impressed by the grave pointing out of the +mystery of life, and the vastness of knowledge +which lie around and before him; and by the +example of him who did none but noble and generous +deeds, and bore the fiercest sufferings, and +felt contempt for nothing under heaven! How +can it but excite reverence to show that he, even +he, was himself full of reverence, and incapable of +contempt!</p> + +<p>II. Having said thus much about nourishing +and balancing the faculty of reverence, I need +only point out the directions in which it should +be trained.</p> + +<p>The point on which a child's veneration will +first naturally fix will be Power. It must be the +parents' first business to fix that veneration on +Authority, instead of mere power. Instead of the +power to shut up in a closet, or to whip, the child +must reverence the authority which reveals itself<span class="pagenum">[Pg 157]</span> +in calm control and gentle command. The parents +must be the first objects of the child's disciplined +reverence. Even here, in this first clear case, the +faculty cannot work well without sympathy: and +the child must have sympathy from the parents +themselves. He must see that his parents respect +each other; that they consider one another's +authority unquestionable in the household; and +that they reverence <i>their</i> parent—if Granny be +still among them.</p> + +<p>Beyond this, there is no reason why the sympathy +between parents and children should not be +simple, constant, and true, as to their objects of +reverence.</p> + +<p>The child may revere as very wise, some person +whom the parents know not to be so: but they +may join their child in revering the wisdom which +they know to be his ideal. The child may go into +an enthusiasm about some questionable hero,—the +exemplar of some virtue which the parents feel to +be of a rather low order: but they will sympathise +in the homage to virtue—which is the main point. +They may be secretly amused at their child's +reverence for the constable: but they feel the +same in regard to that of which the constable is +the representative to the child—the Law. They +will lead him on with them in their advancing +reverence for knowledge; for that moral and intellectual +knowledge united which constitute wisdom; +and will thus turn away his regards from dwelling<span class="pagenum">[Pg 158]</span> +too much on outward distinctions, which might +otherwise inspire undue awe.</p> + +<p>Yet nearer will their hearts draw to his in veneration +for goodness; for intrepid truthfulness, for +humble fidelity, for cheerful humility, for gentle +charity. And at the ultimate point, their hearts +must become one with his; in the presence of the +Unknown; for there we are all,—the oldest and +the youngest—the wisest and the weakest,—but +little children, waiting to learn, and desiring to +obey.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 159]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_159" name="Page_159"></a>CHAPTER XVI.<br /> +<br /> +CARE OF THE POWERS.—TRUTHFULNESS.</h2> + + +<p>We come now to consider a moral quality whose +importance cannot be overrated, yet about which +there is more unsettledness of view and perplexity +of heart among parents than about, perhaps, any +other. Every parent is anxious about the truthfulness +of his child: but whether this virtue is to +come by nature, or by gift, or by training, many +an one is sorely perplexed to know. So few children +are truthful in all respects and without variation, +that we may well doubt whether the quality +can be inborn. And the cases are so many of children +otherwise good—even conscientious in other +respects—who talk at random, and say things +utterly untrue, that I do not wonder that those who +hold low views of human nature consider this a +constitutional vice, and a hereditary curse. I am +very far from believing this: and I will plainly +say what I do believe.</p> + +<p>I believe that the requisites of a habit of truthfulness +lie in the brain of every child that is born; +but that the truthfulness itself has to be taught, as +the speech which is to convey it has to be taught; +by helping the child to the use of his natural<span class="pagenum">[Pg 160]</span> +powers. The child has by nature the ear, the +lungs, the tongue, the palate, and the various and +busy mind,—the requisites for speech: but he +does not speak unless incited by hearing it from +others, and by being himself led on to attain the +power. In a somewhat resembling manner, every +child has more or less natural sense of what is +just in feeling and action, and what is real in nature, +and how to present his ideas to another mind. +Here are the requisites to truthfulness of speech: +but there is much to be learned, and much to +overcome, before the practice of truthfulness can +be completely formed, and firmly established. If +the case is once understood, we shall know how to +set about our work, and may await the event +without dismay in the worst cases, though in all +with the most careful vigilance.</p> + +<p>Is it not true that different nations, even +Christian nations, vary more in regard to truthfulness +than perhaps any other moral quality? Is +it not true that one or two continental nations +fall below us in regard to this quality, while they far +excel us in kindliness and cheerfulness of temper, +and pleasantness of manners? And does not this +difference arise from their thinking kindliness and +cheerfulness more important than sincerity and +accuracy of speech? And is not our national +superiority in regard to the practice of truth +chiefly owing to its being our national point of +honour, and our fixed supposition as a social habit?<span class="pagenum">[Pg 161]</span> +Do not these facts tend to show that the practice +of truthfulness is the result of training? and that +we may look for it with confidence as the result of +good training?</p> + +<p>Now, what are the requisites, and what the difficulties +that we have to deal with?</p> + +<p>Has not every child a keen sense of right and +justice, which he shows from the earliest time that +he can manifest any moral judgment at all? He +may be injurious and unjust to another, from +selfishness and passion: but can he not feel injustice +done to himself with the infallibility of an +instinct, and claim his rights with the acuteness +of a lawyer? Is there anything more surprising to +us in the work of education than every child's +sense of his rights, and need of unerring justice, +till he is far enough advanced generously to dispense +with it? Here we have the perception of +moral truth for one requisite.</p> + +<p>Another requisite is such good perceptive power +as informs a child truly of outward facts. There +is no natural power which varies more in different +subjects than this. One child sees everything as +it is, within its range. Another child sees but +little, being taken up with what it thinks or imagines. +A third sees wrongly, being easily deceived +about colours and forms, and the order in which +things happen, from its senses being dull, or its +faculties of observation being indolent. I have +known a child declare an object to be green when<span class="pagenum">[Pg 162]</span> +it was grey; or a man in a field to be a giant; or +a thing to have happened in the morning which +took place in the afternoon: and one need but +observe how witnesses in a court of justice vary +in their testimony about small matters regarding +which they are quite disinterested, to see that the +same imperfection in the perceptive faculties goes +on into mature age. It is plain that these faculties +must be exercised and trained very carefully, +if the child is to be made accurate in its +statements.</p> + +<p>Another and most important requisite is that +the child should, from the beginning, believe that +truthfulness is a duty. This belief must be given +on authority: for the obligation to truth is not, as +I have said, instinctive, but a matter of reasoning, +such as a child is not capable of entering +into. He will receive it, easily and permanently, +from the assurance and example of his parents; +but he does not, in his earliest years, see it for +himself. An affectionate child, thinking of a +beloved person, will tell his parent that he has +just seen and talked with that person, who is +known to be a hundred miles off. The parent is +shocked: and truly there is cause for distress; +for it is plain that the child has as yet no notion +of the duty of truthfulness; but the parent must +not, in his fear, aggravate the case, and run into +the conclusion that the child loves lying. The +case probably is that he says what is pleasant to<span class="pagenum">[Pg 163]</span> +his affections, without being aware that there is a +more serious matter to be attended to first: a +thing which he may hereafter be shocked not to +have known. I happen to remember at this moment, +three persons, now conscientiously truthful, +who in early childhood were in the habit of telling, +not only wonderful dreams, but most wonderful +things that they had seen in their walks, on the +high-road or the heath; giants, castles, beautiful +ladies riding in forests, and so on. In all these +cases, the parents were deeply distressed, and +applied themselves accordingly, first to check the +practice of narration, and next to exercise the +perceptive and reflective powers of the children, +so as to enable them to distinguish clearly the +facts they saw from the visions they called up +before their mind's eye. The appeal to conscience +they left for cases where their child had clearer +notions of right and wrong. Any one of these +children would, I believe, at that very time, have +suffered much rather than say what he knew to be +false, from any motive of personal fear or hope. +As I said, all these three are now eminently +honourable and trustworthy persons.</p> + +<p>The chief final requisite is, of course, conscientiousness. +When the child becomes capable +of self-knowledge and self-government, this alone +can be relied on for such a confirmation of the +habit of truth telling, or such a correction of any +tendency to inaccuracy, as may carry the young<span class="pagenum">[Pg 164]</span> +probationer through all temptations from within +and from without, steady in the practice of strict +truth. When all these requisites are combined,—when +the child feels truly, sees truly, and is aware +of the duty of speaking truly, the practice of +truthfulness becomes as natural and unfailing as +if it originated in an instinct.</p> + +<p>I remember an instance of the strange, unbalanced, +unprincipled state of mind of a child, who +was capable of telling a lie, and persisting in it, +at the very time that she was conscientious to excess +about some of her duties, and her sense of justice +(in regard to her own rights) ran riot in her. It +is an odd and a sad story; but instructive from +its very strangeness. She was asked by her mother +one day whether she had not played battledore +and shuttlecock before breakfast. From some +levity or inattention at the moment, she said +"No," and was immediately about to correct +herself when her mother's severe countenance +roused her pride and obstinacy, and she wickedly +repeated her denial. Here it was temper that was +the snare. There was nothing to be afraid of in +saying the truth, no reason why she should not. +But she had a temper of such pride and obstinacy +that she was aware of even enjoying being +punished, as giving her an opportunity of standing +out; while the least word of appeal to her affections +or her conscience, if uttered before her +temper was roused, would melt her in a moment.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 165]</span> +The question was repeated in many forms; and +still she, with a terrified and miserable conscience, +persisted that she had not played battledore that +morning; whereas her mother had heard it, and +knew from her companion who it was that had +played. The lying child was sent to her own room, +where she was in consternation enough till a mistake +of management was made which spoiled +everything, and destroyed the lesson to her. She +was sent for to read aloud, before the family, the +story of Ananias and Sapphira. She was sobbing +so that the reading was scarcely possible, till her +thoughts took a turn which speedily dried her +tears, and filled her with an insolent indignation +which excluded all chance of repentance. She +well knew the story of Ananias and Sapphira; +and she happened to have a great admiration of +the plan of the early Christians, of throwing all +their goods into a common stock. She knew that +the sin of Ananias and his wife lay chiefly in the +selfish fraud which was the occasion of their lie, +and that their case was therefore no parallel for +hers: and in the indignation of having it supposed +that she had sinned in their way,—she who longed +above everything to have been an early Christian +(a pretty subject truly!)—that she could be +thought silly enough to suppose that they were +struck dead for their fib, and not for their fraud,—in +this insolent indignation she put her one sin out +of sight, and felt herself an injured person. This<span class="pagenum">[Pg 166]</span> +adventure certainly did not strengthen her regard +to truth. She dared not state her objection to the +story in her own case: and perhaps she also disdained +to do it: she remained sullen; and her +mother had at last to let the matter drop.</p> + +<p>This was a case to make any parent's heart +sink: but the worse the case, the more instructive +to us now. Here was sufficient moral sense and +insight, in one direction, to hear an appeal, if any +had been made. Disgrace was the worst possible +resort, and especially when untenable ground was +taken for it. The best resort would have been a +tender and solemn private conversation, in which +the entanglement of passionate feelings might have +been unravelled, and the seat of moral disease +have been explored. When a moral disease so +fearful as this appears, parents should never rest +till they have found the seat of it, and convinced +the perilled child of the deadly nature of its malady. +In this case, the child was certainly not +half-convinced, and morally worse after the treatment, +while the material for conviction, repentance +and reformation, was in her.</p> + +<p>The method of training must depend much on +the organisation of the child in one respect; +whether he is ingenuous and frank, or reserved +and (I must say it)—sly. Some children are +certainly prone to slyness by nature; but there is +no reason why, under a wise training, they should +not be as honourable as the most ingenuous soul<span class="pagenum">[Pg 167]</span> +that ever was born. And they may even, when +thoroughly principled, be more reliable than some +open-minded persons, from being more circumspect.</p> + +<p>There is something very discouraging in seeing +little creatures who ought to be all fearlessness and +confidence hiding things under their pinafores, or +slipping out at the back-door for a walk which +they might have honestly by asking for it; or +putting round-about questions when plain ones +would do; or keeping all their little concerns to +themselves while spending their whole lives among +brothers and sisters. If one looks forward to their +maturity, one recoils from the image of what they +will be. But they must not grow up with these +tendencies. Their fault may turn to virtue, under +wise and gentle treatment. Their confidence must +be tenderly won, and their innocent desires gratified, +while every slyness is quietly shown to be as unavailing +as it is disagreeable, and every movement +towards ingenuousness cheerfully and lovingly +encouraged. The child's imagination must be engaged +on behalf of everything that is noble, heroic, +and openly glorious before the eyes of men. His +conscience and affections must be appealed to, not +in words, but by a long course of love and trust, +to return the trust he receives. Of course, the +parental example must be that of perfect openness +and simplicity; for the sight of mystery and concealment +in the house is enough to make even the +ingenuous child sly, through its faculty of imita<span class="pagenum">[Pg 168]</span>tion, +and its ambition to be old and wise; and +much more will it hinder the expansion of a reserved +and cunning child. If these things be all +attended to—if he sees only what is open, free, and +simple, and receives treatment which is open, free, +and encouraging, while it convinces him of a sagacity +greater than his own, there is every hope that +he will yield himself to the kindly influences +dispensed to him, and find for himself the comfort +and security of ingenuousness, and turn his secretive +ingenuity to purposes of intellectual exercise, +where it may do much good and no harm. That +ingenuity and sagacity may be well employed +among the secrets of history, the complexities of the +law, or the mysteries of mechanical construction or +chemical analysis, which may make a man vicious +and untrustworthy, if allowed to work in his +moral nature, and to shroud his daily conduct.</p> + +<p>As for the training of the candid and ingenuous +child, it is of course far easier and pleasanter; +but it must not be supposed that no care is required +to make him truthful. He must be trained to +accuracy, or all his ingenuousness will not save +him from saying many a thing which is not true. +Dr. Johnson advised that if a child said he saw a +thing out of one window, when in fact he saw it +out of another, he should be set right. I think the +Dr. was right; and that a child should consider no +kind of misstatement a trifle, seeing always that the +parents do not. An open-hearted and ingenuous<span class="pagenum">[Pg 169]</span> +child is likely to be a great talker; and is in that +way more liable to inaccuracy of statement than +a reserved child. Oh! let his parents guard him +well, by making him early the guardian of the +"unruly little member" which may, by neglect, +deprive him of the security and peace which should +naturally spread from his innocent heart through +his open and honest life! Let them help him to +add perfect truth of speech to his native truth of +heart, and their promising child cannot but be a +happy man.</p> + +<p>It may seem wearisome to say so often over that +the example of the parents is the chief influence +in the training of the child; but how can I help +saying it when the fact is so? Is it not true that +when the father of a family comes home and talks +before his children, every word sinks into their +minds? If he talks banter—banter so broad that +his elder children laugh and understand, how +should the little one on its mother's lap fail to +be perplexed and misled? It knows nothing about +banter, and it looks up seriously in its father's +face, and believes all he says, and carries away all +manner of absurd ideas. Or, if told not to believe +what he hears, how is he to know henceforth what +to believe; and how can he put trust in his father's +words? The turn for exaggeration which many +people have is morally bad for the whole family. +It is only the youngest perhaps who will believe +that "it rains cats and dogs" because somebody<span class="pagenum">[Pg 170]</span> +says so; but a whole family may be misled by +habitual exaggeration of statement. The consequence +is clear. Either they will take up the +habit, from imitation of father or mother, or they +will learn to distrust their fluent parent. But how +safe is everything made by that established habit +of truth in a household which acts like an instinct! +If the parents are, as by a natural necessity, always +accurate in what they say, or, if mistaken, +thankful to be set right, and eager to rectify their +mistake, the children thrive in an atmosphere of +such sincerity and truth: and any one of them to +whom truthfulness may be constitutionally difficult, +has the best chance for the strengthening of +his weakness. Such an one must have sunk under +the least aggravation of his infirmity by the sin of +his parents: and the probability is, that the whole +household would have gone down into moral ruin +together; for it cannot be expected that any natural +aptitude for truth in children should improve, +or even continue, if discouraged by the example +of the parents who ought to hail it as a blessing +upon their house.</p> + +<p>Of all happy households, that is the happiest, +where falsehood is never thought of. All peace is +broken up when once it appears that there is a liar +in the house. All comfort is gone, when suspicion +has once entered; when there must be reserve in +talk, and reservation in belief. Anxious parents, +who are aware of the pains of suspicion, will place<span class="pagenum">[Pg 171]</span> +generous confidence in their children, and receive +what they say freely, unless there is strong reason +to distrust the truth of any one. If such an +occasion should unhappily arise, they must keep +the suspicion from spreading as long as possible; +and avoid disgracing their poor child, while there +is any chance of his cure by their confidential +assistance. He should have their pity and assiduous +help, as if he were suffering under some +disgusting bodily disorder. If he can be cured, he +will become duly grateful for the treatment. If the +endeavour fails, means must of course be taken +to prevent his example doing harm: and then, as +I said, the family peace is broken up, because the +family confidence is gone.</p> + +<p>I fear that, from some cause or another, there +are but few large families where every member is +altogether truthful. Some who are not morally +guilty, are intellectually incapable of accuracy. +But where all are so organised and so trained as +to be wholly reliable, in act and word, they are +a light to all eyes, and a joy to all hearts. They +are a public benefit; for they are a point of +general reliance: and they are privately blessed, +within and without. Without, their life is made +easy by universal trust: and within their home +and their hearts, they have the security of rectitude, +and the gladness of innocence. If we do but +invoke wisdom, she will come, and multiply such +homes in our land.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 172]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_172" name="Page_172"></a>CHAPTER XVII.<br /> +<br /> +CONSCIENTIOUSNESS.</h2> + + +<p>We come now to the greatest and noblest of the +Moral Powers of Man; to that power which makes +him quite a different order of being from any other +that we know of, and which is the glory and crown +of his existence:—his Conscientiousness. The +universal endowment of men with this power is +the true bond of brotherhood of the human race. +Any race of beings who possess in common the +highest quality of which any of them are capable, +are brothers, however much they may differ in all +other respects, and however little some of them +may care about this brotherhood. For those who +do care about it, how clear it is, and how very +interesting to trace! How plain it is that while +men in different parts and ages of the world differ +widely as to what is right, they all have something +in them which prompts them to do what they +believe to be right! Here is a little boy, permitted +to try what he can get by selling five +shillings' worth of oranges:—he points out to the +lady who is buying his last half dozen, that two of +them are spotted.—There was Regulus, the Roman +general, who was taken prisoner by the enemy,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 173]</span> +the Carthaginians. He was trusted to go to Rome, +to treat for an exchange of prisoners, on his +promise that he would return to Carthage,—which +he knew was returning to death,—if the Roman +senate would not grant an exchange of prisoners. +He persuaded the Roman senate <i>not</i> to agree to +the exchange, which he believed would not be for +the advantage of Rome: and then he went back +to Carthage and to death. There is, at this day, +the South Sea Islander,—the young wife who has +been told that it is pious and right to give her +first child to the gods. She has in her all a mother's +feelings, all the love which women long to lavish +on their first babe: but she desires that the infant +should be strangled as soon as born, because she +thinks it her duty. Now, this poor creature is +truly the sister of the other two, though her superstition +is horrible, and the infanticide it leads to is +a great crime. She is shockingly ignorant, and +her mind is not of that high order which would +perceive that there must be something wrong in +going against nature in this way: but, for all +that, she is conscientious; and by her conscientiousness +she is truly a sister in heart to the +honourable Roman general, and the honest orange-seller. +What she needs is knowledge: and what +the whole human race wants is knowledge, to +bring the workings of this great power into harmony +all over the world. At present, we see men +in one place feeding, and in another place burning<span class="pagenum">[Pg 174]</span> +one another,—because they think they ought. +In one place, we see a man with seventy wives,—in +another, a man with one wife,—and in another, +a man remaining a bachelor all his life; and each +one equally supposing that he is doing what is +right. The evil everywhere is in the want of clear +views of what is right. This is an evil which may +and will be remedied, we may hope, in course of +ages. There is nothing that we may not hope +while the power to desire and do what is right is +common to all mankind,—is given to them as an +essential part of the human frame.</p> + +<p>It does not follow, of course, that this power is +equal in all. All but idiots have it, more or less; +but it varies, in different individuals, quite as much +as any other power. No power is more dependant +on care and cultivation for its vigour: but none +varies more from the very beginning. Some of +the worst cases of want of rectitude that I have +known have been in persons so placed as that +everybody naturally supposed they <i>must</i> be good, +and trusted them accordingly. I have known a +girl, brought up by highly principled relatives, in +a house where nothing but good was seen or heard +of, turn out so faulty as to compel one to see that +her power of conscientiousness was the weakest +she had. She had some of it. She was uneasy,—truly +and not hypocritically,—if she did not read +a portion of the bible every day at a certain hour. +She was plain, even to prudery, in her dress: she<span class="pagenum">[Pg 175]</span> +truly honoured old age, and could humble herself +before it: and she studiously, and from a sense of +duty, administered to the wishes of the elder +members of the family, in all matters of arrangement +and manners. But that was all. She was +tricky to a degree I could never estimate or comprehend. +Her little plots and deceptions were +without number and without end. Her temper +was bad, and she took no pains whatever to mend +it, but spent all her exertions in making people as +miserable as possible by her vindictiveness. In +love matters, she reached a point of malice beyond +belief, torturing people's feelings, and getting +them into scrapes, with a gratification to her own +bad mind which could not be concealed under her +demure solemnity of manner. Enough of her! +I will only observe that, though she was brought +up by good people, it does not follow that she was +judiciously managed. The result shows that she +was not. A perfectly wise guardian would have +seen that her faculty of conscientiousness wanted +strengthening, and would have found safe and +innocent employment for those powers of secretiveness +and defiance, and that inordinate love of +approbation, which, as it was, issued in mischief-making.—The +opposite case to hers is that which +touches one with a deeper pity than almost any +spectacle which can be seen on this earth: that of +the child whose strong power of conscientiousness +is directed to wickedness, before it has ability to<span class="pagenum">[Pg 176]</span> +help itself. Think of the little child born in a +cellar, among thieves! It is born full of human +powers; and among these, it has a conscience, +and perhaps a particularly strong one. Suppose it +is brought up to believe that its duty is to provide +money for its parents by stealing. Suppose that, +by five years old, it entirely believes that the most +wrong thing it can do is to come home at dark +without having stolen at least three pocket-handkerchiefs! +Such cases have been known; and +not a few of them.—And it is only an exaggerated +instance of what we very commonly see in history +and the world. The Chief Inquisitor in Spain or +Italy really believed that he was doing his duty in +burning the bodies of heretics for the good of their +souls. Our ancestors thought they were acting +benevolently in putting badge dresses on charity +children. The Pharisees of old were sincere in +their belief that it was wrong to heal a sick man +on the Sabbath. And I have no doubt that in a +future age it will appear that we ourselves are +ignorant and mistaken about some points of our +conduct in which we now sincerely believe that +we are doing what we ought.</p> + +<p>In every household, then, the first consideration +is to cherish the faculty of conscientiousness; and +the next is, to direct it wisely.</p> + +<p>When I speak of cherishing the faculty, I do +not mean that it is always to be stimulated, whether +it be naturally strong or weak. There are cases,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 177]</span> +and they are not few, where the power is stronger +than perhaps any other. In such cases, no stimulating +is required, but only guidance and enlightenment. +There are few sadder spectacles than that +of a suffering being whose conscience has become +so tender as to be superstitious; who lives a life +of fear—of incessant fear of doing wrong. It is +a healthy conscience that we want to produce; a +conscience which shall act naturally, vigorously, +and incessantly, like an instinct; so as to leave +all the other faculties to act freely, without continual +conflict and question whether their action +be right or wrong. A child who is perpetually +driven to examine all he thinks and does will become +full of himself, prone to discontent with +himself, and to servile dependence on the opinion +of those whom he thinks wiser than himself. What +is such a child to do when he comes out into the +world, and must guide himself? At best, he will +go trembling through life, without courage or self-respect: +and something worse is to be apprehended. +It is to be apprehended that if he makes +any slip—and such an one will be sure to think +that he does make slips—he will be unable to bear +the pain and uncertainty, and will grow reckless. +A clergyman, of wide and deep experience, who +was the depository of much confidence, told me +once (and I have never forgotten it), that some of +the worst cases of desperate vice he had ever +known were those of young men tenderly and<span class="pagenum">[Pg 178]</span> +piously reared, who came out from home anxious +about the moral dangers of the world and the +fears of their parents, and who, having fallen into +the slightest fault, and being utterly wretched in +consequence, lost all courage and hope, and +drowned their misery in indulgence of the worst +part of themselves. He felt this so strongly that +he solemnly conjured me to use any influence I +might ever have over parents in encouraging them +to trust their children with their innocence, and +to have faith in the best faculties of human nature. +This entreaty still rings in my ears, and leads +me so to use any influence I may now have over +parents.</p> + +<p>Is it not true that the strongest delight the +human being ever has is in well-doing? Is it not +true that this pleasure, like the pleasures of the +eye and ear, the pleasures of benevolence, the +pleasures of the understanding and the imagination, +will seek its own continuance and gratification, +if it have fair play? Is it not true that pain +of conscience is the worst of human sufferings? +and that this pain will be naturally avoided, like +every other pain, if only the faculty have fair play?</p> + +<p>The worst of it is, the faculty seldom has fair +play. The fatal notion that human beings are +more prone to evil than inclined to good, and the +fatal practice of creating factitious sins, are dreadfully +in the way of natural health of conscience. +Teach a child that his nature is evil, and you will<span class="pagenum">[Pg 179]</span> +make it evil. Teach him to fear and despise himself, +and you will make him timid and suspicious. +Impose upon him a number of factitious considerations +of duty, and you will perplex his moral +sense, and make him tired of a self-government +which has no certainty and no satisfaction in it. +It is a far safer and higher way to trust to his +natural moral sense, and cultivate his moral taste: +to let him grow morally strong by leaving him +morally free, and to make him, by sympathy and +example, in love with whatever things are pure, +honest, and lovely. What the parent has to do +with is the moral habits of the child, and not to +meddle with his faculties. Give them fair scope +to grow, and they will flourish: and, let it be +remembered, man has no faculties which are, in +themselves and altogether, evil. His faculties are +all good, if they are well harmonised. Instead +of talking to him, or leading him to talk in his +infancy of his own feelings as something that he +has to take charge of, fix his mind on the things +from which his feelings will of themselves arise. +By all means, lead him to be considerate: but +not about his own state, but rather about the +objects which cause that state. If he sees at home +integrity entering into every act and thought, and +trust and love naturally ensuing, he will enjoy +integrity and live in it, as the native of a southern +climate enjoys sunshine and lives in it. If, as +must happen, failure of integrity comes under his<span class="pagenum">[Pg 180]</span> +notice in one direction or another, he will see the +genuine disgust and pain which those about him +feel at the spectacle, and dishonesty will be disgusting +and painful to him. And so on, through all +good and bad qualities of men. And this will +keep him upright and pure far more certainly than +any warnings from you that he will be dishonest +and impure, unless he is constantly watching his +feelings, and striving against the danger.</p> + +<p>In the beginning of his course, he must be +aided,—in the early days when the action of all +his faculties is weak and uncertain: and this aid +cannot be given too early; for we are not aware +of any age at which a child has not some sense of +moral right and wrong. Mrs. Wesley taught her +infants in arms to "cry softly." Without admiring +the discipline, we may profit by the hint as to the +moral capability of the child. When no older +than this, he may have satisfaction, without knowing +why, from submitting quietly to be washed, +and to go to bed. When he becomes capable of +employing himself purposely, he may have satisfaction +in doing his business before he goes to his +play, and a sense of uneasiness in omitting the +duty. I knew a little boy in petticoats who had +no particular taste for the alphabet, but began to +learn it as a matter of course, without any pretence +of relish. One day his lesson was, for some reason, +rather short. His conscience was not satisfied. +When his elder brother was dismissed, Willie<span class="pagenum">[Pg 181]</span> +brought his letters again, but found he was not +wanted, and might play. The little fellow sighed; +and then a bright thought struck him. (I think +I see him now, in his white frock, with his large +thoughtful eyes lighting up!) He said joyfully—"Willie +say his lesson to hisself." He carried his +little stool into a corner, put his book on his knees, +and finished by honestly covering up the large +letters with both hands, and saying aloud two or +three new ones. Then he went to his play, all the +merrier for the discharge of his conscience.</p> + +<p>There is no reason why it should not be thus +with all the duties of a child. The great point is +that he should see that the peace and joy of the +household depend on ease of conscience. His +father takes no pleasure till his work is done, and +tells the truth to his hurt. His mother seeks to +be just to a slandered neighbour, or leaves her rest +by the fireside to aid a sick one. Granny's eyes +sparkle, or a flush comes over her withered cheek, +when she tells the children what good men have +endured rather than pretend what they did not +believe, or betray a trust. The maid has taken +twopence too much in change, and is uneasy till +she has returned it, or she refuses to promise +something, lest she should be unable to keep her +word. His elder sister refuses something good at +a neighbour's, because her mother would think it +unwholesome while she is not quite well. His +elder brother asks him to throw just a little cold<span class="pagenum">[Pg 182]</span> +water upon him in the mornings, because he is so +terribly sleepy that he cannot get up without. +And he sees what a welcome is given to a very +poor acquaintance, and he feels his own heart beat +with reverence for this very poor neighbour, because +his father happens to know that the man +refused five pounds for his vote at the last election. +If the child is surrounded by a moral atmosphere +like this, he will derive a strong moral life from +it, and a satisfaction to his highest moral faculties +which it is scarcely possible that he should +forego for the pleasures of sin. The indolent +child will, in such a home, lose all idea of pleasure +in being idle, and soon find no pleasure till his +work is done. The slovenly child will become +uneasy under a dirty skin, and the thoughtless +one in being behind his time. Common integrity +we may suppose to be a matter of course in a +household like this; and, as every virtuous faculty +naturally advances "from strength to strength," +we may hope that the abode will be blessed, as +the children grow up, with a very uncommon +integrity.</p> + +<p>Though the parent will avoid making the child +unnecessarily conscious of its own conscience, she +(for this is chiefly the mother's business) will remember +that her child has his difficulties and perplexities +about the working of this, as of all his +other imperfectly trained powers; and she will +lay herself open to his confidence. Sometimes he<span class="pagenum">[Pg 183]</span> +is not clear what he ought to do: sometimes he +feels himself too weak to do it: sometimes he is +miserable because he has done wrong: and then +again, he and some one else may differ as to +whether he has done wrong or right. And again, +he may have seen something in other people's +conduct which shocks, or puzzles, or delights him. +Oh! let the mother throw open her heart to confidences +like these! Let her be sure that the +moments of such confidence are golden moments, +for which a mother may be more thankful than for +anything else she can ever receive from her child. +Let it be her care that every child has opportunity +to speak freely and privately to her of such things. +Some mothers make it a practice to go themselves +to fetch the candle when the children are in bed; +and then, if wanted, they stay a few minutes, and +hear any confessions, or difficulties, and receive +any disclosures, of which the little mind may +wish to disburden itself before the hour of sleep. +Whether then or at another time, it is well worth +pondering what a few minutes of serious consultation +may do in enlightening and rousing or +calming the conscience,—in rectifying and cherishing +the moral life. It may be owing to such +moments as these that humiliation is raised into +humility, apathy into moral enterprise, pride into +awe, and scornful blame into Christian pity. +Happy is the mother who can use such moments +as she ought!<span class="pagenum">[Pg 184]</span></p> + +<p>There remains, after all, the dread and wonder +what such children are to think and do when they +must come to know what is the average conscientiousness +of the world. This is a subject of fear +and pain to most good parents. But they must +consider that their children will not see the world +as they do all at once:—not till they have learned, +like their parents, to allow for, and account for, +what happens in the world. The innocent and +the upright put a good construction on as much +as possible of what they see; and are often more +right in this than their clearer-sighted elders who +know more of the tendencies of things. The shock +will not come all at once. They hear now of +broken contracts, dishonest bargains, venal elections, +mercenary marriages, and, perhaps, profligate +seductions. They know that there are drunkards, +and cheats, and hypocrites, and cruel brutes, in +society: and these things hardly affect them, +are hardly received by them, because they are +surrounded by honest people, and cannot feel +what is beyond. And when they must become +more truly aware of these things, they will still +trust in and admire some whom they look up to, +with more or less reason. The knowledge of +iniquity will come to them gradually, and all the +more safely the less sympathy they have with it.</p> + +<p>If it be the pain, and not the danger, of this +knowledge that the parents dread, they must make +up their minds to it for their children. Surely<span class="pagenum">[Pg 185]</span> +they do not expect them to go through life without +pain: and a bitter suffering it will be to them to +see what wretchedness is in the world through the +vices and ignorance of men; through their want +of conscientiousness, or their errors of conscience. +Such pain must be met and endured; and who is +likely to meet it so bravely, and endure it so +hopefully, as those who are fully aware that every +man's heaven or hell is within him—giving a +hope that heaven will expand as wisdom grows—and +who carry within themselves that peace which +the world "can neither give nor take away?"<span class="pagenum">[Pg 186]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_186" name="Page_186"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.<br /> +<br /> +INTELLECTUAL TRAINING.—ITS REQUISITES.</h2> + + +<p>We are all accustomed to speak of the Intellect +and moral powers of man as if they were so distinct +from one another that we can deal with each +set of powers without touching the other.</p> + +<p>It is true that there is a division between the +intellectual and moral powers of man, as there is +between one moral power and another. It is true +that we can think of them separately, and treat +them separately: but it does not follow that they +will work separately. No part of the brain will +act alone, no part begins its own action. It is +always put in action by another part previously +at work, and it excites in its turn some other +portion. While we sleep, that part of the brain +is at work on which depend those animal functions +which are always going on: and, as we know +by our dreams, other portions work with this, +giving us ideas and feelings during sleep—perhaps +as many as by day, if we could only recollect +them. The animal portions of the brain set the +intellectual and moral organs to work, and these +act upon each other, so that there is no separating +their action,—no possibility of employing one<span class="pagenum">[Pg 187]</span> +faculty at a time without help from any other. +As memory cannot act till attention has been +awakened,—in other words, as people cannot +remember what they have never observed and +received, so the timid cannot understand, unless +it is in a docile and calm state; nor meditate well +without the exercise of candour and truthfulness; +nor imagine nobly without the help of veneration +and hope. If we take any great intellectual work +and examine it, we shall see what a variety of +faculties, moral as well as intellectual, have gone +to the making of it. Take "Paradise Lost," a work +so glorious for the loftiness of its imagination, and +the extent of its learning, and the beauty of its +illustrations, and the harmony of its versification! +These are its intellectual beauties: but look what +moral beauties are inseparable from these. Look +at the veneration,—not only towards God, but +towards all holiness, and power, and beauty! +Look at the purity, the love, the hopefulness, the +strain of high honour throughout! And this +intellectual and moral beauty are so blended, that +we see how impossible it would be for the one to +exist without the other. It is just so in the human +character—the intellect of a human being cannot +be of a high order, (though some particular faculties +may be very strong) if the moral nature is +low and feeble: and the moral state cannot be a +lofty one where the intellect is torpid.</p> + +<p>It does not follow from this that to be very<span class="pagenum">[Pg 188]</span> +good a child must be exceedingly clever and +"highly educated," as we call it. There are plenty +of highly-educated people who are not morally +good; and there are many honest and amiable +and industrious people who cannot read and write. +The thing is, we misuse the word "Education." +Book-learning is compatible with great poverty +of intellect; and there may be a very fine understanding, +great power of attention and observation, +and possibly, though rarely, of reflection, in +a person who has never learned to read,—if the +moral goodness of that person has put his mind +into a calm and teachable and happy state, and +his powers of thought have been stimulated by +active affections; if, as we say, his heart has +quickened his head. These are truths very important +to know; and they ought to be consolatory +to parents who are grieved and alarmed because +they cannot send their children to school,—supposing +that their intellectual part must suffer and +go to waste for want of school training and +instruction from books. I will say simply and +openly what I think about this.</p> + +<p>I think that no children, in any rank of life, +can acquire so much book-knowledge at home as +at a good school, or have their intellectual faculties +so well roused and trained. I have never seen +an instance of such high attainment in languages, +mathematics, history, or philosophy in +young people taught at home,—even by the best<span class="pagenum">[Pg 189]</span> +masters,—as in those who have been in a good +school. Without going into the reasons of this, +which would lend us out of our way here, I would +fully admit the fact.</p> + +<p>There are two ways of taking it. First, it +cannot be helped. A much larger number of +people are unable to send their children to school +than can do so. The queen cannot send her children +to school: and the children of the peerage +are under great disadvantage. The girls cannot, +or do not, go from home; and the boys go only +to one or another of a very small choice of public +schools, where they must run tremendous risks to +both morals and intellect. Then there are multitudes +of families, in town and country, among +rich and poor, where the children must be taught +at home. The number is much larger of the children +who do not go to school than of those who do. +If we consider, again, how large a proportion of +schools, taking them from the highest to the lowest, +are so bad that children learn little in them, it is +clear that the home-trained intellects are out of +all proportion more numerous than the school-trained.</p> + +<p>The other way of looking at the matter is in +order to inquire what school advantages may be +brought home—what there is in the school that +children may have the benefit of at home.</p> + +<p>The fundamental difference between school and +home is clear enough. At school, everything is<span class="pagenum">[Pg 190]</span> +done by rule; by a law which was made without +a view to any particular child, and which governs +all alike: whereas, at home, the government is +not one of law, working on from year to year +without change, but of love, or, at least, of the +mind of the parents, varying with circumstances, +and with the ages and dispositions of the children. +There is no occasion to point out here how great +are the moral advantages of a good home in comparison +with the best of schools. Our business +now is with the intellectual training. Can the +advantages of school law be brought into the +home?</p> + +<p>I think they may, to a certain extent: and I +think it of great importance that they should. +Law will not do all at home that it does at school. +It is known to be new made, for the sake of the +parties under it; and it cannot possibly work so +undeviatingly in a family as in a school; and the +children of a family, no two of whom are of the +same age, cannot have their faculties so stimulated +to achieve irksome labour as in a large class +of comrades of the same age and standing. But +still, rule and regularity will do much: and when +we consider the amount of drudgery that children +have to get through in acquiring the elements of +knowledge, we shall feel it to be only humane and +fair to give them any aid that can be afforded +through the plans of the household.</p> + +<p>Those kinds and parts of knowledge which<span class="pagenum">[Pg 191]</span> +interest the reasoning faculties and the imagination +are not in question just now. They come by and +by, and can better take care of themselves, or are +more sure to be taken care of by others, than the +drudgery which is the first stage in all learning. +The drudgery comes first; and it is wise and kind +to let it come soon enough. The quickness of +eye, and tenacity and readiness of memory, which +belong to infancy should be made use of while at +their brightest, for gaining such knowledge as is +to be had by the mere eye, ear, and memory. +How easily can the most ordinary child learn a +hymn or other piece of poetry by heart;—sometimes +before it can speak plain, and very often +indeed before it can understand the meaning! +What a pity that this readiness should not be +used,—that the child, for instance, should not +learn to count, and to read, and to say the multiplication +table, while it can learn these things +with the least trouble! We must remember that +while we see the child to be about a great and +heavy work, the child himself does not know this, +and cannot be oppressed by the thought. All he +knows about is the little bit he learns every day. +And that little bit is easy to him, if the support of +law be given him. It is here that law must come +in to help him. He should, if possible, be saved +all uncertainty, all conflict in his little mind, as to +his daily business. If there is a want of certainty +and punctuality about his lessons, there will be room<span class="pagenum">[Pg 192]</span> +for the thought of something which, for the +moment, he would like better; and again, his young +faculties will become confused and irregular in their +working from uncertainty of seasons and of plans. +If there can be a particular place, and a particular +time for him, every day but Sundays, and he is +never put off, his faculties will come to their work +with a freshness and steadiness which nothing but +habit will secure. A law of work which leaves +him no choice, but sets all his faculties free for +his business, saves him half the labour of it; +as it does in after life to those who are so blessed +as to be destined to necessary, and not voluntary +labour. In houses where there cannot be a room +set apart for the lessons, perhaps there may be +a corner. If there cannot be any place, perhaps +there may be a time: and the time should be that +which can best be secured from interruption. +Where the father is so fond of his children, and +so capable of self-denial for their sakes as to devote +an hour or two of his evenings to the instruction +of his children, he may rely upon it that he is +heaping up blessings for himself with every minute +of those hours. His presence, the presence of +the worker of the household, is equal to school +and home influence together. The scantiness of +his leisure makes the law; and his devotedness in +using it thus makes the inestimable home influence. +Under his teaching, if it be regular and +intelligent, head and heart will come on together,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 193]</span> +to his encouragement now, and his great future +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>When I come to speak of habits, by and by, it +will be seen that this introduction of law at home +is to relate only to affairs of habit, and intellectual +attainment. The misfortune of school is that the +affections and feelings must come under the control +of law, instead of the guidance of domestic +love. It would be a wanton mischief indeed to +spoil the freedom of home by stretching rule and +law there beyond their proper province.</p> + +<p>There are houses, many houses, and not always +very poor ones, where the parents think they +cannot provide for the intellectual improvement +of their children, and mourn daily over the thought. +I wish such parents could be induced to consider +well what intellectual improvement is, and then +they would see how much they may do for their +children's minds without book, pen, or paper. It +goes against me to suppose children brought up +without knowledge of reading and writing; and I +trust this is not likely to be the fate of any children +of the parents who read this. But it is as well to +suppose the extreme case, in order to see whether +even people who cannot read and write must remain +ignorant and debarred from the privileges of mind.</p> + +<p>In America I saw many families of settlers, +where the children were strangely circumstanced. +There was always plenty to eat and drink; the +barns were full of produce, and there were horses<span class="pagenum">[Pg 194]</span> +in the meadow; and every child would have hereafter +a goodly portion of land: but there were +no servants, and there could be no "education," +because the mother and children had to do all the +work of the house. In one of these homes the +day was spent thus.—The father (a man of great +property) went out upon his land, before daylight, +taking with him his little sons of six and seven +years old, who earned their breakfasts by leading +the horses down to water, and turning out the +cows, and sweeping the stable: and, when the +milking was done (by a man on the farm, I +think), they brought up the milk. Meantime, their +mother, an educated English lady, took up the +younger children, and swept the kitchen, lighted +the fire, and cooked the beef-steak for her husband's +breakfast, and boiled the eggs which the +little ones brought in from the paddock. Soon +after seven, the farmer and boys were gone again: +and then the mother set down in the middle of +the kitchen floor a large bowl of hot water and +the breakfast things: and the little girl of <i>four</i>, +and her sister of <i>two</i>, set to work. The elder +washed the cups and dishes, and the younger +wiped them, as carefully and delicately as if she +had been ten years older. She never broke +anything, or failed to make all bright and +dry. Then they went to make their own little +beds: they could just manage that, but not the +larger ones. Meantime, their mother was baking,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 195]</span> +or washing, or brewing, or making soap,—boiling +it in a cauldron over a fire in the wood. There +were no grocers' shops within scores of miles. In +the season, the family had to make sugar in the +forest from their maple trees; and wine from the +fruit they grew: and there were the apples, in +immense quantities, to be split and cored, and +hung up in strings for winter use. Every morning +in the week was occupied with one or another of +these employments; and in the midst of them, +dinner had to be cooked, and ready by noon: +another beef-steak, with apple-sauce or onions, +and hot "corn" bread (made of Indian meal), and +a squash pie, or something of the sort. There +was enough to do, all the afternoon, in finishing +off the morning's work: and there must be another +steak for tea or supper.—The children had been +helping all day: and now their parents wished to +devote this time,—after six p.m.—to their benefit. +It is true, the mother had now to sew; this being +her only time for making and mending: but she +got out the slates and lesson-books, and put one +little girl and boy before her, while their father +took the other two, and set them a sum and a +copy on the slate. But alas! by this time, no +one of the party could keep awake. They did try. +The parents were so extremely anxious for their +children that they did strive: but nature was +overpowered. After a few struggles, the children +were sent to bed; and in the very midst of a<span class="pagenum">[Pg 196]</span> +sentence, the mother's head would sink over her +work, and the father's down upon the table, in +irresistible sleep. Both had been very fond of +chess, in former days: and the husband bade his +wife put away her work, and try a game of chess. +But down went the board, and off slid the men, in +the middle of a game! Now,—what could be done +for the children's education here? In time, there +was hope that roads and markets would be opened +where the produce of the farm might be sold, and +money obtained to send the children to schools, +some hundreds of miles off: or, at least, that +neighbours enough might settle round about to +enable the township to invite a school-master. +But what could be done meantime?</p> + +<p>So much might be, and was, done as would +astonish people who think that intellectual education +means school learning. I do not at all wish +to extenuate the misfortune of these children in +being doomed to write a bad hand, if any; to be +slow at accounts; to have probably no taste for +reading; and no knowledge, except by hearsay, of +the treasures of literature. But I do say that +they were not likely to grow up ignorant and +stupid. They knew every tree in the forest, and +every bird, and every weed. They knew the +habits of all domestic animals. They could tell at +a glance how many scores of pigeons there were +in a flock, when clouds of these birds came sailing +towards the wood. They did not want to +measure distances, for they knew them by the eye.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 197]</span> +They could give their minds earnestly to what +they were about; and ponder, and plan, and +imagine, and contrive. Their faculties were all +awake. And they obtained snatches of stories +from father and mother, about the heroes of old +times, and the history of England and America. +They worshipped God, and loved Christ, and were +familiar with the Bible. Now, there are some +things here that very highly educated people +among us might be glad to be equal to: and the +very busiest father, the hardest-driven mother in +England may be able, in the course of daily business, +to rouse and employ the faculties of their +children,—their attention, understanding, reflection, +memory and imagination,—so as to make +their intellects worth more than those of many +children who are successful at school. Their +chance is doubled if books are opened to them: +but if not, there is nothing to despair about.</p> + +<p>I was much struck by a day's intellectual education +of a little boy of seven who was thrown out +of his usual course of study and play. The family +were in the country,—in a house which they had +to themselves for a month, in beautiful scenery, +where they expected to be so continually out of +doors that the children's toys were left at home. +Some days of unintermitting, drenching rain came; +and on one of these days, the little fellow looked +round him, after breakfast, and said, "Papa, I +don't exactly see what I can do." He would have +been thankful to say his lessons: but papa was<span class="pagenum">[Pg 198]</span> +absolutely obliged to write the whole day; and +mama was up-stairs nursing his little sister, who +had met with an accident. His papa knew well +how to make him happy. He set him to find out +the area of the house, and of every room in it. +He lent him a three-foot rule, showed him how +he might find the thickness of the walls, and gave +him a slate and pencil. This was enough. All +day, he troubled nobody, but went quietly about, +measuring and calculating, and writing down;—from +morning till dinner,—from dinner till supper: +and by that time he had done. When they could +go out to measure the outside, they found him +right to an inch: and the same with every room +in the house.—This boy was no genius. He was +an earnest, well-trained boy: and who does not +see that if he and his parents had lived in an +American forest, or in the severest poverty at +home, he would have been, in the best sense, an +educated boy! He would not have understood +several languages, as he does now: but his faculties +would have been busy and cultivated, if he had +never in his life seen any book but the Bible.—Anxious +parents may take comfort from the +thought that nothing ever exists or occurs which +may not be made matter of instruction to the mind +of man. The mind and the material being furnished +to the parents' hands, it is their business to +bring them together, whether books be among +the material or not.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 199]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_199" name="Page_199"></a>CHAPTER XIX.<br /> +<br /> +INTELLECTUAL TRAINING. ORDER OF DEVELOPMENT. +THE PERCEPTIVE FACULTIES.</h2> + + +<p>In beginning a child's intellectual education, +the parent must constantly remember to carry +on his care of the frame, spoken of in a former +chapter. The most irritable and tender part of a +child's frame is its brain; and on the welfare of +its brain every thing else depends. It should not +be forgotten that the little creature was born with +a soft head; and that it takes years for the contents +of that skull to become completely guarded +by the external bones, and sufficiently grown and +strengthened to bear much stress. Nature points +out what the infant's brain requires, and what it +can bear; and if the parents are able to discern +and follow the leadings of nature, all will be well. +The most certain thing is that there is no safety +in any other course.</p> + +<p>In their anxiety to bring up any lagging faculty,—to +cherish any weak power,—parents are apt to +suppose those faculties weak, for whose development +they are looking too soon. It grieves me to +see conscientious parents, who govern their own +lives by reasoning, stimulating a young child to<span class="pagenum">[Pg 200]</span> +reason long before the proper time. The reflective +and reasoning faculties are among the last that +should naturally come into use; and the only safe +way is to watch for their first activity, and then let it +have scope. One of the finest children I ever saw,—a +stout handsome boy, with a full set of vigorous +faculties, was, at five years old, in danger of being +spoiled in a strange sort of way. The process was +stopped in time to save his intellect and his morals; +but not before it had strewn his youthful life with +difficulties from which he need never have suffered. +This boy heard a great deal of reasoning always +going on; and he seldom or never saw any children, +except in parties, or in the street. His +natural imitation of the talk of grown up people +was encouraged; and from the time he could +speak, he saw in the whole world,—in all the +objects that met his senses,—only things to reason +about. He gathered flowers, not so much because +he liked them as because they might be discoursed +about. He could not shut the door, or put on his +pinafore when bid, till the matter was argued, and +the desired act proved to be reasonable. The check +was, as I have said, given in time: but he had +much to do to bring up his perceptive faculties +and his mechanical habits to the point required in +even a decent education. He had infinite trouble +in learning to spell, and in mastering all the +elements of knowledge which are acquired by the +memory: and his writing a good hand, and being<span class="pagenum">[Pg 201]</span> +ready at figures, or apt at learning a modern +language by the ear, was hopeless. He would +doubtless have done all these well, if his faculties +had been exercised in their proper order;—that +is, in the order which nature indicates,—and +vindicates.</p> + +<p>And now,—what is that order?</p> + +<p>The Perceptive faculties come first, into activity. +Do we not all remember that colours gave us more +intense pleasure in our early childhood than they +have ever done since? Most of us can remember +back to the time when we were four years old,—or +three; and some even two. What is it that we remember? +With one, it is a piece of gay silk, or +printed cotton or china; or a bed of crocuses;—or +we remember the feel of a piece of velvet or fur, or +something rough;—or the particular shape of some +leaf;—or the amazing weight of a globule of +quicksilver;—or the immense distance from one +end of the room to the other. I, for one, remember +several things that happened when I was +between two and three years old: and most of +these were sensations, exciting passions. I doubt +whether I ever felt keener delight than in passing +my fingers round a flat button, covered with black +velvet, on the top of a sister's bonnet. I remember +lighting upon the sensation, if one may say so; +and the intense desire afterwards to be feeling the +button. And just at that time I was sent into +the country for my health; and I can now tell<span class="pagenum">[Pg 202]</span> +things about the first day in the cottage which no +one can ever have told to me. I tried to walk +round a tree (an elm, I believe), clasping the +tree with both arms: and nothing that has happened +to-day is more vivid to me than the feel of +the rough bark to the palms of my hands, and the +entanglement of the grass to my feet. And then +at night there was the fearful wonder at the feel +of the coarse calico sheets, and at the creaking of +the turn-up bedstead when I moved.—After I +came home, when I was two years and nine months +old, I saw, one day, the door of the spare bed-room +ajar, and I pushed it open and went in. I was +walking about the house because I had a pair of +new shoes on, and I liked to hear their pit-pat, +and to make sure that I could walk in them, +though they were slippery. The floor of the spareroom +was smooth and somewhat polished; and it +was—(at least to my eyes—) a large room. I was +half-frightened when I saw that the blinds were +down. But there was a fire; and standing by the +fire, at the further end, was an old woman—(or +to me she looked old)—with a muslin handkerchief +crossed over her gown: and in her arms she held +a bundle of flannel. The curtains of the bed were +drawn;—the fawn-coloured moreen curtains with +a black velvet edge, which I sometimes stroked +for a treat. The old woman beckoned to me; and +I wished to go; but I thought I could never walk +all that way on the polished floor without a tumble.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 203]</span> +I remember how wide I stretched out my arms, +and how far apart I set my feet, and how I got to +the old woman at last. With her foot she pushed +forwards a tiny chair, used as a footstool, embroidered +over with sprawling green leaves; and there +I sat down: and the old woman laid the bundle +of flannel across my lap. With one hand she held +it there safe, and with the other she uncovered +the little red face of a baby. Though the sight +set every pulse in my body beating, I do not remember +feeling any fear,—though I was always +afraid of everything. It was a passionate feeling +of wonder, and a sort of tender delight;—delight +at being noticed and having it on my lap, perhaps, +as much as at the thing itself. How it ended, I +do not know. I only remember further seeing +with amazement, that somebody was in the bed,—that +there was a nightcap on the pillow,—though +it was day-time. These details may seem trifling: +but, if we want to know what faculties are vigorous +in infancy, it is as well to learn, in any way we +can, what children feel and think at the earliest +age we can arrive at. One other instance of vivid +perception stands out among many in my childhood +so remarkably as to be perhaps instructive: +and the more so because I was not endowed with +quick senses, or strong perceptive powers, but, on +the contrary, discouraged my teachers by dullness +and inattention, and a constant tendency to reverie. +I was always considered a remarkably unobservant +child.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 204]</span></p> + +<p>I slept with the nursemaid in a room at the +top of the house which looked eastwards: and +the baby brother mentioned above, now just able +to walk, slept in a crib by the bedside. One +summer morning I happened to wake before +sunrise, and thought it very strange to see the +maid asleep; the next thing I remember was +walking over the boards with bare feet, and seeing +some little pink toes peeping out through the rails +of the crib. I gently pinched them, and somehow +managed to keep the child quiet when he reared +himself up from his pillow; he must have caught +some of the spirit of the prank, for he made no +noise. I helped him to scramble down from the +crib, and led him to the window, and helped him +to scramble upon a chair: and then I got up +beside him; and, by using all my strength, I +opened the window. How chill the air was! and +how hard and sharp the window-sill felt to my +arms! We were so high above the street that I +dared not look down; but oh! what a sight we +saw by looking abroad over the tops of the houses +to the rising ground beyond! The sun must have +been coming up, for the night-clouds were of the +richest purple, turning to crimson; and in one +part there seemed to be a solid edge of gold. I +have seen the morning and evening skies of all +the four quarters of the world, but this is, in my +memory, the most gorgeous of all, though it could +not in fact have been so. I whispered all I knew<span class="pagenum">[Pg 205]</span> +about God making the sun come up every morning; +and I certainly supposed the child to sympathise +with me in the thrilling awe of the moment: +but it could not have been so. I have some remembrance +of the horrible difficulty of getting +the window down again, and of hoisting up my companion +into his crib: and I can distinctly recal +the feelings of mingled contempt and fear with +which I looked upon the maid, who had slept +through all this; and how cold my feet were when +I crept into bed again.</p> + +<p>Now, if this is what children are, it seems plain +that the faculties by which they perceive objects +so vividly should be simply trained to a good use. +The parent has little more to do than to see that +Nature is not hindered in her working: to see +that the faculties are awake, and that a sufficient +variety is offered for them to employ themselves +upon. Nothing like what is commonly called +teaching is required here, or can do anything but +harm at present. If the mother is at work, and +the children are running in and out of the garden, +it is only saying to the little toddler, "Now bring +me a blue flower;—now bring me a yellow flower;—now +bring me a green leaf." At another time, +she will ask for a round stone; or a thick stick; +or a thin stick. And sometimes she will blow a +feather, and let it fall again: or she will blow a +dandelion-head all to pieces, and quite away. If +she is wise, she will let the child alone, to try its<span class="pagenum">[Pg 206]</span> +own little experiments, and learn for itself what +is hard and what is soft; what is heavy and light; +hot and cold; and what it can do with its little +limbs and quick senses. Taking care, of course, +that it does not injure itself, and that it has objects +within reach in sufficient variety, she cannot +do better, at this season of its life, than let it be +busy in its own way. I saw a little fellow, one +day, intently occupied for a whole breakfast-time, +and some time afterwards, in trying to put the +key of the house-door into the key-hole of the +tea-caddy. When he gave the matter up, and not +before, his mother helped him to see why he could +not do it. If she had taken the door-key from +him at first, he would have missed a valuable +lesson. At this period of existence, the children +of rich and poor have, or may have, about equal +advantages, under the care of sensible parents. +They can be busy about anything. There is +nothing that cannot be made a plaything of, and +a certain means of knowledge, if the faculties be +awake. If the child be dull, it must, of course, +be tempted to play. If the faculties be in their +natural state of liveliness, the mother has only to +be aware that the little creature must be busy +while it is awake, and to see that it has variety +enough of things (the simpler the better) to handle, +and look at, and listen to, and experiment upon.</p> + +<p>The perceptive faculties have a relation to other +objects than those which are presented to the five<span class="pagenum">[Pg 207]</span> +senses. It is very well for children to be picking +up from day to day knowledge about colours and +forms, and the hardness and weight of substances, +and the habits of animals, and the growth of +plants;—the great story, in short, of what passes +before their eyes, and appeals to their ears, and +impresses them through the touch: but there is +another range of knowledge appropriate to the +perceptive faculties. There are many facts that +can be perceived through another medium than +the eye, the ear, or the hand. Facts of number +and quantity, for instance, are perceived (after a +time, if not at first) without illustration by objects +of sight or sound: and it is right, and kind to the +child, to help him to a perception of these facts +early, while the perceiving faculties are in their +first vigour. There is no hardship in this, if the +thing is done in moderation: and in many cases, +this exertion of the perceptive faculties is attended +with a keen satisfaction. I have known an idiot +child, perfectly infantine in his general ways, +amuse himself half the day long with employing +his perceptions of number and quantity. He, +poor child, was incapable of being taught anything +as a lesson: he did not understand speech,—beyond +a very few words: but the exercise of +such faculties as he had—(and the strongest he +had were those of Order, and Perception of +number, quantity and symmetry) was the happiness +of his short and imperfect life: and the<span class="pagenum">[Pg 208]</span> +exercise of the same faculties,—moderate and +natural exercise,—may make part of the happiness +of every child's life.</p> + +<p>It is very well to use the faculty of eye and ear +as an introduction to the use of the inner perceptions,—so +to speak. For instance, it is well to +teach a child the multiplication-table, by the ear +as well as the understanding:—to teach it by rote, +(as one teaches a tune without words), as an +avenue to the mystery of numbers: but the pleasure +to the pupil is in perceiving the relations of +numbers. In the same manner, the eye may be +used for the same purpose; as when the mother +teaches by pins on the table, or by peas, or peppercorns, +that two and two make four; and that +three fours, or two sixes, or four threes, all make +twelve: but the pleasure to the pupil is in perceiving +the relations of these numbers without +pins or peppercorns,—in the head; and in going +on till he has mastered all the numbers in the +multiplication-table,—perceiving them in the +depths of his mind, without light or sound,—without +images or words. Children who are +capable of mental arithmetic delight in it, before +their minds are tired:—and the moment the mind +is tired, the exercise should stop.</p> + +<p>About quantity, the same methods may be used. +At first, there must be measurement, to prove to +the child the relation of quantities: but to what +a point of precision the mind may arrive, after<span class="pagenum">[Pg 209]</span> +having once perceived the truth of quantities and +spaces, is seen in the fact that astronomers can +infallibly predict eclipses centuries before they +happen. Another department of what is called +exact knowledge comprehends the relations of +time. This is another case in which idiots have +proved to us that there is an inner perception of +time,—a faculty which works pleasurably when +once set to work. One idiot who had lived near +a striking clock, and was afterwards removed from +all clocks, and did not know a watch by sight, +went on to the end of his life imitating the striking +of the hour regularly, with as much precision as +the sun marks it upon the dial. Another who +never had sense enough to know of the existence +of clock or watch, could never be deceived about +the precise time of day. Under all changes of +place and households with their habits, he did +and looked for the same things at exactly the +same moment of every day. And by this faculty +it is that even little children learn the clock;—a +process which, from its very nature, could never +be learned by rote. In these matters, again, the +children of the poor can be as well trained as +those of the rich. Every where, and under all +circumstances, people can measure and compute. +The boy must do it if he is to practise any art or +trade whatever; and in every household, there is, +or ought to be, enough of economy,—of measuring, +and cutting out, and counting and calculating, for<span class="pagenum">[Pg 210]</span> +the girl to exercise her faculty of perception of +number and quantity. The understanding of +money is no mean exercise, in itself. In one +rank, we see the able builder, carpenter, and +mechanician, practised in these departments of +perception: and in another we see the astronomer +detecting and marking out the courses of the +stars, and understanding the mighty mechanism +of the heavens, as if he had himself trodden all +the pathways of the sky. It is wise and kind to +use the early vigour of these faculties—the powers +which perceive facts,—up to the limit of satisfaction, +stopping short always of fatigue.</p> + +<p>This is the season too, and these are the faculties, +to be employed in learning by rote. Learning +by rote is nothing of a drudgery now compared +with what it is afterwards;—for the ear is quick, +the eye is free and at liberty; the memory is +retentive, and the understanding is not yet pressing +for its gratification. At this season too, as has +been before observed, the child does not look forward, +nor comprehend what it is attempting. The +present hour, with its little portion of occupation, +is all that it sees: and it accomplishes vast things, +bit by bit, which it would never attempt if it knew +the sum of the matter. No one would learn to +speak if he knew all that speech comprehends: +yet every child learns to speak, easily and naturally. +Thus it is with every art, every science, +every department of action and knowledge. The<span class="pagenum">[Pg 211]</span> +beginning,—the drudgery—should be got over at +the time when it costs least fatigue. And this is +why we teach children early to read;—so early +that, but for this consideration, it is of no consequence +whether they can read or not. We do it +while the eye is quick to notice the form of the +letters, and while the ear is apt to catch their +sound, and before the higher faculties come in +with any disturbing considerations. My own +opinion is that, on account of the feebleness and +uncertainty of the hand, writing had better be +taught later than it usually is;—that is, when the +child shows an inclination to draw or scribble,—to +describe any forms on slate or paper, or on walls +or sand. But whatever depends mainly on eye, +ear, and memory, should be taught early, when +the learning causes the most gratification and the +least pain. The help that this arrangement gives +to, and receives from, the formation of habits of +regularity and industry will come under notice +when I speak hereafter of the Care of the Habits.</p> + +<p>According to what has been said, a child's first +intellectual education lies in varied amusement, +without express teaching. This is while its brain +is infantine and tender, and its nature restless and +altogether sensitive. When it shows itself quieter +and more thoughtful, it may be expressly taught, +a little at a time, with cheerful steadiness and +tender encouragement. What it should learn, a +healthy well-trained child will, for the most part,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 212]</span> +indicate for itself, by its inquiries, and its pleasure +in learning. What the parent has to impose +upon it is that which, being artificial, it cannot +indicate for itself,—the art of reading, and the +names and forms of numbers, and such arrangements +of language as are found in simple poetry, +or other useful forms which may be committed to +memory. It is impossible to lay down any rule +as to the age to be comprehended in this period; +and it might be dangerous to do so;—so various +are the capacities and temperaments of children; +but, speaking quite indeterminately, I may say +that I have had in view the period, for ordinary +children, from the opening of the faculties to +about seven years old.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 213]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_213" name="Page_213"></a>CHAPTER XX.<br /> +<br /> +INTELLECTUAL TRAINING.—THE CONCEPTIVE FACULTIES.</h2> + + +<p>Up to this point, and for some way beyond it, +children are better off at home than at school; +and no parent should be induced to think otherwise +by what is seen to be achieved at Infant +Schools. At some Infant Schools, little children +who can scarcely speak, are found able to say and +do many wonderful things which might make inexperienced +mothers fear that their little ones at +home had not been done justice to, and must be +sadly backward in their education: but if the +anxious mother will consider a little, and keep on +the watch, she will perceive that her children are +better at home. These Infant Schools were set on +foot with the most benevolent of intentions; and +they are really a vast benefit to a large class in +society: but it does not follow that they afford +the best training for infants. In their very nature +they cannot do so. When we stand in the midst +of such an assemblage, we feel what a blessing it +is that little creatures who would be locked up in +garrets all day while the parents were at work, +liable to falls or fire, or who would be tumbling<span class="pagenum">[Pg 214]</span> +about in the streets or roads, dirty, quarrelsome, +and exposed to bad company, should be collected +here under safe guardianship, and taught, and +kept clean, and amused with harmless play: but +we cannot help seeing, at the same time, that +there is something unnatural in the method; and +whatever is unnatural is always radically bad. +Nature makes households, family groups where no +two children are of the same age, and where, with +the utmost activity, there is a certain degree of +quietness, retirement, and repose; whereas, in the +Infant School there is a crowd of little creatures, +dozens of whom are of the same age; and quietness +can be obtained only by drilling, while play +occasions an uproar which no nerves can easily +bear. The brain and nerves of infants are tender +and irritable; and in the quietest home, a sensible +mother takes care that the little creature is protected +from hurry, and loud noises, and fear, and +fatigue of its faculties. She sees when it begins +to look pale, or turns cross or sick, and instantly +removes it from excitement. But it is impossible +thus to protect each child in a school: and the +consequence is that the amount of mortality in +Infant Schools, as in every large assemblage of +infants, is very great. There is no saying whether +as many might not perish from accident and some +kind of misery, if they were left in their garrets +and street haunts; but the facts show that home +is the proper place for little children whose parents<span class="pagenum">[Pg 215]</span> +make a real home for them; and no apparent +forwardness of school infants can alter the case.</p> + +<p>In truth, school is no place of education for any +children whatever till their minds are well put in +action. This is the work which has to be done at +home, and which may be done in all homes where +the mother is a sensible woman. This done, a +good school is a resource of inestimable advantage +for cultivating the intellect, and aiding the acquisition +of knowledge: but it is of little or no use +without preparation at home. So at the age of +which we speak, parents may be satisfied that they +have the matter in their own hands.</p> + +<p>We have seen that the Perceptive faculties are +the first of the intellectual powers which act: and +that there is plenty of material for their exercise +everywhere, and all day long.</p> + +<p>The next set of faculties comes pretty early into +operation, and so much of the future wealth of +the mind depends on their cultivation that they +ought to have the serious attention of parents. I +refer to the Conceptive faculties. The time has +come when the child is perhaps less intensely +impressed by actual objects, while it becomes +capable of conceiving of something that it does +not see. At this period, the little boy drags about +the horse that has lost head and tail and a leg or +two: and the little girl hugs a rag bundle which +she calls her doll. The boy does not want a better +horse, nor the girl a real doll. The idea is every<span class="pagenum">[Pg 216]</span>thing +to them, by virtue of their conceptive faculty. +Staring, meagre pictures please them now,—better +than the finest; and stories, with few incidents +and no filling up. The faculty is so vigorous, +while, of course, very narrow in its range, from +the scantiness of the child's knowledge, that the +merest sketch is enough to stimulate it to action; +the rudest toys, the most meagre drawing, the +baldest story. The mother's business is now clear +and easy. Her business is to supply more and +more material for these faculties to work upon:—to +give, as occasion arises, more and more knowledge +of actual things, and furnish representations +or suggestions in the course of her intercourse +with the child. Nothing is easier; for in fact she +has only to make herself the child's cheerful companion: +and in a manner which can go on while +she is employed in her household occupations, or +walking in the fields or the streets. The child +asks a myriad of questions; and she must make +some kind of cheerful answer to them all, if she +lets him talk at all. She will often have to tell +him that she does not know this or that; for a +child's questions reach far beyond the bounds of +our knowledge: but she must not leave him without +some sort of answer to appease his restless +faculties. And his questions will suggest to her +a multitude of things to tell him which he will be +eager to hear, as long as they hang upon any +thing real which he knows already. Stories and<span class="pagenum">[Pg 217]</span> +pictures (including toys, which to him are pictures) +are what he likes best; and she will make either +stories or pictures,—short and vivid,—of what she +tells him. The stories and pictures of her conversation +must be simple and literal; and so must +any sketches she may make for him with pencil +and paper, or a bit of chalk upon the pavement. +She may make four straight strokes, with two +horizontal lines above, and a circle for a head, and +call it a horse; and a horse it will be to him, +because it calls up the image of a horse in his mind. +But if she draws it ever so well, and puts wings to +it, he will not like it half so much, even if she tells +him that its name is Pegasus, and there are some +pretty stories about such a horse. Perhaps he will +be afraid of it.</p> + +<p>There can scarcely be a stronger instance of the +power of such a child's conceptive faculty than in +his own attempts to draw. He draws the cat, or +a soldier, and is in raptures with it. Mark his +surprise when his mother points out to him that +the cat's head is bigger than her body, and that +the soldier is all legs and arms and gun, and has +no body at all. He sees this, and admits it, and +draws a better one: but he would not have found +out for himself that there was anything amiss the +first time. The idea was complete in his mind; +and he thought he saw its representation on +the paper, till his mother roused his perceptive +powers by making him observe the real cat and<span class="pagenum">[Pg 218]</span> +soldier, and their proportions. I remember once +being amused at seeing how very short a time +was necessary to bring the perceptive faculties +into their due relation to the conceptive. A +little boy who had taken a journey, was exceedingly +delighted with the river-side inn at Ferry-bridge +in Yorkshire; and he must draw it. +When he was a hundred miles further north, +he must draw it again: and diligently enough +he persevered, kneeling on a chair,—drawing the +river and the bridge, and a house, and a heap of +coals,—each coal being round, and almost as big +as the house. When his paper was nearly all +scrawled over, he went unwillingly away to his +dinner, from which he hastened back to his +drawing. But O! what consternation there was +in his face, and what large tears rolled down his +cheeks, till he hid his face with his pinafore. He +wailed and sobbed:—"somebody had spoiled his +drawing." When asked what made him think so, +and assured that nobody had touched it, he sobbed +out "I'm sure I never made it such a muddle." +Before dinner, he saw his work with the conceptive,—after +dinner with the perceptive faculties; +and it is no wonder that he thought two persons +had been at it.</p> + +<p>Without going over again any of the ground +traversed in the chapter on Fear, I may just observe +that at this period children are particularly +liable to fear. Almost any appearance suffices to<span class="pagenum">[Pg 219]</span> +suggest images; and the repetition of any image +invariably, at any time or place, is in itself terrifying +to those of older nerves than the children +we are thinking of. Now is the time when portraits +seem to stare at the gazer, and to turn their +eyes wherever he moves. Now is the time when +a crack in the plaster of a wall, or an outline in a +chintz pattern or a paper-hanging, suggests the +image of some monster, and perhaps makes the +child afraid of his room or his bed, while his +mother has no perception of the fact. The mother +should be on the watch, without any appearance +of being so.</p> + +<p>I have spoken of only the early stage of the +activity of the conceptive faculties. We see how +it goes on in the appetite for fiction which is +common to all children,—in the eagerness of boys +for books of voyages and travels, and for playing +soldiers, and school-master, and making processions, +while the girls are playing school-mistress, +and dressing up, and pretending to be the queen. +The whole period is, or ought to be, very precious +to the parents; for it is the time for storing their +children's minds with images and ideas, which +are the materials for the exercise of the higher +faculties at a later time. The simple method of +management is to practise the old maxim "Live +and let live." The mother's mind must be awake, +to meet the vivacious mind of the child: and she +must see that the child's is lively and natural, and<span class="pagenum">[Pg 220]</span> +be careful neither to over-excite it by her anxiety +to be always teaching, nor to baulk and depress +it by discouraging too much its sometimes inconvenient +loquacity and curiosity. It is well that +there should be times when children of six and +upwards should amuse themselves and one another +without troubling their elders; but a vivacious +child must talk and inquire a great deal every +day, or, if repressed, suffer from some undue exercise +of its mental activity.</p> + +<p>It should never be forgotten that the happier a +child is, the cleverer he will be. This is not only +because, in a state of happiness, the mind is free, +and at liberty for the exercise of its faculties, instead +of spending its thoughts and energy in brooding +over troubles; but also because the action of the +brain is stronger when the frame is in a state of +hilarity: the ideas are more clear; impressions of +outward objects are more vivid; and the memory +will not let them slip. This is reason enough for +the mother to take some care that she is the +cheerful guide and comforter that her child needs. +If she is anxious or fatigued she will exercise some +control over herself, and speak cheerfully, and try +to enter freely into the subject of the moment;—to +meet the child's mind, in short, instead of +making his sink for want of companionship. A +rather low instance of the effect of the stimulus +of joy in quickening the powers occurred within +my knowledge;—a rather low one, but illustrative<span class="pagenum">[Pg 221]</span> +enough. A little girl, the youngest of her class +at school, did her French lessons fairly; but, as a +matter of course, was always at or near the bottom, +while a tall girl, five years older, clever and industrious, +was always, as a matter of course, at the +top. One day, there happened to be a long word +in question in the vocabulary, which nobody knew +but the little girl; so she went to the top. There +was not much excitement of ambition in the case: +she felt it to be an accident merely, and the tall +girl was very kind to her;—there could hardly be +less of the spirit of rivalry in such a case than +there was here. But the joy of the child was +great; and her surprise,—both at the fact of her +position, and at the power she found in herself to +keep it;—and keep it she did for many weeks, +though the tall girl never missed a word in all +that time. The dull French vocabulary suddenly +became to the child a book of living imagery. +The very letters of the words impressed themselves +like pictures upon her memory; and each word, +becoming suddenly interesting of itself, called up +some imagery, which prevented its being forgotten. +All this was pleasant; and then there was the +comfort and security about the lesson being perfect. +The child not only hoped every day that she should +get well through, but felt it impossible that she +should ever forget a word of it. When at last she +failed, it was through depression of spirits. While +she was learning her lesson at home, her baby-<span class="pagenum">[Pg 222]</span>sister +was ill, and crying sadly. It was impossible +to get any impression out of the book:—the page +turned into common French vocabulary again; +and the next morning, not only the tall girl stepped +into her proper place, but the little one rapidly +passed down to her old stand at the bottom.</p> + +<p>Children who read from the love of reading are +usually supremely happy over their book. A +wise parent will indulge the love of reading, not +only from kindness in permitting the child to do +what it likes best, but because what is read with +enjoyment has intense effect upon the intellect. +The practice of reading for amusement must not +begin too soon: and it must be permitted by very +slow degrees, till the child is so practised in the +art of reading as to have its whole mind at liberty +for the subject, without having to think about +the lines or the words. Till he is sufficiently +practised for this, he should be read to: and it +will then soon appear whether he is likely to be +moderate when he gets a book into his own hands.—My +own opinion is that it is better to leave him +to his natural tastes,—to his instincts,—when +that important period of his life arrives which +makes him an independent reader. Of course, his +proper duty must be done;—his lessons, or work +of other kinds, and his daily exercise. But it +seems to me better to abstain from interfering +with that kind of strong inclination than to risk +the evils of thwarting it. Perhaps scarcely any<span class="pagenum">[Pg 223]</span> +person of mature years can conceive what the +appetite for reading is to a child. It goes off, or +becomes changed in mature years, to such a +degree as to make the facts of a reading childhood +scarcely credible in remembrance, or even +when before the eyes. But it is all right; and +the process had better not be disturbed. The +apprehension of a child is so quick, his conceptive +faculty is so ravenous for facts and pictures, or +the merest suggestions, and he is so entirely free +from those philosophical checks which retard in +adults the process of reception from books, that +he can, at ten years old, read the same book +twice as fast as he can,—if he duly improves +meanwhile,—twenty years later. I have seen a +young girl read Moore's Lalla Rookh through, +except a very few pages, before breakfast,—and +not a late breakfast; and not a passage of the +poem was ever forgotten. When she had done, +the Arabian scenes appeared to be the reality, +and the breakfast table and brothers and sisters +the dream: but that was sure to come right; and +all the ideas of the thick volume were added to +her store. I have seen a school-boy of ten lay +himself down, back uppermost, with the quarto +edition of "Thalaba" before him, on the first day of +the Easter holidays, and turn over the leaves, notwithstanding +his inconvenient position, as fast as +if he was looking for something, till, in a very +few hours it was done, and he was off with it to<span class="pagenum">[Pg 224]</span> +the public library, bringing back the "Curse of +Kehama." Thus he went on with all Southey's +poems, and some others, through his short holidays,—scarcely +moving voluntarily all those days except +to run to the library. He came out of the process +so changed, that none of his family could help +being struck by it. The expression of his eye, +the cast of his countenance, his use of words, and +his very gait were changed. In ten days, he had +advanced years in intelligence: and I have always +thought that this was the turning-point of his +life. His parents wisely and kindly let him alone,—aware +that school would presently put an end +to all excess in the new indulgence. I can speak +from experience of what children feel towards +parents who mercifully leave them to their own +propensities,—forbearing all reproach about the +ill manners and the selfishness of which the sinners +are keenly conscious all the while. Some children's +greediness for books is like a drunkard's for wine. +They can no more keep their hands off a beloved +book than the tippler from the bottle before him. +The great difference as to the safety of the case is +that the child's greediness is sure to subside into +moderation in time, from the development of +new faculties, while the drunkard's is sure to go +on increasing till all is over with him. If parents +would regard the matter in this way, they would +neither be annoyed at the excess of the inconvenient +propensity, nor proud of any child who<span class="pagenum">[Pg 225]</span> +has it. It is no sign yet of a superiority of +intellect; much less of that wisdom which in +adults is commonly supposed to arise from large +book-knowledge. It is simply a natural appetite +for that provision of ideas and images which +should, at this season, be laid in for the exercise +of the higher faculties which have yet to come +into use.—As I have said, I know from experience +the state of things which exists when a child cannot +help reading to an amount which the parents +think excessive, and yet are unwilling, for good +reasons, to prohibit. One Sunday afternoon, when +I was seven years old, I was prevented by illness +from going to chapel;—a circumstance so rare +that I felt very strange and listless. I did not go +to the maid who was left in the house, but lounged +about the drawing-room, where, among other +books which the family had been reading, was one +turned down upon its face. It was a dull-looking +octavo volume, thick, and bound in calf, as untempting +a book to the eyes of a child as could +well be seen: but, because it happened to be open, +I took it up. The paper was like skim milk,—thin +and blue, and the printing very ordinary. +Moreover, I saw the word Argument,—a very +repulsive word to a child. But my eye caught +the word "Satan;" and I instantly wanted to +know how anybody could argue about Satan. I +saw that he fell through chaos, found the place +in the poetry;—and lived heart, mind, and<span class="pagenum">[Pg 226]</span> +soul in Milton from that day till I was fourteen. +I remember nothing more of that Sunday, +vivid as is my recollection of the moment of +plunging into chaos: but I remember that +from that time till a young friend gave me a +pocket edition of Milton, the calf-bound volume +was never to be found because I had got it somewhere; +and that, for all those years, to me the +universe moved to Milton's music. I wonder how +much of it I knew by heart—enough to be always +repeating some of it to myself, with every change +of light and darkness, and sound and silence,—the +moods of the day, and the seasons of the year. +It was not my love of Milton which required the +forbearance of my parents,—except for my hiding +the book, and being often in an absent fit. It +was because this luxury had made me ravenous +for more. I had a book in my pocket,—a book +under my pillow; and in my lap as I sat at meals: +or rather, on this last occasion it was a newspaper. +I used to purloin the daily London paper before +dinner, and keep possession of it,—with a painful +sense of the selfishness of the act; and with a +daily pang of shame and self-reproach, I slipped +away from the table when the dessert was set +on, to read in another room. I devoured all +Shakspere, sitting on a footstool, and reading by +firelight, while the rest of the family were still at +table. I was incessantly wondering that this was +permitted; and intensely, though silently grateful<span class="pagenum">[Pg 227]</span> +I was for the impunity and the indulgence. It +never extended to the omission of any of my +proper business. I learned my lessons; but it +was with the prospect of reading while I was +brushing my hair at bedtime; and many a time +have I stood reading, with the brush suspended, +till I was far too cold to sleep. I made shirts +with due diligence,—being fond of sewing; but +it was with Goldsmith, or Thomson, or Milton +open on my lap, under my work, or hidden by +the table, that I might learn pages and cantos by +heart. The event justified my parents in their +indulgence. I read more and more slowly, fewer +and fewer authors, and with ever-increasing seriousness +and reflexion, till I became one of the slowest +of readers, and a comparatively sparing one.—Of +course, one example is not a rule for all; but the +number of ravenous readers among children is so +large, and among adults so small in comparison, +that I am disposed to consider it a general fact +that when the faculties, naturally developed, reach +a certain point of forwardness, it is the time for +laying in a store of facts and impressions from +books which are needed for ulterior purposes.</p> + +<p>The parents' main business during this process +is to look to the quality of the books read:—I +mean merely to see that the child has the freest +access to those of the best quality. Nor do I +mean only to such as the parent may think good +for a child of such and such an age. The child's<span class="pagenum">[Pg 228]</span> +own mind is a truer judge in this case than the +parents' suppositions. Let but noble books be +on the shelf,—the classics of our language,—and +the child will get nothing but good.</p> + +<p>The last thing that parents need fear is that the +young reader will be hurt by passages in really +good authors which might raise a blush a few +years later. Whatever children do not understand +slips through the mind, and leaves no trace; and +what they do understand of matters of passion is +to them divested of its mischief. Purified editions +of noble books are monuments of wasted labour: +for it ought to be with adults as it is with +children;—their purity should be an all-sufficient +purifier.</p> + +<p>The second stage in the Intellectual Education +of the Household children, then seems to be that +in which the young creatures, having learned to +use their own limbs and senses, and acquired the +command of speech, begin to use their powers for +the acquisition of materials for future thought. +They listen, they look about them, they inquire, +they read; and, above all, they dream. Life is for +them all pictures. Everything comes to them in +pictures. In preparation for the more serious +work to come, the parent has chiefly to watch and +follow Nature;—to meet the requirements of the +child's mind, put the material of knowledge in its +way, and furnish it with the arts necessary for the +due use of its knowledge and its nobler powers:<span class="pagenum">[Pg 229]</span>—the +arts of reading, ready writing, and the recording +and working of numbers; and the knowledge +of the grammar of some one language, at least. +Besides this, these best days of his memory +should be used for storing up word-knowledge, +and technical rules, and, as a luxury after these +dry efforts, as much poetry as the pupil is disposed +to learn; which will be a good deal, if the +selection is, in any degree, left to his own choice: +and some portion of it may well be so.</p> + +<p>Thus far, here is nothing that may not be +supplied in the most homely Household in the +land, where there is any value for the human +intellect, and any intention to educate the children. +It is difficult to say what more could be +done in the school-room of a palace. The intellect +of the high and low is of the same nature, and +developes itself in the same modes. While its +training depends on the love and good sense of +parents, as in this stage, it depends simply on the +quality of the parents whether the children of the +palace or of the cottage are the better educated.</p> + +<div class="poem" style="width: 28em;"> +<span class="i0">"No mystery is here; no special boon</span> +<span class="i0">For high and not for low; for proudly graced,</span> +<span class="i0">And not for meek of heart."</span> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 230]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_230" name="Page_230"></a>CHAPTER XXI.<br /> +<br /> +INTELLECTUAL TRAINING.—THE REASONING FACULTIES.—FEMALE +EDUCATION.</h2> + + +<p>The time comes at last,—sooner with one child, +later with another,—when the superior faculties +begin to show their activity; when the young pupil +attempts to reason, and should be helped to reason +well. The preparation for this time ought to have +gone on during all the preceding years, in the +establishment of a perfect understanding between +his parents' minds and his own. He ought to +have received nothing but truth from them, in +their intellectual, as in all their other intercourse. +What I mean is this. From the time he could +speak, the child has no doubt asked the Why of +everything that interested him. Now, no one knows +the ultimate Why of anything whatever; and it is +right to say this to the inquirer,—telling him as +much as he can understand of the How; and it is +but little that the wisest of us know of the How. +For instance, the little thing cries out "O! there +is a robin!" "A robin! and what is it doing?" +"It is hopping about. It has picked up something. +O! it is a worm. What does it get the worm +for?" "To eat it. Robins eat a great many<span class="pagenum">[Pg 231]</span> +worms." "Why do they eat worms? Why does +this robin eat that worm?" "Because it is +hungry." No intelligent child will stop here. He +will want to know why the robin does not eat +anything rather than worms; why the robin is +hungry; and certainly he will sooner or later +wonder why there are robins at all. About these +latter mysteries, the parent knows no more than +the questioner: and he should say so. He may tell +something of the how;—how the robin and all +other living creatures are impelled to eat; how +food gives nourishment; and so on. He may or +may not, according to his judgment, give information, +as far as he has it himself: but it ought not +to be a matter of choice with him whether to put +off a child with an unsatisfactory answer, or to +declare truthfully his own ignorance. He must +never weary of replying "I don't know," if fairly +brought to this point, after telling what he does +know. If he tells all that is understood of a tree +and its growth, so that he thinks his child cannot +possibly have more to ask, he will find there are +other questions still to come. "Why are trees +green?" If they are not all green, "Why is the +red beech red, and the pine black?" "Why does +a tree grow, instead of being always tall?" "Why +is John Smith handsome while Tom Brown is +ugly?" "Why do people exist when they could +not tell beforehand whether they should like it or +not?" Now, it will not do, if the child's mind is<span class="pagenum">[Pg 232]</span> +to be fairly dealt with, to give a dogmatical +answer; to put off the inquirer with a form of +words, or any assurance of anything that is not +absolutely known to be true. "I do not know," +is the answer which parental fidelity requires. +"Does anybody know?" is the next question. +"Nobody." "Shall I ever know?" "I don't +think you will: but you can try when you grow +up, if you like." Of course, the child determines +to try when he is a man: and meantime, he is +satisfied for the present. There is an understanding +between his parent and himself, which +will be of infinite use to him when his time comes +for finding out truth for himself by a comparison +of abstractions;—that is, by reasoning.</p> + +<p>With some abstractions every child becomes +early familiar; as the days of the week. Perhaps +the first which he is able to use for purposes +of reasoning are numbers. They are at least +eminently useful as a link between tangible objects +and those which are ideal. A child sees on the +table that two pins added to two make four pins: +and then that a button and a thimble put down +beside a marble and a halfpenny make four things, +as well as if they were all of the same sort. He +thus receives into his mind the abstract notion of +numbers. Whenever by his own thought, or by +inquiry of others, he clearly sees that, because +two sixes make twelve, four threes must make +twelve, he has begun to reason. He has found<span class="pagenum">[Pg 233]</span> +out a truth by comparing an abstraction with an +abstraction: that is, he has begun to reason. +Having begun,—having once satisfaction in grasping +an invisible truth in this way,—he will be +disposed to go on: and I, for one, would allow +him to do so, at his own pace. Nothing can be +more foolish than to stimulate the reasoning faculties +too early: but I do not see why their natural +action should be repressed because of a theory that +the reasoning faculties should not come into +activity till such or such an age. I know how +painful such repression is to a thoughtful child, +and how useless is the attempt to stop the process, +which will only be carried on with less advantage, +instead of being put an end to. I knew a girl of +eleven, thoughtful and timid, seldom venturing to +ask questions, or to open her mind about what +occupied it most,—who, on some unusual incitement +to confidence during a summer evening walk, +opened a theme of perplexity, to get a solution +from a grown-up brother, whom she regarded as +able to solve anything. She told him that she +could not see how, if God foreknew everything, +and could ordain everything, men could ever be +said to sin against him, or be justly punished for +anything they did: and then she went on to the +other particular of that problem;—how, if God +was all powerful to create happiness, and all good +to desire it, there came to be any suffering in the +world. Her brother answered her with kindness<span class="pagenum">[Pg 234]</span> +in his tone, but injudiciously. He told her that +that was a very serious question which she was too +young to consider yet; and that some years hence +would be time enough. She was dissatisfied and +hurt;—not from pride; but because she felt it +hard to be left in a perplexity from which she fully +supposed her brother could relieve her. She felt +that if she could ask the question,—thus put in a +definite form,—she must be capable of understanding +the answer. And so she undoubtedly was. +If the brother held the doctrine of free will, he +should have replied that he did not know;—that +he could not understand the perplexity any more +than herself. If he held the necessarian doctrine, +he should have imparted it to her; for her question +showed that she was capable of receiving it. The +end of the matter was that she suffered for years +under that reply, never again venturing to propose +her difficulty to any one. She worked her way +through the soluble half of the question alone at +last,—thinking first, and then reading, and then +meditating again, till all was clear and settled; +and in her mature years she found herself fast +anchored on the necessarian doctrine,—rather +wondering how she could have been so long in +satisfying herself about a matter so clear, but +aware that she had found an inestimable gain;—which +she might have reposed upon some years +earlier, if the natural working of her faculties had +been trusted as it might have been.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 235]</span></p> + +<p>Our enjoyment of our faculties appears to me +to be more proportioned to their quality than their +strength:—that, whether any one of us has the +reasoning power, or the imagination stronger or +weaker than the perceptive and conceptive faculties, +he enjoys most the exercise of the higher. Certainly, +children whose faculties are developed freely +and fairly have an intense relish for reasoning, +while the mind remains unwearied. The commonest +topics voluntarily chosen are conduct and +character; because the most familiar and interesting +abstractions are those which are connected +with morals. How boys and girls will debate by +the hour together about the stoicism of Junius +Brutus, and the patriotism of Brutus and Cassius; +and about all the suicides of all Romans, and all +the questionable acts of all heroes! The mother +is the great resource here, because she is always +at hand; and these matters are of such pressing +importance to the little people, that they cannot +wait till their father comes in, or can give them +some of his evening leisure. These topics are +good as an exercise of both the moral and intellectual +powers: but they do not yield full satisfaction +to the reasoning faculty, because they can +never be brought to any certain and evident issue. +The conclusions of morals are clear enough for +practical guidance; but they are not proveable. +For the full satisfaction of the reasoning faculties, +therefore, children must set to work elsewhere.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 236]</span>—They +may get something of it out of their lessons +in grammar, if they are trusted with the sense of +the grammar they are taught: lighting upon an +accusative case and a verb in a Latin sentence, they +know there must be a nominative: and there it is +presently, accordingly. Finding an ablative absolute, +they are confident of finding some sort of +proposition: and there it is, to their hand. The +words on the page before them are as real to the +sense as the written numerals on their slates: but +behind both there is a working of unseen laws,—independent +of the signification of either words or +numerals,—whose operation and issue it is a deep-felt +pleasure to follow and apprehend. The rules +of grammar, and the laws of numbers,—(the rules +of arithmetic, in short,)—are abstractions proceeding +from abstractions; and their workings bring +out a conclusion clear to the pupil's apprehension, +and unquestionable. This is all exercise of the +reasoning powers; and it is this exercise of those +powers, or the use of ear and memory only which +makes the difference between a pupil who learns +grammar and arithmetic with the understanding +or by rote.</p> + +<p>I once witnessed a curious instance of the difference +between the reasoning pupils of a class at +school and the learners by rote. The test was, I +think, designed by the master to be a test; and +it answered his purpose even better than our +strenuous exercises in grammar and arithmetic.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 237]</span> +Our master proposed to give some of us an idea +of English composition, and said he would next +week explain to us how to set about it. Some of +us, however, were all on fire with the idea of +writing essays, and were by no means disposed to +wait. The next time our master entered the +school-room, eight or ten pairs of beseeching eyes +were fixed upon him; and he, being a good-natured +man, asked what we wished. What we +wanted was to be allowed immediately to write +an essay on Music. He had no objection; but +he asked for some precision in the object of the +essay;—proposed that it should be the Uses of +Psalmody, or some such topic, which could be +treated in the limits of a school theme;—but no; +he saw by the faces and manner of the class that +it must be an essay on Music. I was the youngest +of the class, who ranged from eleven to sixteen: +and I wondered whether the elder ones felt as I +did when I saw the little smile at the corners of +the mouth, amidst the careful respect of our kind +master. I felt that we were somehow doing something +very silly, though I could not clearly see +what. It was plain enough when we brought up +our themes. Our master's respect and kindness +never failed: and he now was careful to say that +there was much that was true in each essay; +but——. We saw the "but" for ourselves, and +were ready to sink with shame; for nobody had +courage to begin to laugh at our folly. Such<span class="pagenum">[Pg 238]</span> +a mass of rhapsody and rhodomontade as we +presented to our master! Such highflying, incoherent +nonsense! Each was pretty well satisfied +with her own rhapsody till she heard the seven or +nine others read. "Now, perhaps you perceive," +our master began: and indeed we saw it all;—the +lack of order and object;—the flimsiness,—and +our own presumption. We were now more +ready to be taught. Some, however, could not +yet learn; and others liked this lesson better than +any they had ever attempted. This is the difference +which induces me to tell the story here. +We were taught the parts of a theme, as our +master and many others approved and practised +them, in sermons and essays: and the nature and +connexion of these parts were so clearly pointed +out, that on the instant it appeared to me that a +sudden light was cast at once on the processes of +thought and of composition,—for both of which I +had before an indistinct and somewhat oppressive +reverence. I saw how the Proposition, the Reason, +the Example, the Confirmation, and the Conclusion +led out the subject into order and clearness, and, in +fact, regularly emptied our minds of what we had +to say upon it. From that day till our school was +broken up (and my heart nearly broken with it) a +year and a half afterwards, the joy of my life was +writing themes;—or rather composing them; for +the act of writing was terribly irksome. But that +which some of us eminently enjoyed was altogether<span class="pagenum">[Pg 239]</span> +burdensome to others, from the procedure of the +task being utterly unintelligible. I suppose their +reasoning faculties were yet unawakened,—though +they were not so very young. The Proposition +they usually wrote down in the words in which +our subject was given to us;—the mere title of +the theme. The Reason was any sort of reason +about any affair whatever,—the authors protesting +that a reason was a reason any day. The Examples +were begged, or copied out of any history book. +The Confirmation was omitted, or declared to consist +in "the universal experience of mankind,"—whatever +the subject might be: and as for the +Conclusion, that was easy enough:—it was only +to say that for all the reasons given, the author +concluded so and so,—in the words of the title. +This was a case in which it would have been better +to wait awhile, till the meaning of the task and its +method should dawn upon the minds yet unready. +But, for those who were capable, it was a task of +great pleasure and privilege; and we loved our +master for testing and trusting our faculties in a +direction so new to us.</p> + +<p>Those studies which require reasoning as a +means to a proveable issue are of a high order, as +regards both profit and pleasure: and boys and +girls will be the better through life for whatever +mathematical training their parents can procure +for them. Be it little or be it much, they will +have reason to be grateful as long as they live for<span class="pagenum">[Pg 240]</span> +what they can obtain. I mention girls, as well as +boys, confident that every person able to see the +right, and courageous enough to utter it, will +sanction what I say. I must declare that on no +subject is more nonsense talked, (as it seems to +me) than on that of female education, when restriction +is advocated. In works otherwise really +good, we find it taken for granted that girls are +not to learn the dead languages and mathematics, +because they are not to exercise professions where +these attainments are wanted; and a little further +on we find it said that the chief reason for boys +and young men studying these things is to improve +the quality of their minds. I suppose none of us +will doubt that everything possible should be done +to improve the quality of the mind of every human +being.—If it is said that the female brain is incapable +of studies of an abstract nature,—that is not +true: for there are many instances of women who +have been good mathematicians, and good classical +scholars. The plea is indeed nonsense on the face +of it; for the brain which will learn French will +learn Greek; the brain which enjoys arithmetic is +capable of mathematics.—If it is said that women +are light-minded and superficial, the obvious +answer is that their minds should be the more +carefully sobered by grave studies, and the acquisition +of exact knowledge.—If it is said that their +vocation in life does not require these kinds of +knowledge,—that is giving up the main plea for<span class="pagenum">[Pg 241]</span> +the pursuit of them by boys;—that it improves +the quality of their minds.—If it is said that such +studies unfit women for their proper occupations,—that +again is untrue. Men do not attend the less +to their professional business, their counting-house +or their shop, for having their minds enlarged and +enriched, and their faculties strengthened by sound +and various knowledge; nor do women on that +account neglect the work-basket, the market, the +dairy and the kitchen. If it be true that women +are made for these domestic occupations, then of +course they will be fond of them. They will be +so fond of what comes most naturally to them that +no book-study (if really not congenial to their +minds) will draw them off from their homely duties. +For my part, I have no hesitation whatever in +saying that the most ignorant women I have +known have been the worst housekeepers; and +that the most learned women I have known have +been among the best,—wherever they have been +early taught and trained to household business, +as every woman ought to be. A woman of superior +mind knows better than an ignorant one what +to require of her servants, how to deal with trades-people, +and how to economise time: she is more +clear-sighted about the best ways of doing things; +has a richer mind with which to animate all about +her, and to solace her own spirit in the midst of +her labours. If nobody doubts the difference in +pleasantness of having to do with a silly and<span class="pagenum">[Pg 242]</span> +narrow-minded woman and with one who is intelligent +and enlightened, it must be clear that the +more intelligence and enlightenment there is, the +better. One of the best housekeepers I know,—a +simple-minded, affectionate-hearted woman, whose +table is always fit for a prince to sit down to, whose +house is always neat and elegant, and whose small +income yields the greatest amount of comfort, is one +of the most learned women ever heard of. When +she was a little girl, she was sitting sewing in the +window-seat while her brother was receiving his +first lesson in mathematics from his tutor. She +listened, and was delighted with what she heard; +and when both left the room, she seized upon +the Euclid that lay on the table, ran up to her +room, went over the lesson, and laid the volume +where it was before. Every day after this, she sat +stitching away and listening, in like manner, and +going over the lesson afterwards, till one day she +let out the secret. Her brother could not answer +a question which was put to him two or three +times; and, without thinking of anything else, she +popped out the answer. The tutor was surprised, +and after she had told the simple truth, she was +permitted to make what she could of Euclid. Some +time after, she spoke confidentially to a friend of +the family,—a scientific professor,—asking him, +with much hesitation and many blushes, whether +he thought it was wrong for a woman to learn +Latin. "Certainly not," he said; "provided she<span class="pagenum">[Pg 243]</span> +does not neglect any duty for it.—But why do +you want to learn Latin?" She wanted to study +Newton's Principia: and the professor thought +this a very good reason. Before she was grown +into a woman, she had mastered the Principia of +Newton. And now, the great globe on which we +live is to her a book in which she reads the choice +secrets of nature; and to her the last known +wonders of the sky are disclosed: and if there is +a home more graced with accomplishments, and +more filled with comforts, I do not know such an +one. Will anybody say that this woman would +have been in any way better without her learning?—while +we may confidently say that she would +have been much less happy.</p> + +<p>As for women not wanting learning, or superior +intellectual training, that is more than any one +should undertake to say in our day. In former +times, it was understood that every woman, (except +domestic servants) was maintained by her +father, brother or husband; but it is not so now. +The footing of women is changed, and it will +change more. Formerly, every woman was destined +to be married; and it was almost a matter +of course that she would be: so that the only +occupation thought of for a woman was keeping +her husband's house, and being a wife and mother. +It is not so now. From a variety of causes, there +is less and less marriage among the middle classes +of our country; and much of the marriage that<span class="pagenum">[Pg 244]</span> +there is does not take place till middle life. A +multitude of women have to maintain themselves +who would never have dreamed of such a thing a +hundred years ago. This is not the place for a +discussion whether this is a good thing for women +or a bad one; or for a lamentation that the occupations +by which women might maintain themselves +are so few; and of those few, so many +engrossed by men. This is not the place for a +speculation as to whether women are to grow into +a condition of self-maintenance, and their dependence +for support upon father, brother and husband +to become only occasional. With these considerations, +interesting as they are, we have no business +at this moment. What we have to think of is the +necessity,—in all justice, in all honour, in all +humanity, in all prudence,—that every girl's +faculties should be made the most of, as carefully +as boys'. While so many women are no longer +sheltered, and protected, and supported, in safety +from the world (as people used to say) every woman +ought to be fitted to take care of herself. Every +woman ought to have that justice done to her +faculties that she may possess herself in all the +strength and clearness of an exercised and enlightened +mind, and may have at command, for +her subsistence, as much intellectual power and +as many resources as education can furnish her +with. Let us hear nothing of her being shut out, +because she is a woman, from any study that she<span class="pagenum">[Pg 245]</span> +is capable of pursuing: and if one kind of cultivation +is more carefully attended to than another, +let it be the discipline and exercise of the reasoning +faculties. From the simplest rules of arithmetic +let her go on, as her brother does, as far into the +depths of science, and up to the heights of +philosophy as her powers and opportunities permit; +and it will certainly be found that the more +she becomes a reasoning creature, the more +reasonable, disciplined and docile she will be: the +more she knows of the value of knowledge and of +all other things, the more diligent she will be;—the +more sensible of duty,—the more interested +in occupations,—the more womanly. This is only +coming round to the points we started from; that +every human being is to be made as perfect as +possible: and that this must be done through the +most complete development of all the faculties.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 246]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_246" name="Page_246"></a>CHAPTER XXII.<br /> +<br /> +INTELLECTUAL TRAINING.—THE IMAGINATIVE FACULTIES.</h2> + + +<p>The young mind is very well entertained for a +time by the exercise of its reasoning powers,—if, +instead of being baffled, they are encouraged and +trained. But, there is a higher set of faculties +still which begin to work ere long; and usually +in such proportion to the reasoning powers as +would seem to indicate some connexion between +them. Or it may be that the moral fervour which +gives great advantage to the reasoning powers is +exactly that which is essential to the development +of the highest of human faculties,—the Imagination. +Certain it is that the children who most +patiently and earnestly search out the reasons +of things,—either looking deep into causes, or +following them high up to consequences, are those +who most strongly manifest the first stirrings of +the heavenly power which raises them highest in +the ranks of being known to exist. They may, or +they may not, have shown a power of Fancy +before this time. They may, or they may not, +have manifested a strong conceptive faculty; a +power of forming images of objects already well +known or clearly described; but, if they can so<span class="pagenum">[Pg 247]</span> +think of unseen things, so compare them and +connect them, as to bring truth out at last,—if, in +short, they reflect and reason well, the probability +is that they will prove to have a good portion of the +higher faculty of Imagination. At least, we may +be sure that a child of high imaginative faculty +has good reasoning powers.</p> + +<p>During the first exercise of the reasoning powers +a child may, and probably will, become thoughtful. +He will look grave at times, and be buried in reflection +for awhile: but this gravity does not make +him less cheerful; and when he has done thinking +about the particular thing his head was full of, he +is as merry as ever. But a little later, and his +thoughtfulness becomes something quite different +from this. If there is some mingling of melancholy +with it, the parents must not be uneasy. +It is all natural, and therefore right. He is +beginning to see and to feel his position in the +universe; to see and to feel that by the powers +within him he is connected with all that exists, +and can conceive of all that may exist: and his +new consciousness gives a light to his eye and a +meaning to his countenance that were never seen +there before. While he was an infant, he was +much like any other young animal for his thoughtless +and unconscious enjoyment of all the good +things that were strewed in his daily path. Then, +he began to see deeper,—into the reasons of +things, and their connexions; and now he had<span class="pagenum">[Pg 248]</span> +become higher than other young animals,—for +they cannot perceive the truths of numbers, or +discover by thought anything not before known +in any science. But now, he has become conscious +of himself; he can contemplate himself as he can +contemplate any other object of thought; and he +is occupied in connecting his own thoughts,—his +own mind—with every object of thought. It is +upon his consciousness and his thoughts united +that his imaginative power has to act. By it, he +sees everything in a new light, and feels everything +with a new depth: and though he often +finds this a glorious pleasure, he is sometimes +much oppressed by it: and then comes the kind +of gentle melancholy before referred to.</p> + +<p>See the difference, to the child of dull imagination, +or of an age too young for it, and the +child superior in years or in faculty,—when they +contemplate Nature, or Human Life, or anything +whatever;—when they read the History of +England, or Conversations on Chemistry, or +Shakspere's Plays, or anything you please. Show +them the sky as you are coming home at +night. The one will learn to know the constellations +as easily perhaps as the other, and will +show somebody else the next night which is the +Great Bear, and which is Orion: but the duller +or younger child sees nothing more than what is +before its eyes; or, if told that all those stars are +worlds, believes it without seeing or feeling any<span class="pagenum">[Pg 249]</span>thing +beyond the mere fact as conveyed in the +words. But at the same moment the faculty of +Imagination in the other child is kindling up +within him,—and kindling all his other powers. +He sees, by his mind, far far beyond the bounds +of human measurement and the human sight;—sees +the universe full of rolling suns; worlds for +ever moving in their circles, and never clashing; +worlds of which there are myriads vaster than +our own globe. All this he sees, not by gazing at +the sky; for he sees it better when his head is on +his pillow,—or when his hands are busy with +some mechanical employment, the next day. If +he feels how, with all his busy mind and swelling +heart, and whole world of ideas, he is yet but an +atom in this great universe, almost too small for +notice, is not this enough to make him thoughtful? +and if there is a tinge of melancholy in his +seriousness, may it not be allowed for? Again, +in reading the History of England,—the duller or +younger child may remember the kings, and the +great men, and the great battles, and the great +famine and plague; and perhaps almost all the +events told: and, if he has some considerable conceptive +faculty, he may have pictures in his mind of +the ancient Britons, and then of King Alfred and +his people; and then of the Normans coming over +and landing, and establishing themselves in our +island. But the superior child sees all this, and +very much more. The minds of all the people he<span class="pagenum">[Pg 250]</span> +reads of are as manifest to him as the events of +their lives. He feels the wild valour of the old +Britons while he reads of them; and his soul +melts in reverence, and grief, and pity for King +Alfred; and then it glows with courage; and then +it grows calm with faith as he sees the courage and +faith that were in King Alfred. And so on, +through the whole history. And even more than +this. He sees more than the individuals of whom +he reads could see of themselves. The kingdom +and the nation are ideas in his mind, as vivid as his +idea of the personages he reads of. He feels when +the nation is rising or falling; rejoices when a +great and good man,—a sage, or a patriot, or a +martyr—arises to bless his race, and burns with +indignation and grief when the wicked have their +own way. Is there not something here to make +him thoughtful? and if there is a tinge of melancholy +in his seriousness, may it not be allowed for? +Suppose these two to read "Conversations on +Chemistry," or "Scientific Dialogues,"—they will +see and feel as differently as in the former cases. +The inferior child will find some entertainment, +and particularly if allowed to try chemical experiments: +but these experiments will be to him +a sort of cookery;—a putting things together, +in order to succeed in producing some result,—amusing +or pretty. His smattering of Chemistry +is to him now a plaything, whatever it may become +when he is wiser. But how different is it with<span class="pagenum">[Pg 251]</span> +the elder one, whose awakened imagination now +silently enters with him into every chamber of +his own mind and every scene of nature—opening +his vision with a divine touch, and showing him +everything in its vastness and its inner truth! +He does not want to try chemical experiments. +He would rather think quietly of the great agents +of Nature, and see them, with the eye of his mind, +for ever at their work;—Heat, spreading through +all things, and even hiding in the polar ice;—Electricity, +darting and streaming through all +substances, and being the life of all that lives; +and the flowing together and mixing of three airs +to make air that we can breathe,—this flowing +together and mixing having gone on ever since +there were breathing creatures on the globe;—these +great images, and those of the forces of the +waters, the pressure of the atmosphere, the velocities +of motion,—the mechanical action, in short, +of the great forces of Nature, occupy and move +him more than any outward methods of proof of +what has been laid open to him. Or, if he tries +experiments, the thing that impresses him is +something far higher than amusement:—it is +wonder and awe, and perhaps delight that he can +put his hand in among the forces of Nature, and +take his share, and set Nature to work for him. +Is it any wonder that his heart throbs, and his eyes +swim or kindle, and that he had rather think than +speak? And may he not be left undisturbed<span class="pagenum">[Pg 252]</span> +at such a moment, till his mind takes a lower +tone?</p> + +<p>It is this faculty which has produced the +highest benefits to the human race that it has +ever enjoyed. The highest order of men who +have lived are those in whom the power of Imagination +has been the strongest, the most disciplined, +and the most elevated. The noblest gifts that +have been given to men are the ideas which have +proceeded from such minds. It is this order of +mind alone that creates. Others may discover, +and adapt, and improve, and establish: but it is +the imaginative order of mankind that creates,—whether +it be the majestic steam-engine, or the +immortal picture, or the divine poem. It should +be a joyful thing to parents,—though it must be +a very serious one,—to see clear tokens in any +child of the development of this faculty,—the +faculty of seeing things invisible,—of "seeing +things that are not as though they were." If it +is only of average strength, it is a true blessing, +inasmuch as it ennobles the views and the life of +the individual, if its benefit extends no further in +a direct manner. If it appears in any marked +degree, the parents' hearts cannot but be elated, +though they may be anxious. It is a sign of +natural nobility,—of a privilege higher than hereditary +or acquired honour: and greater than a +monarch can bestow. Through it, if it be rightly +trained, its possessor must enjoy the blessings of<span class="pagenum">[Pg 253]</span> +largeness of heart and wealth of mind, and probably +of being a benefactor, more or less, to +his race.</p> + +<p>Now,—what are the tokens of this endowment? +and how should it be treated?</p> + +<p>When a young person's views extend beyond +the objects immediately presented to him, it is +naturally seen in his countenance, manner, speech +and habits. The questions he asks, the books he +reads, his remarks on what he reads or hears, all +show whether his mind is deeply employed. He +is probably a great reader; and if he has been +religiously brought up, he probably becomes intensely +religious about the time of the development +of his higher faculties.—He must be treated with +great consideration and tenderness. If he is of +an open disposition, apt to tell of his day dreams +and aspirations, there must be no ridicule,—no +disrespect from any part of the household. There +ought to be none; for it is pretty certain that any +day dreams and aspirations of his are more worthy +of respect than any ridicule with which they can +be visited. The way to strengthen and discipline +his mind is not, as we have often said already, to +repress any of its faculties, but to employ them +well. In no case is this management more important +than in the present.</p> + +<p>Now, in this important period of youthful life, +it is the greatest possible blessing if the son or +daughter be on terms of perfect confidence with<span class="pagenum">[Pg 254]</span> +the mother. It is a kind of new life to a mother +who has kept her mind and heart active and warm +amidst her trials and cares, to enter into sympathy +with the aspirations and imaginations of her ripening +children. She has a keen enjoyment in the +revival of her own young feelings and ideas;—some +of the noblest she has known: and things +which might appear extravagant at another time +or from other persons, will be noble and animating +as coming from those whose minds,—minds which +she has watched from their first movements,—are +now rapidly opening into comparative maturity. +To her, then, the son or daughter need not fear to +speak freely and openly. To her they may pour +out their admiration of Nature, their wonder at +the sublimities of science; their speculations upon +character; their soundings in the abysses of life +and death; their glorious dreams of what they will +be and do. The more she sympathises with them +in their intellectual pleasures and tendencies, +the more will her example tell upon them as a +conscientious doer of the small duties of life: and +thus she may silently and unconsciously obviate +one of the chief dangers of this period of her +children's lives. If they see that the mother who +glows with the warmth of their emotions, and +goes abroad through the universe hand in hand, +as we may say, with them, to note and enjoy +all that is mighty and beautiful, all that is heroic +and sweet,—is yet as punctual in her every<span class="pagenum">[Pg 255]</span>day +duty as the merest plodder and worldling, +they will take shame to themselves for any reluctance +that they feel to commonplace ideas and what +seems to them drudgery. Full confidence and +sympathy are the first requisites of the treatment +of this period.</p> + +<p>But the wise parent will have laid up material +for the employment of the imaginative faculty, +long before it can appear in any strength. The +child will have been familiarised with a high and +noble order of ideas; and especially of moral +ideas: for the picturesque or scientific will be +pretty sure to make themselves duly appreciated +by the awakened ideal faculties. Whatever the +parent can tell of heroic conduct, of lofty character, +of the grave crises and affecting changes of human +life, will be so much material laid in for the +virtuous and salutary use of those awakening +faculties which might otherwise be occupied in +selfishness and other mischief. Let the mind be +abundantly ministered to. This may be done +in the most homely households where there is +any nobility of mind. Every parent has known +some person who is noble and worthy of contemplation +for character and conduct. Every parent +can tell some moving or striking tale of a human +lot. To all, the heavens and the earth, the sea, +and all that in them is, are open for contemplation. +In every household, there is the Bible: and in the +houses of all who read this, there is, no doubt,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 256]</span> +Milton, on the shelf beside the Bible. With these +parents have means enough for the education of +their children's highest faculties. In these they +hold a greater treasure than any other that can be +found in royal abodes: and the kingdom of Nature +is a field which their children have free license to +rove with the highest. Let them have and enjoy +these treasures abundantly. Let them read all +tales of noble adventure that can be obtained for +them;—of the heroes that have struggled through +Polar ice and burning African sands; that have +sailed on past the horizon of hope in the discovery +of new continents, and have succeeded through +faith, courage and patience. Let the reading of +good fiction be permitted, where the desire is +strong. Some of the highest interests of English +history have been opened to the present generation +by the novels of Scott, as to many a preceding +one by the Plays of Shakspere. My own +opinion is that no harm is done, but much good, +by an early reading of fiction of a high order: and +no one can question its being better than leaving +the craving mind to feed upon itself,—its own +dreams of vanity or other selfishness,—or to seek +an insufficient nourishment from books of a lower +order. The imagination, once awakened, must +and will work, and ought to work. Let its working +be ennobled, and not debased, by the material +afforded to it.</p> + +<p>In the parents' sympathy must be included<span class="pagenum">[Pg 257]</span> +forbearance; forbearance with the uncertainty of +temper and spirits, the extravagance of ideas, the +absurd ambition, or fanaticism or, (as it is generally +called) "romance" which show themselves more +or less, on the opening of a strong imaginative +faculty. It should be remembered that the young +creature is half-living in a new world; and that +the difficulty of reconciling this beloved new world +with the familiar old one is naturally very trying +to one who is just entering upon the struggles of +the mind and of life. He cannot reconcile the +world and its ways and its people with the ideals +which are presenting themselves to him; and he +becomes, for a time, irritable, or scornful, or +depressed. One will be fanatical, for a time, and +sleep on the boards, and make and keep a vow +never to smile. Another will be discontented, +and apparently ungrateful, for a time, in the idea +that he might be a hero if he had certain advantages +which are not given him. Another looks +down already on all his neighbours on account of +the great deeds he is to do by and by: and all are +convinced,—every youth and maiden of them all,—that +nobody can enter into their feelings,—nobody +understand their minds,—nobody conceive +of emotions and aspirations like theirs. At the +moment, this is likely to be true; for their ideas +and emotions are vast and stirring, beyond their +own power to express; and it can scarcely happen +that any one is at hand, just at the right season,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 258]</span> +to receive their out-pourings, and give them credit +for more than they can tell.—With all the consequences +of these new movements of the mind, the +parents must have forbearance,—even to the point +(if it must be) of witnessing an intimacy with some +young companion, not very wise, who is the depository +of more confidence than is offered to those +who should be nearest and dearest. These waywardnesses +and follies may have their day, and +prove after all to have been, in their way, wholesome +discipline. Every waywardness brings its +smart; and every folly leaves its sting of shame in +the mind that is high enough to manifest any considerable +power of imagination. They will punish +and cure themselves; and probably in a short +time. Nature may be trusted here, as everywhere. +If we have patience to let her work, without hindrance +and without degradation, she will justify our +confidence at last. Give her free scope,—remove +out of her way everything that is low and sordid, +and needlessly irritating, and minister to her everything +that is pure and gentle, and noble and true, +and she will produce a glorious work. In the +wildest flights of haughty and undisciplined imagination, +the young aspirant will take heed enough +to the beauty and dignity of a lowly, and dutiful +and benignant walk in life, to come down and +worship it when cruder visions have passed away. +It is only to wait, in gentleness and cheerfulness, +and the wild rhapsodist, or insolent fanatic will<span class="pagenum">[Pg 259]</span> +work his way through his snares into a new world +of filial, as well as other duty, and, without being +less of a poet, but because he is more of one, will +be a better son and brother and neighbour,—making +his life his highest poem.</p> + +<p>It will be said that we have here, in treating of +the training of the Intellectual faculties, recurred +to the department of morals. And this is true. +No part of human nature can work in isolation; +and when we treat of any function by itself, it is +for the convenience of our understandings, and +not as a following of nature. No intellectual +faculty can act independently of the moral; and +the higher the faculties, the closer we find their +interaction; till we arrive at the fact that Veneration, +Benevolence, Hope, Conscientiousness and +Firmness cannot act to perfection except in company +with a vigorous faculty of Imagination, and +strong Reflective powers: and again, that the +Reasoning and Imaginative powers can never work +to their fullest capacity unless the highest of the +moral powers are as active as themselves. In all +true poetry, there is a tacit appeal to the sanction +of Conscience, and Veneration and Benevolence +are the heavenly lights which rise upon the scene: +while, on the other hand, no Reverence is so deep, +Benevolence so pure, as those which are enriched +by the profoundest Thought, and refined and +exalted by the noblest Idealism.</p> + +<p>These truths bring us to a practical considera<span class="pagenum">[Pg 260]</span>tion +as serious as any which our minds can receive +and dwell upon. My own sense of it is so strong, +and so confirmed by the experience of a life, that +I feel that if I had the utmost power of thought +and language that were ever possessed by the +human being, I could do no justice to it:—that +the only means of improving the <i>morale</i> to the +utmost is by elevating the ideal of the individual. +It is well to improve the conduct, and satisfy the +conscience of the child by calling upon its resolution +to amend its faults in detail,—to control its +evil tempers, and overcome its indolence and +laxity: but this is a temporary method, insufficient +for its ultimate needs. The strength of resolution +fails when the season of youth is past, or is employed +on other objects; and it is rare, as we all +know, to see faults amended, and bad habits overcome +in mature years: and then, if improvement +proceeds, radically and continuously, it is by the +mind being placed under good influences, operating +both powerfully and continuously. Of good +influences, the most powerful and continuous is +the presence in the mind of a lofty ideal. This is +the great central fire which is always fed by the +material it draws to itself, and which can hardly +be extinguished. When the whole mind is possessed +with the image of the godlike, ever growing +with the expansion of the intelligence, and ever +kindling with the glow of the affections, every +passion is consumed, every weakness grows into<span class="pagenum">[Pg 261]</span> +the opposite strength; and the entire force of +the moral life, set free from the exclusive care of +the details of conduct, and from the incessant +anxiety of self-regards, is at liberty to actuate the +whole harmonious being in its now necessary +pursuit of the highest moral beauty it can conceive +of. To this godlike inspiration, strong and lofty +powers of Thought and Imagination are essential: +and if parents desire that their children should be +what they are made to be,—"but a little lower +than the angels,"—they must cherish these powers +as the highest sources of moral inspiration.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 262]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_262" name="Page_262"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.<br /> +<br /> +CARE OF THE HABITS.—IMPORTANCE OF HABIT.</h2> + + +<p>The importance of <span class="smcap">Habit</span> is an old subject; as +old as any in morals. For thousands of years, +moralists and philosophers have written and +preached about it; and everybody is convinced +by what they say. But I much doubt whether, +even yet, many penetrate into the depth of the +matter. Everybody sees, and everybody has felt +the difficulty of breaking bad habits, and that +there is no security to virtue so strong as long-formed +good habits: but my observation compels +me to think that scarcely anybody is aware of the +whole truth;—that every human being (except +such as are born defective) might be made perfectly +good if his parents were wise enough to do +all that might be done by the power of Habit. +This seems a bold thing to say, but I am convinced +that it is true.</p> + +<p>I am aware that we cannot expect to see any +parents wise enough to know how to make the +fullest use of this power: and perhaps there are +none, even of the tenderest parents, who can keep +themselves up to an incessant vigilance over their +infants, without any carelessness or flagging.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 263]</span> +Sometimes they are busy; sometimes they are +tired; sometimes they are disheartened. They +are not perfectly wise and good themselves; and +therefore they must sink below the mark, more or +less. But I am sure it would be a great help to +their strength, and vigilance, and heartiness, if +they could clearly see how easily their children +may be made anything they please.</p> + +<p>The great points, for conscientious parents, are +to be fully convinced of the supreme importance +of the formation of Habits, and to begin early +enough. If they will begin early enough, they +will be sure to be convinced. But a pretty strong +conviction may be had beforehand, by observation +of the history and character of mankind.</p> + +<p>Habits of Belief are the most important of all: +and everybody thinks so: and of all Beliefs those +which relate to Duty,—those which are called religious—are +the highest. Now look round the +world, and see how many individuals you can find +who have inquired out for themselves what they +think they believe. As for nations,—a nation of +independent thinkers is a thing never dreamed of. +Such a spectacle as that has never been seen in +the wildest visions of the most sanguine of poets +and moralists. I have travelled among heathens, +Mohammedans, Jews, and many kinds of Christians; +and I have found them all believing what +they were taught, before they could reason, to hold +as sacred truth; and this was exactly what their<span class="pagenum">[Pg 264]</span> +teachers were themselves taught to suppose +(for one cannot call this Belief) in the same +manner. The Red Indian, on the shores of the +American lakes, and on the wide prairie, is brought +up, from the time he can understand language at +all, to believe that there is a Great Spirit who +lives far away over the waters or beyond the +forests, who is jealous and angry if the people do +not offer to him whatever they like best;—who forbids +them to touch whatever he wants for himself;—who +has favourites among their warriors, and is +most pleased with those who most torture their +bodies, to show their bravery. The Indian believes +in a good many inferior spirits, who do him good +or harm, and mingle more in his affairs than the +Great Spirit does. This is the Indian way of +thinking; and every Indian child grows up to +think in the same way, upon the whole, though +one may be more sure than another of one or +another part of the doctrine. No one of the whole +tribe asks for any proof that things are so. The +early habit of taking these doctrines for granted, +as something solemn and sacred, which somebody +must have known for true a long time ago, prevents +any one but a thoughtful person here +and there ever inquiring whether there is really +any knowledge existing about the matter at all, +or only superstition. Then, there are the Jews. +Not one Jew in ten thousand ceases to be a Jew +in religion; and nobody out of the Jewish body<span class="pagenum">[Pg 265]</span> +ever gets to think as they do;—to hold their +doctrines, and their traditions, and their superstitions. +Next, in order of time, come the +Christians. There are many bodies of Christians, +differing as much from one another as if they +held faiths called by different names. There +are the Christians of the Greek Church, worshipping +many gods under the name of saints;—some +thinking it blasphemy not to adore the +Emperor of Russia next to God, and some paying +their first homage to the Virgin with Three +Hands. There are the Christians of the Romish +Church, who are shocked at the Emperor of +Russia for not being one of them; and shocked +at the Protestants for not worshipping the bones +and toe-nails of <i>their</i> saints. And there are the +Protestant Christians, who are shocked at the +superstitions of the Romish Church on the one +hand, and at the doctrines of every Protestant +sect but their own, on the other. Then come +the Mohammedans, who think it exactly as impious +in all Christians not to receive Mohammed, their +prophet, whom they think a greater than Christ, +as the Christians think it impious in the Jews +not to receive Christ, whom they hold to be +greater than Moses. The children of all these +multitudes, (except in an extremely rare case, +here and there) receive what they are early told, +as their parents received it before them; and no +one supposes that any one of those vast multitudes<span class="pagenum">[Pg 266]</span> +would think and feel as he does on matters of religion +if he were not early habituated to think and +feel as he does. Can we imagine any one of ourselves, +concluding for ourselves, for instance, that +the most solemn and sacred of human duties was +to go through a set of prostrations and gestures, like +those of the Mohammedans, five times a day as long +as we live, unless we were taught, from early infancy, +to consider such acts to be in the highest degree +virtuous? Can we imagine ourselves thinking, +as the Mohammedans do, that every man who +does not go through this set of gestures five times +every day, is careless about goodness altogether,—is +an Infidel (which is the Mohammedan name +for a Christian)—is wicked, and must be cast into +hell? More persons in the world believe this than +believe in the gods of the Red Indian, and the faith +of the Jews, and the doctrines of all bodies of +Christians put together. Yet it is incredible that +any man would so believe,—so undoubtingly, so +solemnly, if he had not been habituated to such a +belief from the very beginning. If the beliefs of +the majority of mankind are thus dependant upon +habit,—if their faith and their views of duty and +happiness,—(the most important of all views) +have this origin, how is it possible to overrate +the importance of Habit? If, turning away from +the Greek Christians and the Mohammedans, we +contemplate in our imagination a large sect or +nation who should have been habituated, from<span class="pagenum">[Pg 267]</span> +the first dawning of intelligence, to regard perfect +goodness as the most sacred and solemn and +beautiful thing that the human mind can conceive +of,—as a thing the most interesting and important +to every human being,—and a thing within the +reach of every one of us, is it conceivable that +such a people would not be the most virtuous +ever seen on earth? Let it not be said that +children are so taught,—that such is the habit +of their minds in our Christian country: for +alas! it is very much otherwise. They are +occasionally told, indeed, that Christ desired +his followers to be perfect as their Father in +heaven is perfect; but this is not the aim steadily +and cheerfully set before any child, as a +hopeful enterprise,—as the best thing in the +world, and as a thing which must be done. No +child sees that this object is what his parents are +living for, in comparative disregard of everything +else; and that this is what he ought to live for, +and is expected certainly to accomplish, according +to his means. While he is told, and pretty often, +that the best thing in the world is to be good, +he is habituated, by what he sees and hears +almost all day long, to believe that it is a hopeless +thing to become perfectly good, and that everybody +tries, in fact, for something else, with more +zeal and expectation;—to get knowledge, to get +reputation, to get employment and comfort,—to +get all manner of pleasant things by their own<span class="pagenum">[Pg 268]</span> +desires and exertions, while they trust that some +power will make them good, without that unremitting +desire and exertion on their parts which +alone can make them so.</p> + +<p>I have before me the Remarks of a conscientious +and affectionate father on the essential +and unlimited power of Habit in the rearing of +Children;—a truth which he had heard of all his +life, but never fairly estimated till he had employed +his energies on the education of his own family. +I do not know who he is; but I see by the +pamphlet before me<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> that he is earnest and intelligent, +and qualified to speak from experience. +Earnest he must be, for it appears that it was +his constant habit, during the infancy of his children, +to rise in the night, to see that they were +well, and sleeping peacefully: and he invariably +went with them to school, and met them at the +school door, to bring them home again,—more +than a mile,—though he was a busy man,—obliged +to work for their bread and his own. +This earnest observer says "I now repeat the +opinion that every child born, not insane or idiotic, +might, to a moral certainty, be trained to be a +gentle, a benevolent, and a pious adult. Of the +correctness of this opinion I have long ceased to +have any doubt. Holding this opinion to be +positively correct, I next held that the universal +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 269]</span>belief of its correctness would soon lead to an +amount of improvement in the several conditions +of human existence that would exceed even my +own sanguine expectations. The encouragement +which this belief would give to parents would +bring into active and affectionate exertion an +amount of attention and devotion to the training +of the infant feelings and propensities of their +offspring, such as heretofore has never been exercised, +or perhaps ever imagined. I would, therefore, +spread this belief among all mankind, by +every means in my power to employ, and with it +my opinions of the kind of teaching, or rather +training, by which such blessed results might be +produced. To describe this kind of teaching, or +training, is not at present in my power to do, to a +due extent. I will but give one brief rule, namely, +'What you wish a child to be, be that to the +child.' And I would impress upon the mind +of the mother, the nurse, or other teacher, the +importance of so training each desire or propensity +as to bring it as early as possible into habitual +obedience to the dictates of the religious and moral +sentiments,—those sentiments being guided by +the enlightened intellect of such mother, nurse, +or teacher. These teachers should be aware of +the fact that the mind of a child is continually +acquiring habits of thought, as its limbs are habits +of action, whether by the spontaneous and unguided +efforts of its own mind and body, or by following<span class="pagenum">[Pg 270]</span> +the training of those having the care of it. They +should be continually improving themselves in the +art of so guiding the infant dispositions, and the +exercises and actions of their charge as to form +the disposition <i>as early as possible</i>; and this course +of training would effectually preserve the child +<i>from every approach to the formation of any other +habits than those inculcated by the teacher</i>."—(Remarks, +&c., pp. 11, 12).</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> "Remarks on the Advantages of early Training and Management +of Children." By a Colonist. Ollivier, 59, Pall-Mall.</p></div> + +<p>Next to the Beliefs established by early habit, +come the propensities. Under this head, nothing +more can be necessary than to relate an anecdote +which teaches much more eloquently than any +thing I can say out of my own convictions. In +North America, a tribe of Indians attacked a white +settlement, and murdered the few inhabitants. A +woman of the tribe, however, carried away a very +young infant, and reared it as her own. The child +grew up with the Indian children, different in +complexion, but like them in every thing else. To +scalp the greatest possible number of enemies was, +in his view, the most glorious and happy thing in +the world. While he was still a youth, he was +seen by some white traders, and by them conducted +back to civilised life. He showed great +relish of his new way of life, and, especially, a +strong desire of knowledge, and a sense of reverence +which took the direction of religion; so that +he desired to become a clergyman. He went +through his college course with credit, and was<span class="pagenum">[Pg 271]</span> +ordained. He fulfilled his function well, and +appeared happy and satisfied. After a few years, +he went to serve a settlement somewhere near the +seat of war, which was then going on between +Great Britain and the United States; and before +long, there was fighting not far off. I am not +sure whether he was aware that there were Indians +in the field, (the British having some tribes of +Indians for allies,) but he went forth to see how +matters were going;—went forth in his usual +dress,—black coat, and neat white shirt and +neckcloth. When he returned, he was met by a +gentleman of his acquaintance, who was immediately +struck by an extraordinary change in the +expression of his face;—by the fire in his eye, and +the flush on his cheek;—and also by his unusually +shy and hurried manner. After asking news of +the battle, the gentleman observed, "but you are +wounded.—Not wounded!—why, there is blood +upon the bosom of your shirt." The young man +crossed his hands firmly, though hurriedly upon +his breast; and his friend, supposing that he +wished to conceal a wound which ought to be +looked to, pulled open his shirt and saw—what +made the young man let his hands fall in despair. +From between his shirt and his breast, the gentleman +took out—a bloody scalp. "I could not help +it," said this poor victim of early habit, in an +agonised voice. He turned, and ran too swiftly +to be overtaken; betook himself to the Indians,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 272]</span> +and never more appeared among the whites. No +one supposes that there was any hypocrisy in this +man while he was a clergyman. No one doubts +that he would have lived a contented life of piety, +benevolence and study, if he had never come within +sight or sound of war. When he did so, up rose +his early habitual combative and destructive propensities, +overthrowing in an instant all later +formed convictions and regenerated feelings. By +the extent of victory here, we may form some idea +of the force of early Habit, or be duly warned by +the question whether we can form any idea of it.</p> + +<p>The first habit to be formed is,—as is self-evident,—that +of obedience; for this is a necessary +preliminary to the formation of all other habits. If +mothers would but believe it, there is nothing in the +world easier than to form a habit of implicit obedience +in any child. Every child,—dependant and +imitative,—is obedient as a matter of course if +nature is not early interfered with, and put out of +her way. Every one must see that good sense on +the part of the mother is absolutely necessary,—to +observe what the course of nature is, and to adapt +her management to it. For instance,—there is no +way in which infants are more frequently, or so +early, taught disobedience as by being teased for +kisses. The mother does so love her infant's kiss,—to +see the little face put up when the loving +desire is spoken,—that she can never have enough +of it. But her sense, and her sympathy with her<span class="pagenum">[Pg 273]</span> +little one show her that it is not the same thing +with the child. Well as it loves caresses in due +measure, it can easily be fretted by too many of +them; and if the mother persists in requiring too +many while the infant is eager after something +else, she will first have to put up with a hasty and +reluctant kiss, and will next have to witness the +struggles of the child to avoid it altogether. If +too young to slip from her arms, he will hide his +face:—if he can walk, he will run away, and not +come back when she calls. She has made him +disobedient by asking of him more than he is yet +able to give. If the training begins by pleasantly +bidding him do what it is easy and pleasant to +him to do, he will do it, as a matter of course. +When it is to him a matter of course to do as he +is bid, he will prove capable of doing some things +that he does not like,—if desired in the usual cheerful +and affectionate tone. He will go to his tub +in the cold morning, and take physic, and be quiet +when he wants to romp;—all great efforts to him. +And he will get on, and become capable of greater +and greater efforts, if his faculties of opposition +and pride be not roused by any imprudence, and +if his understanding be treated with due respect +by the appeals to his obedience being such only as +are moderate and reasonable.</p> + +<p>He must be left as free as reason and convenience +allow, that his will may not be too often +crossed, and his temper needlessly fretted. What<span class="pagenum">[Pg 274]</span> +he is not to have, but would certainly wish for, must +be put out of his sight, if possible. If there are +any places where he must not go, he should see it +to be impossible to get into them:—for instance, +it is better that the fire should be well guarded +than the child forbidden to go upon the rug;—and +in either case, his gay playthings should not stand +on the mantel-piece, tempting him to climb for +them.—And so on,—through the round of his day. +Let his little duties and obligations be made easy +to him by sense and sympathy on the part of his +parents; and then let them see that the duty is +done,—the obligation fulfilled.</p> + +<p>All this is easy enough; and certainly, from all +that I have ever been able to observe, I am convinced +that success,—perfect success in forming a +habit of obedience is always possible. Where a +whole household acts in the same good spirit +towards the little creature who has to be trained,—where +no one spoils him and no one teases him,—he +will obey the bidding of the voice of gentle +authority in all he does, as simply as he obeys the +bidding of Nature when he eats and sleeps.</p> + +<p>So much for this preliminary habit, which is +essential to the formation of all others that the +parents wish to guide and establish. I will now +speak briefly of the Personal and Family Habits +which are the manifestation of those conditions of +mind of which I have treated in my preceding +chapters.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 275]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_275" name="Page_275"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.<br /> +<br /> +CARE OF THE HABITS.—PERSONAL HABITS.</h2> + + +<p>It requires some little consideration to feel +sufficiently that it is as necessary to be explicit +and earnest about the personal habits of children +as about their principles, temper, and intellectual +state. Our personal habits have become so completely +a second nature to us, that it requires +some effort to be aware how far otherwise it is +with the young,—how they have every thing to +learn; and what a serious thing it is to everybody +at some time of his life to learn to wash his own +face and button his own jacket. The conviction +comes across one very powerfully in great houses, +where little lords and ladies are seen to need +teaching in the commonest particulars of manners +and habits, as much as any young creatures about +a cottage door. Every one knows this as a matter +of fact; but still, there is something odd in seeing +children in velvet tunics and lace frocks, and silk +stockings and satin shoes, holding up their little +noses,—or <i>not</i> holding them up—to the maternal +pocket-handkerchief; or dropping fruit-stones and +raisin-stalks into papa's coat-collar, by climbing +up behind his chair. To see this natural rude<span class="pagenum">[Pg 276]</span>ness +in those to whom consummate elegance is +hereafter to appear no less natural, makes one +thoughtful for the sake of such as are to remain +comparatively rude through life; and also because +it reminds one that there is nothing in regard +to all personal habits, that children have not to +learn.</p> + +<p>It is so very serious a matter to them,—the +attainment of good personal habits,—that they +ought to be aided to the utmost by parental consideration. +This consideration is shown first in +the actual help given to the child by its mother's +hands; and afterwards by making all the arrangements +of the household as favourable as possible +to good habits in each individual.</p> + +<p>The tender mother makes the times of washing +and dressing gay and pleasant to her little infant +by the play and caresses which she loves to lavish +even more than the child delights to receive. +She can hardly overvalue the influence of these +seasons on the child's future personal habits. +Hurry, rough handling, silence, or fretfulness may +make the child hate the idea of washing and +dressing, for long years afterwards; while the +associations of a season of play and lovingness +may help on the little creature a long way in the +great work of taking care of its own person. +When the time comes,—the proud time,—when +it may stand by itself to wash, the pride and +novelty help it on; and it is rather offended if<span class="pagenum">[Pg 277]</span> +help interferes, to prevent its being exposed too +long to the cold. All this is very well; but there +comes a time afterwards when the irksomeness of +washing and dressing, and cleaning teeth, and +brushing hair, becomes a positive affliction to some +children, such as no parents that I have known +seem to have any idea of. We grown people can +scarcely remember the time when these operations +were not to us so purely mechanical as that our +minds are entertained by ideas all the time, as +much as if we were about any other business. +But children are not so dexterous, in the first +place; in the next, all labour of which they know +the extent is very oppressive to them: and again, +any incessant repetition of what they in any +degree dislike is really afflictive to them. We +must remember these things, or we shall not +understand the feebleness of will which makes a +boy neglect some part of his morning washing, +and a girl the due hair-brushing in the evening, +though both are aware that they suffer more in +conscience as it is, than they could from the +trouble, if they could rouse themselves to do the +business properly. I have known one child sick of +life because she must, in any circumstances, clean +her teeth every day;—every day for perhaps +seventy years. I have known of a little boy +in white frocks who sat mournfully alone, one +autumn day, laying the gay fallen vine-leaves in a +circle, and thinking how tired he was of life,—how<span class="pagenum">[Pg 278]</span> +dreadfully long it was, and full of care. Its machinery +overpowered him. I knew a girl, old enough +to be reproached for the badness of her handwriting,—(and +she was injudiciously reproached, without +being helped to mend it)—who suffered intensely +from this, and even more from another grief;—she +had hair which required a good deal of care, and +she was too indolent to keep it properly. These +were the two miseries of her life; and they did +make her life miserable. She did not think she +could mend her handwriting; but she knew that +she might have beautiful hair by brushing it for +ten minutes longer every night: yet she could +not do it. At last, she prayed fervently for the +removal of these two griefs,—though she knew +the fable of the Waggoner and Hercules. Now,—in +cases like these, help is wanted. Remonstrance, +disgrace, will not do, in many cases where +a little sympathy and management will. Cannot +these times be made cheerful, and the habit of +painful irresolution broken, by putting the sinner +into the company of some older member of the +family, or by employing the thoughts in some +pleasant way while the mechanical process is +going on?—I mean only while the difficulty lasts. +When habits of personal cleanliness have become +fixed and mechanical, it is most desirable (where +it can by any means be managed) for each child +to be alone,—not only for the sake of decency, +but for the benefit of the solitude and silence,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 279]</span> +morning and night, which are morally advantageous +for everybody old enough to meditate.</p> + +<p>I fear it is still necessary to teach and preach +that nobody has a right to health who does not +wash all over every day. This is done with infants; +and the practice should never be discontinued. +Every child of a family should look upon this +daily complete washing in cold water as a thing +as completely of course as getting its breakfast. +There was a time, within my remembrance, when +even respectable people thought it enough to wash +their feet once a week; and their whole bodies +when they went to the coast for sea-bathing in +August. In regard to popular knowledge of the +Laws of Health, our world <i>has</i> got on: and, after +the expositions, widely published, of those who +enable us to understand the Laws of Health, we +may hope that washing from head to foot is so +regular an affair with all decent people as to leave +no doubt or irresolution in children's minds about +how much they shall wash, any day of the year.—As +for the care of the teeth,—parents ought to +know that, in the opinion of dentists, all decay of +the teeth proceeds from the bone of which the +teeth are composed not being kept purely clean +and bright. This happens oftenest when teeth +overlap, or grow so that every part cannot be +reached. Much of this may be remedied, if not +all of it, by early application to a dentist. But +parents to whom this precaution is impossible can<span class="pagenum">[Pg 280]</span> +do much to save their children from future misery +from toothache, and indigestion through loss of +teeth, by seeing that the tooth-scrubbing is properly +performed. This is more important than +the polishing of knives and brass knockers.—As +for the brushing of a girl's long hair, it really is a +very irksome business till it becomes mechanical; +and a mother may consider a little effort at +amusement well bestowed till the habit of doing +it properly is securely formed, and the mind is +rich enough to entertain itself the while.</p> + +<p>Readers begin to yawn or skip when they meet, +in any book, with praises of early rising. Yet +how can I pass over this particular of personal +habits, when I think it of eminent importance?—I +believe it is rare to see such early rising as I +happen to think desirable. I believe it is rare to +see families fairly at their daily work by eight +o'clock,—after having had out-door exercise and +breakfast; and this, every morning in the year. +The variety of objects presented for the observation +and enjoyment of children (and of everybody else) +in the early morning hours, far surpasses that +which can be seen at any other time of day. +Even town-bred children can see more pure sky, +and quieter streets, and the country seems to have +come nearer. And in the country, there are more +animals abroad,—more squirrels, more field mice, +more birds, than at noon or in the evening. The +rooks fly higher in the dawn than at any other time;<span class="pagenum">[Pg 281]</span> +the magpies are bolder and droller; the singing +birds in the thickets beyond measure more gleeful; +and one need not tell that this is the hour for the +lark. All except very young children can keep +themselves warm in the mid-winter mornings, and +will enjoy the delight of being out under the stars, +and watching the last fragment of the moon, +hanging over the eastern horizon, clear and bright +in the breaking dawn. When these children +come in, warm, rosy, and hungry, at seven o'clock, +or half-past, and sit down to their breakfast, they +seem hardly of the same order of creatures with +such as come sauntering down from their chambers, +when their parents have half done their meal;—sauntering +because they are tired with dressing, or +have had bad dreams, and have not recovered +their spirits. And what a difference it makes in +the houses of rich and poor whether the breakfast +things are standing about till nearly ten o'clock, +or whether the family have by that time been at +work for nearly two of the brightest, and freshest, +and quietest, hours of the day!</p> + +<p>In every industrious household there should be +a bell. This is an admonition which tries no +tempers, and gives no personal offence. If the +father himself rings the family up in the mornings, +it is a fine thing for everybody. If he +cannot,—if he is too weary with his day's work +for early rising, or if the mother is disturbed with +her baby in the night,—if neither parent can be<span class="pagenum">[Pg 282]</span> +early in the morning, then let it not be insisted on +that the children shall be so. It is a less evil that +they should forego all the advantages of early +rising than that any contest on the subject should +take place between them and their parents. I +have seen cases where the parents could not, or +did not, appear till nine o'clock or later, but yet +made it a point of conscience with the children to +be early;—with the most disastrous effect. The +children were conscientious, and they did try. +When they now and then succeeded, they were +satisfied and triumphant, and thought they should +never fail again. But the indolence of the growing +season of life was upon them: and there was +the languor of waiting for breakfast. In the +summer mornings, they were chilly and languid +over their books; and in the winter, the fire made +them sleepy. They grew later and later; they +were rebuked, remonstrated with,—even warned +against following the example of their parents: +but they sank deeper into indolence. At last, the +suffering of conscience became so great that it was +thrown off by a most audacious effort. I happened +to be a witness to the incident; and I have never +lost the impression of it. The two girls were only +half-dressed at half-past eight. They heard their +mother's door open, and looked at each other. +She came (herself only half-dressed) to say that +she had been defied long enough, and she <i>would</i> +be obeyed. She slapped them heartily. As she<span class="pagenum">[Pg 283]</span> +shut the door, the younger sister, all horror and +dismay, stole a look at the elder. The elder +laughed; and the younger was evidently delighted +to join. I saw, on the instant, that it was all over +with the mother's authority. The spirit of defiance +had risen, and burst the bonds of conscience. +Late rising,—the very latest,—curse as it is,—is +better than this. What a struggle is saved in +such cases—what a cost of energy, and health, +and conscience, by a complete establishment of +good habits, through the example of the parents! +If the father be but happy enough to be able to take +out his little troop into the fields, or merely for a +stretch along the high road, in the freshness of +the morning, what a gain there is on every hand! +He has the best of their affections, if he can make +himself their companion at this most cheery hour +of the day; and they will owe to him a habit which +not only enhances the enjoyment of life, but positively +lengthens its duration. Then, after their +walk of a mile or two, they find mother and breakfast +awaiting them at home,—the house in order +and already aired; and everything ready for business +when the morning meal is done. They are +in the heart of their work, whatever it be, when +their neighbours are opening their chamber doors. +In London, I am aware, one meets with the plea, +in every case, that early rising is impossible, on +account of the lateness of the hours of everybody +else. I only know that when I lived in lodgings<span class="pagenum">[Pg 284]</span> +in London, I used to boil my coffee on the table +at seven o'clock,—giving no trouble to servants,—and +that I used to think it pleasant to have my +pen in hand at half-past seven,—the windows +open to the fresh watered streets, and shaded with +summer blinds, and the flower-girls stationing +themselves below,—their gay baskets of roses still +wet with dew. I think London streets pleasanter +in the dawn than at any other time. In country +towns, I know that families can and do keep early +hours, without any real difficulty: and in the +country, everybody can do as he pleases. I need +not say that growing children must have their +breakfast before they feel any exhaustion for want +of it. I do not understand the old-fashioned +method of early rising;—working hard for three +or four hours before eating anything at all. If +adults can bear this, it is certain that children +cannot. I may mention here that a prime means +of health for persons of all ages is to drink abundance +of cold water on rising, and during the vigorous +exercise of the early morning. This morning +regimen, if universally adopted, would save the +doctors of our island half their work.</p> + +<p>There is no part of the personal habits of children +more important than that which relates to +their eating. We must remember how vivid the +pleasures of the senses are to children,—how +strong their desire of every kind of gratification,—and +how small their store, as yet, of those intel<span class="pagenum">[Pg 285]</span>lectual +and moral resources which make grown +people careless of the pleasures of sense. If we +look back to our own childhood, and remember +our intense pleasure in looking at brilliant colours, +and at hearing sweet sounds, unconnected with +words and ideas,—such as the chords of an Eolian +harp,—and the thrill of pleasure we had at the sight +of a favourite dish upon the table, we shall be aware +that, however ridiculous such emotions appear to +us now, they are realities which must be taken into +account in dealing with children.—The object is so +to feed children as to give them the greatest amount +of relish which consists with their health of body +and mind. If their appetites are not considered +enough, they will suffer in body; if too much, they +will suffer infinitely more in mind. I have seen both +extremes; and I must say, I think the consequences +so important as to deserve more consideration than +the subject usually meets with.</p> + +<p>In one large family which I had for some time +the opportunity of observing, there was a pretty +strict discipline kept up throughout, with excellent +effect on the whole; but in some respects it was +carried too far. Some of the children were delicate, +particularly in stomach; and the intention +of the parents was that this should be got over, +as better for the children than yielding to it. +Three or four of the children throve well on the +basin of bread and milk, which was the breakfast +of them all: but there was one little girl who<span class="pagenum">[Pg 286]</span> +never could digest milk well; and the suffering of +that child was evident enough. She did not particularly +dislike milk; and she never asked for +any thing else. That would have been, in her +eyes, a piece of shocking audacity. She had a +great reverence for rules; and she seemed never +to dream of any rule being set aside for her sake, +however hardly it might bear upon her. So she +went on for years having the feeling of a heavy +lump in her throat for the whole of every morning,—sometimes +choking with it, and sometimes +stealing out into the yard to vomit; and, worse +than the lump in the throat, she had depression +of spirits for the first half of every day, which +much injured the action of her mind at her +lessons, and was too much for her temper. She +and her friends were astonished at the difference +in her when she went, at, I think, twelve years +old, to stay for a month in a house where she had +tea-breakfasts. She did, to be sure, cast very +greedy looks at her cup of tea when it was +coming; and she did make rather a voracious +breakfast; but this was wearing off before the end +of the month. She went home to her milk-breakfasts, +her lump in the throat, and her morning +depression of spirits and irritability. But at last +the time came when she was tall enough to have +tea with the older ones; and in a little while, she +showed no signs of greediness, and thought no +more about her breakfast than any body else.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 287]</span></p> + +<p>I remember another case, where a similar mistake +appeared more broadly still in its bad effects. +In a family where it was the custom to have a +great rice-pudding every Saturday, and sometimes +also on the other baking day,—Wednesday,—there +was a little fellow who hated rice. This was +inconvenient. His mother neither liked to see +him go without half his dinner, nor to provide a +dish for him; for the child was disposed to be +rather greedy, and troublesome with fancies about +his eating. But in the case of the rice, the disgust +was real, and so strong that it would have been +better to let it alone. His mother, however, saw +that it would be a benefit to him if he could get +over it: and she took advantage of a strong desire +he had for a book, to help him over his difficulty. +The little fellow saw at a shop-window a copy +of the Seven Champions of Christendom, with a +gay picture of the dragon and St. George: and +his longing for this little book was of that raging +sort which I suppose only children ever feel. He +was to have this book if he would eat rice-pudding. +He eagerly promised; feeling at the moment, I +dare say, when there was no rice within sight, as +if he could live upon it all his days, to get what he +wanted. When Saturday came, I watched him. +I saw how his gorge rose at the sight of the +pudding: but he fixed his eyes upon the opposite +wall, gulped down large spoonfuls, wiped his +mouth with disgust, and sighed when he had done,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 288]</span> +demanded his fee, ran for the book, and alas! had +finished it, and got almost tired of it, before bedtime. +The worst of it was,—he never again tasted +rice. Here was the moral injury. He was perfectly +aware that his bargain was to eat rice-pudding +whenever it was upon table; and he +meant to do it. But it required more fortitude +than he could command when the desire for the +book was gratified and gone: and his honour and +conscience were hurt. Another bad consequence +of this mistake about two or three of his dislikes +was that he thought too much about eating and +drinking; was dainty in picking his meat, and +selfish about asking for the last bit, or the last +but one, of any thing good. Of course, I do not +speak in censure, when I give such anecdotes. +I blame nobody where nobody meant any harm. +On the one side there was a mistake; and it was +followed by its inevitable consequences on the +other.</p> + +<p>In such a case, where there is a large family, +with a plain common table, I should think the best +way is for a child in ordinary health to take his +chance. If there is enough of meat, potatoes, and +bread to make a meal of, he may very well go +without pudding, and should, on no account, have +one provided expressly for himself: but he should +be allowed to refuse it without remark. Where +the mother can, without expense and too much +inconvenience, consider the likings and dislikes of<span class="pagenum">[Pg 289]</span> +her children in a silent way, her kindness will +induce her to do it: but it must be in a quiet way, +or she will lead them to think too much about the +thing; and to suppose that she thinks it an +important matter.</p> + +<p>This affair of the table is one worth a good deal +of attention, as it regards the temper and manners +of the household, and the personal habits of +each. There is no reason why the father's likings +as to food should not be seen to be cared for. +If he is a selfish eater, he will ensure that the +matter is duly attended to. If he is above such +care for himself,—if it is clear that his pleasure at +his meals is in having his family about him,—that +is a case in which the mother need not conceal +her desire to provide what is liked best. The +father, who never asks or thinks about what is for +dinner, is most likely to be the one to find before +him what he particularly relishes; a dish cooked, +perhaps, by his wife's or his little daughter's hands. +And, again, if the little daughters see that their +mother never thinks about her own likings, perhaps +they will put in a word on market-day, or +at such times, to remind her that somebody +cares for her tastes. Then, again, in middle-class +families, where the servants dine after the family, +they should always be openly considered. After +the pudding has been helped round once, and +some quick eaters are ready for a second plateful, +it must be an understood thing that enough is to<span class="pagenum">[Pg 290]</span> +be left for the servants.—On the ground of the +danger of causing too much thought about eating +and drinking, it is desirable that, where the family +take their meals together, all should fare alike. +If there is anything at table which the younger +children ought not to have, it is better that they +should, if possible, dine by themselves. This is +the plan in great houses, where the little ones +dine at one o'clock, eating freely and without +controversy of what is on the table, because there +is nothing there that can hurt them. If the +family dine together, and there are two or more +dishes of meat on the table at the same time, all +must learn the good manners of dividing their +choice, so that the father may not have to send a +helping of goose to everybody, while none is left +for himself, but that the mother's boiled mutton +may have left half the goose for the choice of the +parents. All this is clear enough: but, if a present +arrives of anything nice,—oysters, or salmon, or +oranges, or such good things as relations and +friends often send to each other, it seems best for +all the household to enjoy the treat together, who +are old enough to relish it.</p> + +<p>It can scarcely be necessary to mention that +the earliest time is the best for training children +to proper behaviour at table, as every where else. +Every one of them has to be trained; for how are +the little things to know, unless they are taught, +that they are not to put their fingers in their<span class="pagenum">[Pg 291]</span> +plates, or to drain their mugs, or to make shapes +with their potato, or to crumble their bread, or to +kick their chairs, or to run away to the window +before dinner is done? They will require but +little teaching, if they see everybody about them +sitting and eating properly; but it is hard upon +children when they have been allowed to take +liberties and be rude at the nursery dinner, and +then have everything to learn, under painful constraint, +as they are growing up.</p> + +<p>I have been sometimes struck with the conviction +that the bad manners I have seen at the +school-room table arise from a misconception as +to what dinner is. In one house, you see the +busy father hurry from his work to table, hardly +stopping to wash his hands, turning over to his +wife the task of helping the children, or even +pushing round the dish for them to help themselves,—throwing +his dinner down his throat, +and after it his solitary pint of porter; snatching +his hat, and off again to business, almost without +saying "good bye" to any one. When he is +gone, the others think they have liberty to do as +they please; and a pretty scene of confusion +there is,—one child scraping a dish, another +kneeling on a chair to reach over for something, +a third at the window: and the mother with baby +on her arm, coming at last to carry off the dishes, +saying that she is sure dinner has been about +quite long enough, while some of the children are<span class="pagenum">[Pg 292]</span> +perhaps really wanting more.—Again: one sees +in a rich gentleman's family, ill-managed, a great +mistake as to dinner. The bell is rung at the +nominal dinner-hour,—or probably a good deal +after it: for servants can hardly be punctual under +such management. The soup is on the table, +and one or two of the family are in their seats, +waiting for the rest. One young lady has her +fancy-work in her hand: another has the newspaper. +Papa comes in for luncheon. He will +have a plate of soup. The reader jumps up to +help him; but the soup is cold. As nobody seems +to wish for any cold soup, it is sent away; but +turned back at the door by a hungry boy, who has +only just learned that dinner is ready, and is +ravenous for the first thing he can get to eat. +While the joint is helped, one drops in from the +stable,—another from the music-lesson; a third +from botanising in the wood; and the first comers +run away to look for something in the library, or +to have a turn on the gravel walk, saying that +they do not care for pudding, and will come back +for cheese. Altogether, it is an hour and a half +before the cloth is removed, and the weary governess +can get her charge in order for the Italian +master,—if indeed he be not come and gone in the +interval. This is an extreme, but not an impossible +case: and in such a case, the plea we shall +hear is that it is a waste of time for a whole family +to sit doing nothing but eating their dinners in<span class="pagenum">[Pg 293]</span> +the middle of the day: and that formality makes +eating of too much importance. Such is the plea; +and here lies the mistake. The object of dinner +is not only eating but sociable rest. The dinner +hour is a seasonable pause amidst the hurry of the +busy day; and the harder people have to work, the +completer should be the pause of the dinner hour. +The arrangement is very important to health; for +the largest meal of the day is best digested when +it is eaten with regularity, at leisure, and in a +cheerful mood of mind; and when a space of +cheerful leisure is left after it. And more important +still is the arrangement to the manners and +tempers and dispositions of the family. It is a +great thing that every member of a household +should be habituated to meet the rest in the middle +of the day, neatly dressed and refreshed;—the +boys' coats brushed, and the girls' frocks changed +or set straight; the hair smoothed, and face and +hands just washed. It is a great thing that they +should take their chief nourishment of the day in +the midst of the most cheerful conversation, and +at a time so set apart as that nobody is hankering +after doing anything else. When we consider too +that after dinner is the only time between Sunday +and Sunday that the working father has for play +with his infants,—who are in their beds, or too +sleepy for fun, when he comes home in the evening,—we +shall own that there is no waste of time +in the dinner hour, even if nothing whatever is<span class="pagenum">[Pg 294]</span> +done but eating and talking. In fact, it is this +time which, from its importance, ought to be saved +from all encroachment. The washed faces, and +the cloth on the table, and the hot dinner should +all be in readiness when the father appears. Not +a minute of his precious hour should be lost or +spoiled by any one's unpunctuality, or any body's +ill-manners. All should go smoothly at his table +by every one's gentleness and cheerfulness and +good-breeding. When the meal is finished, all the +clearing away should be quickly and quietly done, +that he may have yet a clear half-hour for rest, or +for play with the little ones. Where this hour is +managed as it ought to be,—(and nothing is easier +under the care of a sensible mother) the busy +father goes forth to his work again with his mind +even more refreshed by his hour of cheerful rest +than his body is strengthened by food.</p> + +<p>On the remaining topic of Personal Habits,—Modesty,—Decency—it +cannot be necessary to +say much. The points of mistake which strike +me the most are two:—I think that in almost +every part of the world, people herd too much and +too continually together:—and I think that few +people are aware how early it is right to respect +the modesty of an infant.</p> + +<p>As to the first point;—it is one of the heaviest +misfortunes of our country,—I speak advisedly,—that +among whole classes of our people, poverty or +want of space from other causes, compels them to<span class="pagenum">[Pg 295]</span> +herd together in crowds, night and day. No words +are needed to show how little hope of health there +can be when people live in this way; and even +less hope of good morals. Among classes more +favoured than these, it appears that there is little +thought of making the provision that might easily +be made for more privacy than people are yet +accustomed to. I fear it is the wish that is wanting: +for "where there's a will there's a way;" +and I have been in many houses, both at home +and abroad, where the requisite privacy might +have been had, if any wish for it had existed. In +the factory villages in the United States, I was +painfully struck by this. I saw good and pretty +houses built from the savings of the factory +girls,—with their shady green blinds, and their +charming piazzas without; and places within for +book-shelves, piano and pictures and work-tables; +but not a corner of any house was there where +any young woman of the household could sit by +herself for ten minutes in a day, or say her prayers, +or wash. The beds were ranged in dormitories; +or four or six in a room: and there were not even +washing-closets. Here, there was no excuse of +inability; and at home I too often see the same +thing, where there is no sufficient excuse of +inability.</p> + +<p>Where each child cannot possibly have a room, +or the use of a dressing-closet to itself, arrangements +may easily be made, by having folding<span class="pagenum">[Pg 296]</span> +screens, to secure absolute privacy to every member +of a household, for purposes of the mind, as well +as the body. When I see how indispensable it is to +the anxious and hard-worked governess to have a +room to herself, and how earnestly she (very properly) +insists upon it, I am always sorry when I +remember how many have to go without this +comfort,—which should be considered a necessity +of life. When I think of the school-boy, with his +burden of school cares upon him, and the young +girl, thoughtful, anxious and irritable, as most +people are, at times, in entering upon the realities +of life; and of the wearied servant maid, and of +the child in the first fervours of his self-kindling +piety, I pity them if they have no place which they +can call their own, for ever so short a time in the +day, where they can be free from the consciousness +of eyes being upon them. The thing <i>may</i> be done. +Mrs. Taylor of Ongar, the wife of a dissenting +minister, and mother of a large family, who from +an early age worked for their bread,—did contrive, +by giving her mind to it, to manage separate sleeping +places for a wonderful number of her children; +and, where this could not possibly be accomplished +for all, she so arranged closets and hours as that +every one could have his or her season of retirement, +secure from disturbance.</p> + +<p>As for the case of the infant, to which I alluded +above,—I believe it to be this. The natural +modesty of every human being may be left to<span class="pagenum">[Pg 297]</span> +take care of itself; if only we are careful that it +is really left entirely free. It is the simplest +matter in the world for the mother to give this +modesty its earliest direction during the first +weeks, months, and year or two of life. After +that, it will not fail, if only it be duly respected. +That this respect should begin very early is desirable, +not because the innocent little creature has +then any consciousness which can be injured by +anything it sees or is allowed to do; but because +as it grows up, it should be unable ever to remember +the time when every thing was not arranged +with the same modesty and decorum as at a later +period. Again, in order to the preservation of +true modesty, the smallest possible amount of +thought should be bestowed upon it. All transactions, +personal and domestic, should go on with +the smoothness of perfect regularity, propriety, +and consequent freedom of mind and ease of +manners. And it conduces much to this that +there should never have been a time when the +child was conscious of any particular change in its +management. It should never have seen much of +any body's personal cares; and the more gradually +it slides into the care of its own person, with its +accompanying privacy, the better is the chance +that it will not dwell on such matters at all, but +have its mind free for other subjects, wearing its +modesty as unconsciously as it carries the expression +of the eye, or utters the tones of its voice.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 298]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_298" name="Page_298"></a>CHAPTER XXV.<br /> +<br /> +CARE OF THE HABITS.—FAMILY HABITS.</h2> + + +<p>It is difficult to keep a distinction between personal +and family habits. In our last chapter, on +Personal Habits, we got to the family dinner +table; and here, in speaking of Family Habits, we +shall doubtless fall in with the characteristics of +individuals.</p> + +<p>First; as to occupations. Unless I knew for +what class of readers I was writing this, it is +difficult to assume what their occupations may +be. In one class, the father may be busy in his +office; and the mother in ordering a large household, +taking care of the poor in her neighbourhood, +and in study or keeping up her accomplishments; +while the boys are with their tutor, and the girls +with their governess, and the infants in the +nursery.—In another, the mother may be instructing +her girls, while busy at her needle; and +the boys may be at a day-school, and the +father in his warehouse or shop.—And again, this +may be read by parents who cannot spare their +children from home, because they keep no servants, +and who charge themselves with teaching their +young people, in such hours as can be spared from<span class="pagenum">[Pg 299]</span> +the actual business of living. One thing, however, +is common to all these; and it is enough to proceed +upon. All these <i>are</i> occupied. They have +all business to do which ought to engage their +faculties, regularly and diligently: so that the +great principles and rules of family morals cannot +fail to apply.</p> + +<p>The first great point concerns them all equally:—Economy +of Time. Nobody yet ever had too +much time; and the rich need all they can save +of it as much as the poorest. And the methods +by which time is to be made the most of are universally +the same. This seems to be everywhere felt, +except among the ignorant. The most remarkable +care, as to punctuality, is actually found, in our +country, among the highest classes. It has bean +said that "punctuality is the politeness of the +great:" and so it is. It shows their consideration +for other people's time and convenience: but there +is more in it than that. The Queen, who is extraordinarily +punctual, and statesmen, and landed-proprietors, +and all who bear a burden of very +important duty, are more sensible than those who +have less responsibility of the mischief of wasting +minutes which are all wanted for business; and +yet more, of the waste of energy and freedom of +thought, and of composure and serenity which +are caused by failures in punctuality. For my +own part, I acknowledge that not only is any +compulsory loss of time the trial, of all little trials,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 300]</span> +that I most dislike, but that nothing whatever so +chafes my temper as failure in punctuality in those +with whom I have transactions. And to me, one +of the charms of intercourse with enlightened and +high-bred people is their reliableness in regard to +all engagements, and their exact economy of time. +To go from a disorderly household where no one +seems to have any time, and where one has to try +hard all day long to keep one's temper, to a great +man's house, where half a hundred people move +about their business as if they were one; where +all is quiet and freedom and leisure, as if the +business of life went on of itself, leaving minds at +liberty for other work, is one of the most striking +contrasts I have met with in society. And I have +seen the same order and punctuality prevail, with +much the same effect, in very humble households, +where, instead of a score or two of servants, there +were a few well-trained children to do the work. +It is a thing which does not depend on wealth, +but on intelligence. There is, (here and there, +but not often) a great house to be seen where you +cannot get anything you want till you have rung +half-a-dozen times, and waited half an hour; where +you are pretty sure to leave some of your luggage +behind you, or be too late for the train, without +any fault of your own; and where the meals, notwithstanding +all the good cookery, are comfortless, +from the restlessness and uncertainty of family +and guests, and the natural discouragement of<span class="pagenum">[Pg 301]</span> +the servants. And there are houses of four rooms, +where all goes smoothly from the politeness which +arises from intelligence and affectionate consideration. +When a new Administration came into +office, some years ago, the Ministers agreed that not +one of them should ever be waited for, on any occasion +of meeting. At the first Cabinet dinner, the +party went to table as the clock finished striking, +though the Prime Minister had not arrived. The +Prime Minister was only half a minute late; but +he apologised, as for an offence against good +manners. What would be thought of this in +homes where the young people come dropping +down to breakfast when their parents have half +done, or where father or mother keeps the children +fretting and worrying because they are waiting for +breakfast when they ought to be about their morning +business!</p> + +<p>It may be said that the fretting and worrying +are the greater offence of the two: and this is +very true. So much the worse for the unpunctuality +which causes a greater sin than itself. Why +be subject to either? If a young person, no longer +manageable as a child, continues, after all reasonable +methods have been tried, to annoy his family +by a habit of wasting his own time and theirs, +there is no use in losing temper about it. Scolding +and fretfulness will not bring him round, if other +methods have failed. He must be borne with +(though by no means indulged) and pitied as the<span class="pagenum">[Pg 302]</span> +slave of a bad habit. But how much better to +avoid any such necessity! And it might always +be avoided.</p> + +<p>The way in which people usually fall into unpunctual +habits is, I think, from interest in what +they are about, whether it be dreaming in bed, or +enjoying a walk, or translating a difficult passage, +or finishing a button-hole in a shirt, or writing a +postscript to a letter. In households where punctuality +is really a principle, it should be a truth +ever before all eyes that whatever each individual +is about is of less importance than respect to the +whole family. In a school, when the bell rings, +one girl leaves off in the middle of a bar of music, +another at the middle line of a repetition, and a +third when she is within two figures of the end of +her sum. The time and temper of mistress and +companions must be respected first, and these +things finished afterwards. And so it is in a well +ordered household. The parents sacrifice their +immediate interest in what they are about; and +so must the children. And so they will, and with +ease, when the thing is made an invariable habit, +from the earliest time they can remember.</p> + +<p>It is this punctuality, this undeviating regularity +which is the greatest advantage that school +has over home education, in regard to study. In +a large family, where there is much business of +living and few servants, it really is very difficult to +secure quiet and regularity for the children's<span class="pagenum">[Pg 303]</span> +lessons. It seems at any one moment, of less +importance that the sum should be done, and the +verb conjugated, just for that once, than that the +boy should run an errand, or the girl hold the +baby. Now this will never do: and the small +progress in learning usually made by the home-taught +shows that it does not answer. The consideration +is not of the particular sum, or practice +in saying the verb, but of the habit of the children's +minds. It <i>is</i> of consequence in itself that sums +should be done and verbs learned in their proper +season, because they cannot be so easily mastered +afterwards; and there is plenty to be done afterwards; +but much more important is it that the +children should acquire that punctuality of faculties +which grows out of punctuality of habits: and +this can never be when there is any uncertainty +or insecurity about the inviolability of their lesson-time. +I know how difficult it is to manage this +point, and how very hard it is for the mother to +resist each day's temptation, if she has not fortified +herself by system and arrangement, and by keeping +constantly before her mind that nothing that +her children can do by being called off from their +books can be so important as what they sacrifice +at every interruption. If it is possible for her to +find any corner of the house where they may be +undisturbed, and any hour of the day when she +will allow no person whatever to call off her attention +from them, she may do them something like<span class="pagenum">[Pg 304]</span> +justice: but she never can, though the books and +slates may be about all the morning, if she admits +any neighbour, or allows any interruption whatever. +If possible, she will fix upon an hour when +she may settle down with her plain-sewing, which +requires no attention; and when her neighbours +all know that they will not be admitted. One +single hour, diligently employed, may effect a great +deal. And it need not be all that the children +give to study, though it be all that she can spare. +They may learn at some other time in the day the +lessons which she is to hear during the hour: and +in that case, she must see that they are protected +in their time of learning, as well as of repeating +their lessons. Whether they are in their own +rooms, or in the common sitting room, or she can +spare any place for a school room, she must see +that they have their minds to themselves, to do +their business properly. If the father relieves +her of the teaching, and hears the lessons at +night, she will see more reason than ever for doing +all she can to facilitate their being well learned.</p> + +<p>If the time for lessons be necessarily but one +hour in the day, let not the parents be uneasy, +however much they might wish that their children +should have their six hours of study, like those of +richer people. Perhaps they can give both boys +and girls educational advantages which those of +the rich have not;—advantages which offer +themselves in the natural course of humble life.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 305]</span> +I have witnessed a process of education for boys +in a middle-class home which could not well be +instituted in a great house, and among a multitude +of servants, but which was of extraordinary +benefit to the lads who were made happy by it. +Their father gave into their charge some of the +departments of the comforts of the house. One +had charge of the gas-pipes and lamps. He was +responsible for their good condition; and he was +paid the same sum per annum that supervision +by a workman would have cost. Another had +charge of the locks and keys, the door-handles, +sash-lines and window-bolts, bells and bell-wires: +and he was paid in the same manner. Each had +his workbench and tools in a convenient place; +and, if every part of his province was always in +order, so that there were no expensive repairs, he +had some money left over,—which was usually +spent in buying materials for mechanical handiworks. +These lads were happier than poor Louis +XVI. of France, who was so fond of making locks +that he had a complete locksmith's workshop fitted +up in a retired part of his palace: and delighted +to spend there every hour that he could command. +<i>He</i> was obliged to conceal his pursuit, both from +the absurdity and the uselessness of it in his +position; while these lads had at once the gratification +of their faculties, and the dignity of usefulness. +There are many offices about every house +which may well be confided to boys, if they<span class="pagenum">[Pg 306]</span> +are intelligent and trustworthy;—that is, well +educated up to the point required; and the filling +of such offices faithfully is in itself as good a +process of education as need be wished.</p> + +<p>There is no need to declare the same thing +about girls; for I suppose nobody questions it. I +go further than most persons, I believe, however, +in desiring thorough practice in domestic occupations, +from an early age, for girls. I do not see +why the natural desire and the natural faculty for +housewifery which I think I see in every girl I +meet, should be baffled because her parents are +rich enough to have servants to do and to superintend +everything about the house. If there was +a king who could not help being a locksmith, +I know of a countess who could not help being +a sempstress. She made piles of plain linen, just +for the pleasure of the work, and gave them away +to her friends. Now, it is a very serious thing +to baffle natural desires and abilities so strong +as these, on account of mere external fortunes. +If a girl of any rank has the economic faculties +strong, it is hard upon her that they may not find +their natural exercise in a direction,—that of +household care,—which is appropriate to every +woman, be she who she may; and if these faculties +are less strong than they are usually found to be +in girls, there is the more reason that they should +be well exercised, as far as they will go.</p> + +<p>I am sure that some,—perhaps most,—girls<span class="pagenum">[Pg 307]</span> +have a keener relish of household drudgery than +of almost any pleasure that could be offered them. +They positively like making beds, making fires, +laying the cloth and washing up crockery, baking +bread, preserving fruit, clear-starching and ironing. +And why in the world should they not do it? +Why should not the little lady have her little +ironing box, and undertake the ironing of the +pocket-handkerchiefs? I used to do this; and I +am sure it gave me a great deal of pleasure, and +did me nothing but good.—On washing and +ironing days, in houses of the middle class, where +all the servants are wanted in the wash-house or +laundry, why should not the children do the +service of the day? It will be a treat to them to +lay the breakfast cloth, and bring up the butter +from the cellar, and toast the bread; and, when +breakfast is over, to put everything in its place +again, and wash the china, and rub and polish +the trays. They may do the same again at +dinner; and while the servants are at meals, they +may carry on the ironing in the laundry. And +afterwards, there comes that capital exercise +of sense and patience and skill,—the stocking-darning, +which, done properly, is a much higher +exercise than many people suppose. And when +visitors come, why should not the girls have the +chief pleasure which "company" gives to them,—the +making the custard and the tarts, dishing up +the fruit, and bringing out the best table linen?<span class="pagenum">[Pg 308]</span> +And what little girl is there in a market town +who does not like going to market with her father +or her mother, till she can be trusted to go by herself? +Does she not like seeing the butcher's cleverness +in cutting off what is wanted; and trying to +guess the weight of joints by the look; and admiring +the fresh butter, and the array of fowls, +and the heaps of eggs, and the piles of vegetables +and fruit? I believe it is no small treat to a girl +to jump up early on the market-day morning, and +reckon on the sight she is going to see. The +anxiety may be great when she begins to be the +family purchaser: but it is a proud office too; and +when the first shyness is over, there is much +variety and pleasantness in it.</p> + +<p>By all means, as I have said, let the girls' +economic faculties take the household direction, +if they point that way, whatever be their fortunes +and expectations. It can never do any woman +harm to know, in the only perfect way, by +experience, how domestic affairs should be managed. +But, when the thing is done at all, let +it be well done. Let the girl be really taught, +and not suffered to blunder her way through, in a +manner which could not be allowed in regard to +anything taught as a lesson. One reason why +girls know so much less than they should do, and +so much less than they wish to do about household +affairs, is that justice is not done them by +proper teaching. The daughters of the opulent<span class="pagenum">[Pg 309]</span> +are at school, and have no opportunity of learning +till they are too old to begin properly: but +the case of middle and lower class girls is hardly +better. When the mother is hurried, it is easier +to do a thing herself than to teach, or wait +for, an inexperienced hand: but a girl will +never learn, if her enterprise is taken out of +her hand at the critical moment. Nothing is +more easily learned, or more sure to be remembered +than the household processes that come +under the hands of women: but then, they must +be first clearly understood and carried through. +Here then, the mother must have a little patience. +She must bear to see a batch of bread or pastry +spoiled, or muslins ironed wrong side out, or a +custard "broke," or a loin of mutton mistaken +for the neck, a few times over, and much awkwardness +and slowness shown, before her little daughters +become trusty handmaids. But, if she be a +true mother, she will smile at this; and the father +will not be put out if the pie is burned on one +side, or the bread baked too quick, if he is told +that this is a first trial by a new hand. He will +say what he can that is encouraging, and hope +for a perfect pie or loaf next time.</p> + +<p>I believe it is now generally agreed, among +those who know best, that the practice of sewing +has been carried much too far for health, even in +houses where there is no poverty or pressure of any +kind. No one can well be more fond of sewing<span class="pagenum">[Pg 310]</span> +than I am; and few, except professional sempstresses, +have done more of it: and my testimony +is that it is a most hurtful occupation, except +where great moderation is observed. I think it +is not so much the sitting and stooping posture as +the incessant monotonous action and position of +the arms, that causes such wear and tear. Whatever +it may be, there is something in prolonged +sewing which is remarkably exhausting to the +strength, and irritating beyond endurance to the +nerves. This is only where sewing is almost the +only employment, or is carried on for several hours +together. When girls are not so fond of sewing +as I was in my youth, and use the needle only as +girls usually do, there is no cause for particular +anxiety: but the mother should carefully vary the +occupations of a girl disposed to be sedentary. +If pleasant reading or conversation can go on the +while, it is well. The family meals too, and other +interruptions, will break off the employment, +probably, before it has gone too far. But, if there +is the slightest sign of that nervous distress called +"the fidgets" (which truly deserves the name of +"distress") or any paleness of countenance, lowness +of spirits, or irritability of temper, there is +reason to suppose that the needle has been plied +too far; and, however unwilling the girl may be +to leave work which she is bent upon finishing, it is +clearly time that she was in the open air, or +playing with the baby, or about some stirring<span class="pagenum">[Pg 311]</span> +business in the house. I have always had a strong +persuasion that the greater part of the sewing done +in the world will ere long be done by machinery. +It appears much more easy than many things that +are done by machinery now; and when it is considered +how many minute stitches go to the +making of a garment, it seems strange that some +less laborious and slow method of making joins +and edges has not been invented before this. +Surely it will be done in the course of a few generations; +and a great blessing the change will be +to women, who must, by that time, have gained +admission to many occupations now kept from +them by men, through which they may earn a +maintenance more usefully and with less sacrifice +of health than by the present toils of the sempstress. +The progress made in spinning, weaving, +and especially knitting by machinery, and in +making water-proof cloaks and other covering +without the help of the needle, seems to point +with certainty to an approaching time when the +needle will be almost superseded. With this, and +the consequent saving of time, must come a +greater abundance of clothing, and an accompanying +cheapness, which will be a great blessing to a +large class by whom good and sufficient clothing +cannot now be obtained. Meantime, our ways +are improved, by the turning over of some of the +work to machinery. The sewing-schools to which +young ladies were sent in the last century, to sit<span class="pagenum">[Pg 312]</span> +six hours a-day on hard benches, too high for +their feet to touch the ground, compelled to hold +themselves upright, and yet to pore over fine +cambric and linen, to do microscopic marking and +stitching, are heard of no more. In their day, +they bent many spines, spoiled many eyes, and +plagued many a young creature with back-ache +for life; so we may rejoice that they are gone, and +must take care that none of their mischief is done +at home, while all really useful good sewing can +very easily be taught there.</p> + +<p>One change which has taken place in our society +since the peace has struck me much. Since the +continent was opened to us, almost all who can +afford to travel, more or less, have been abroad. +Struck with the advantages to themselves of +having their minds opened and enlarged by intercourse +with foreign nations, and by access to +foreign literature, art, and methods of education +in some respects superior to our own, they have +naturally desired to give such advantages to their +children, while they were yet young enough to +benefit fully by them. Great numbers of children, +and young people yet growing, have been carried +abroad by their parents, and, of course, have +obtained more or less of the "advantages" for +which they went. But at what cost? In my +opinion, at a fatal one. Much might be said of +the danger to health and life of a complete change +of diet and habits at so early an age. A friend of<span class="pagenum">[Pg 313]</span> +mine was telling me, and I was agreeing with her, +that she and I hardly know of a family of children +who have travelled abroad for any length of time +that has not been fatally visited with the dreadful +bilious fever which, when it spares life, too often +does some irreparable injury to the frame,—to +brain, or sense, or limbs. Bad as this is, it is not +the worst. The practice is against Nature; and +those who adopt it must bear the retribution for +offences against Nature's laws. Nature ordains a +kind of vegetative existence for children till the +frame is complete, and strengthened in its completeness. +The utmost regularity of habits (which +by no means implies dulness of life) produces, +beyond all question, the most healthy frames, and +there cannot be a sadder mistake than to suppose +that any greater variety than the most ordinary +life affords is necessary to the quickening or entertainment +of a child's faculties. Life, with all its +objects, is new to him. Its commonest incidents +are deeply interesting to him. Birth and death +are exciting to him, and solemn beyond expression. +The opening and close of the seasons, and their +varying pleasures and pursuits, the changes in +the lives of the people about him; the evolution +of his own little history,—the expanding +of his faculties, his achievements in study, his +entrance upon more and more advanced duties +and intercourses;—these are enough to keep his +mind in full life and vigour: and he cannot<span class="pagenum">>[Pg 314]</span> +receive his experience of life into the depths of +his being unless he is at rest. If he is to commune +with his own heart, he must be still. If he +is to gather into his mind ripe observations of +nature and man, and to store them up reflectively, +he must be still. If his sentiments and emotions +are to be the natural result of the workings of life +upon him, he must be still, that life may work +upon him undisturbed. I have devoted a close +attention to this subject; and I certainly conclude, +from my own observation, that the intellectual +and moral value of families who have lived quietly +at home (with due educational assistance) very far +transcends that of young people whose anxious +parents have dragged them about the world,—catching +at advantages here and advantages there, +unconscious of the sacrifice of the greatest advantage +of all,—a natural method of life, with the +quietude which belongs to it. I think that the +untravelled have a deeper reflectiveness than the +travelled,—a deeper sensibility,—a better working +power, on the whole,—a better preparation for +the life before them. They have more prejudice, +and, of course, less accomplishment than the travelled; +but life and years are pretty sure to abate +the prejudice; and a better timed travel may give +the accomplishment. If not, however,—if there +must be a choice of good and evil at the outset of +life, who would not rather see the fault of narrowness +than of shallowness? A mind which has<span class="pagenum">[Pg 315]</span> +depth must, in ordinary course, widen; while a +shallow mind, however wide, can never be worth +much. In the sensibility, the difference is as +marked as in the understanding: and no wonder; +for to the quiet dweller at home life is an awful +scroll, slowly and steadily unrolling to disclose its +characters of fire, which burn themselves in upon +the brain; while, to the young rover, life is but +too much like a show-box, whose scenes shift too +fast, and with too little interval, to make much +impression. I mention this here, chiefly for the +sake of parents who may feel occasional regrets +that they cannot give to their children what they +suppose to be the "advantages" of travel. My +conviction is that their children are happier than +they suppose. A moment's thought will show +them how few the rovers can be,—how overwhelming +must be the majority of those who must +stay at home: and we may always be confident +that the lot of the great majority, <i>duly improved</i>, +must be sufficient for all the purposes of human +life. Nothing that I have said is meant at all +in disapprobation of those occasional changes of +scene and society which all young people require +more or less. On the contrary, I would indicate, as +one of the advantages of a regular home life, that +it prepares the novice to profit the more by such +occasional changes. It is a magnificent event in +the life of a quiet, industrious family when a house-painting, +or other domestic necessity, authorises<span class="pagenum">[Pg 316]</span> +a visit to the sea-side, or a plunge into the country +for a couple of months. It serves as a prodigious +stimulus to the intellect; and the recollection +never loses its brilliancy, to the latest period of +life. It is worth more to novices than a whole +year of continental travelling to practised rovers. +The sunsets have sunk deep. The light-house, +the dip in the waves, the shingle, the distant +fleet—or the gorse on the common, the wood +paths, with their wild flowers, the breezy down, +the cottage in the lane,—call up a thrill in the +heart of the town-bred child whenever the images +are called up. Such changes are good; but they +are not roving in search of "advantages." Again, +when one child among several appears to pine in +any degree, becomes irritable or depressed, looks +pale, or ceases to grow, it is a sign that some +change is needed. If such a boy or girl should +be invited by some relation or friend on a visit of +any length, it is probable that all will come right. +The mind wants an airing, perhaps; and in a +fresh abode, among new objects, and kind friends, +and different companionship, and change of habits, +without any further excitement, brooding thoughts +are dispersed, domestic affections revive and +strengthen, the mind overflows with new ideas, and +after a time, home becomes intensely longed for; +and the young absentee returns home—to father's +greeting, and mother's side, and brothers and +sisters' companionship, with more rapture than the<span class="pagenum">[Pg 317]</span> +prospect of the journey ever caused. Such a +change as this is good; but it is not roving for +educational "advantages." It is an agreeable +tonic medicine; not a regimen of high diet.</p> + +<p>The case of the only child seems to ask a word +of kindness here. At the best, the case of the +only child is a somewhat mournful one,—somewhat +forlorn,—because it is unnatural. If it is unnatural +for a multitude of children of the same age to +herd together in an Infant school, it is at least as +much so for a little creature to live alone among +people with full-grown brains, and all occupied +with the pursuits and interests of mature life. It +is very well for the father to romp with his child +at spare times, and for the mother to love it with +her whole heart, and sympathise with it, with all +the sympathy that such love can inspire. This is +all well: but it does not make them children,—nor, +therefore, natural companions for a child. In +this case, above all others, it is desirable that the +child should be sent to school, when old enough: +and especially if the only one be a boy. A good +day school, where play is included, may do much +to obviate the disadvantages of the position. If +this cannot be done, it is really hardly to be hoped +that mischief will not be done on the one side or +the other,—of too much or too little attention and +sympathy. Some may wonder at the idea of the +only child being in danger of having too little +sympathy from its parents: but such cases are<span class="pagenum">[Pg 318]</span> +very conceivable and are occasionally witnessed. +If everybody sees how an only child,—the light +and charm of the house, the idol of the mother, +and the pet of everybody, must unavoidably become +of too much importance in its own eyes, and suffer +accordingly,—who should feel this so anxiously +and constantly as the conscientious parents of an +only child? and what is more probable than that, +in their anxiety not to spoil the mind they have +under their charge, they should carry the bracing +system somewhat too far, and depress the child by +giving it less fostering and sympathy than it +needs? They would not, for its own sake, have +it troublesome to their friends, or self-important, +or selfish; and they keep it back. But alas! if +put back, the little thing is driven into loneliness; +and children are not made for loneliness, in any +but a desert life. Give a child the desert to rove +in, with brown sheep to tend, and a young camel +to play with, and rocks and weeds, and springs +and stars and shrubby palms to live amongst, and +he may make a very pleasant life of it, all alone; +but not if he lives in a street, and must not go +out alone, and passes his life among square rooms +and stair-cases, and the measured movements of +grown-up people. An only child must be troublesome, +as long as he is a child. He craves play, +and sympathy, and constant companionship: and +he cannot do without them—he must not be +required to do without them. If he is not sent to<span class="pagenum">[Pg 319]</span> +school, grown people must be his companions and +playfellows,—the victims to his restlessness; and +he must be troublesome.—The case is nearly the +same,—only somewhat less desperate,—with a girl. +Her parents cannot, if they have eyes, hearts, or +consciences, see her pine. They must either provide +her with natural companionship, or they must let +themselves and their friends be appropriated by +her as companions, till she grows up into fitness +to be a companion to them.—It is not included in +this necessity that there should be selfishness of +temper and manners. The more fully and naturally +the needs of the social nature are met and +supplied, the less is the danger of this kind arising +from peculiarity of position.<span class="pagenum">[Pg 320]</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a id="Page_320" name="Page_320"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.<br /> +<br /> +CONCLUSION.</h2> + + +<p>Is there any other department of Household +Education than those on which I have touched? +No one can be more aware than I am of the +scantiness of what I have said, when compared +with the vastness of the range and of the importance +of the subject. I could only, as I declared +at the beginning, tell a little of what I have seen +and thought of the training of families in private +life: but, admitting the meagre character of the +whole, is there any one department left untouched? +I am not aware of any that could be treated of in +a volume for general reading.</p> + +<p>Some may, perhaps, ask for a chapter on Social +Habits: and an important subject it truly is. But +it appears to me to be included in that of Family +Habits and Manners. The same simplicity and +ingenuousness, the same respect and kindliness, +the same earnestness and cheerfulness, which +should pervade the conduct and manners in the +interior of the household are the best elements of +conduct and manners in the world. I see no +discretion and no grace which is needed in wider +social intercourses that is not required by those of<span class="pagenum">[Pg 321]</span> +home. To the parents there may be some anxiety +and uneasiness when their sons and daughters +make intimacies out of the house. The warm +friendships of youth may not perhaps be such as +the parents would have chosen. They may be +such as surprise and disappoint the parents. But +the very fact of the surprise and disappointment +should show them that there is something more +in the matter than they understand or should +seek to control. They cannot control the sympathies +of any one; and no one being can fully understand +the affinities which exist between others. +The points to be regarded are clear enough: and +when the best is done that can be done, the rest +may be left without anxiety.</p> + +<p>The main point is to preserve the full confidence +of the young people. If perfect openness and the +utmost practicable sympathy be maintained, all +must be safe. Young people must win their own +experience. They must find out character for +themselves: they must try their own ground in +social life; they must be self-convicted of the +prejudices and partialities which belong to their +immaturity; and, while their own moral rectitude +and their ingenuous confidence in their parents +subsist, they can take no permanent harm from +casual associations which may be far from wise. +The parents should remember too how very important +a part of the training of each individual is +of a kind which the parents have nothing to do<span class="pagenum">[Pg 322]</span> +with but to witness, and to have patience with, as +a piece of discipline to themselves.</p> + +<p>As has been observed before, there seems to be +a fine provision in human nature for rectifying +home tendencies which would otherwise be too +strong, and for supplying the imperfections of +home experience by the process which takes place,—the +revolution of moral tastes which ensues,—upon +the introduction of young people into a +wider circle than that of home. The parents have +naturally,—unavoidably,—laid the most stress in +the training of their children on those qualities +which are strongest in themselves, and slight, +more or less, such as they disregard, or are conscious +of not excelling in themselves. When the +young people go out into the world, they are +struck by the novel beauty of virtues in full exercise +which they have seen and heard but little of, +and fall in love with them, and with those who +possess them, and, with a fresh enthusiasm, cherish +them in themselves. Thus it is that we so often see +whole families of young people becoming characterised +by the virtues in which their parents are +most deficient; and also, as a consequence, by +the faults which are the natural attendants of +those virtues. I have seen a case of parents, indulgent +and faithful to their children, virulently +censorious to the rest of the world;—the children, +while wearing pinafores, disgusting from +their gleeful gossip, picked up from the elders,<span class="pagenum">[Pg 323]</span> +scorning and quizzing everybody's thoughts and +ways;—and those same children, when abroad in +the world as men and women, growing first grave,—then +just and fair,—then philosophical, and at +last indulgent, as the truly philosophical must +ever be. They preserved the keen insight into +character and the movements of mind in which +they had been trained at home, after first recognising, +and then opening their hearts to the +beauty of charity. I have seen the children of +imprudent, lavish, and embarrassed parents turn +out eminently correct in their management of +money matters:—the children of an untidy mother +turn out perfectly methodical;—the children of a +too social father, remarkably retired and domestic; +and so on. Very often the new and late virtue +becomes too prominent, excluding the hereditary +opposite qualities; and in that case, when these +young people become parents, the same process +takes place, and their children strongly resemble +their grandparents. It is a curious spectacle,—that +of such a moral oscillation;—and it is so common +that every one may observe it. One of the pieces +of instruction that it yields is to parents;—that +they must now let Nature work, and take off their +hands from meddling. They may themselves learn +something if they will, in silence and sympathy, +from the spectacle of the expansion of their +children; and they may take the lesson into a +light and easy heart if they have hitherto done their<span class="pagenum">[Pg 324]</span> +duty as well as they know how. There is nothing +in what they see to hurt any but an improper +pride: and they may make sure of an increased +reverence and love from their children if they +have the magnanimity to go hand in hand with +them into new fields of moral exercise and enterprise, +and to admit the beauty and desirableness of +what they see.</p> + +<p>Here we have arrived at the ultimate stage of +Household Education,—that where the entire +household advances together, in equal companionship, +towards the great object of human existence, +the perfecting of each individual in it. We set +out with the view that the education of a household +comprehended the training and discipline of +all its members; and here we find ourselves at the +same point again, amidst a great difference in the +circumstances. They are no longer all under the +same roof. One may be in the distant town; +another in a far country; a third in the next +street, but seen only on Sundays: but still they +are one Household company, living in full confidence +and sympathy, though their eyes may seldom +meet, and a clasp of the hand may be a rare +luxury. The mother who once received discipline +from her child when he was a wailing infant, +keeping her from her rest at midnight, receives +another discipline from him now when she sees +him in earnest pursuit of some high and holy aim +whose nobleness had become somewhat clouded<span class="pagenum">[Pg 325]</span> +to her through the cares of the world, and her +very solicitude for him. The father who had suffered +perhaps too keenly from some gross faults +of his thoughtless boys in their season of turbulence, +receives from them now a new discipline—a +rebuke full of sweetness,—in the proof they +offer that he had distrusted Nature,—had failed +in faith that she would do her work well, if only +the way was duly kept open for her. There is a +new discipline for them in the gradual contraction +of the family circle, in the deepening quietness of +the house, and in the loss of the little hourly services +which the elderly people now think they +hardly valued enough while they had them every +hour. We can never say that any part of the +discipline of life is over for any one of us; and +that of domestic life is certainly not over for +affectionate parents whose children are called +away from their side, however unquestionable the +call may be.</p> + +<p>As for the younger generation of the household,—their +education by their parents never ceases +while the parents live: and the less assertion the +parents make of this, the deeper are the lessons +they impress. The deepest impressions received +in life are supposed to be those imparted to the +sensitive and tenacious mind of childhood: but +the mature reverence and affection of a manly +mind are excited more efficaciously than the emotions +of childhood can ever be when the active<span class="pagenum">[Pg 326]</span> +men and women who were once the children of a +household see their grey-haired parents in the +midst of them looking up to Nature, and reaching +after Truth and Right with the humble trust and +earnest docility which spread the sweetest charm +of youth over the countenance of age. However +many and however rich are the lessons they have +learned from their parents, assuredly, in such a +case, the richest is the last.</p> + +<p class="title">THE END</p> + +<p class="center gap4"> +LONDON:<br /> +BRADBURY AND EVANS PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 327]</span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="smcap">September 1, 1848.</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<p class="title"><big>A LIST OF BOOKS</big><br /> + +RECENTLY PUBLISHED BY<br /> +<br /> +EDWARD MOXON, 44, DOVER STREET.</p> + + +<p class="title">MISCELLANEOUS.</p> + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>HAYDN'S DICTIONARY OF DATES, and +UNIVERSAL REFERENCE</big>, relating to all Ages and Nations; +comprehending every Remarkable Occurrence, Ancient and +Modern—the Foundation, Laws, and Governments of Countries—their +Progress in Civilisation, Industry, and Science—their +Achievements in Arms; the Political and Social Transactions +of the British Empire—its Civil, Military, and Religious Institutions—the +Origin and Advance of Human Arts and Inventions, +with copious details of England, Scotland, and Ireland. The +whole comprehending a body of information, Classical, Political, +and Domestic, from the earliest accounts to the present time. +<span class="smcap">Fourth Edition</span>. In one volume 8vo, price 18<i>s.</i> cloth.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>SHARPE'S HISTORY OF EGYPT</big>, from the +Earliest Times till the Conquest by the Arabs in <span class="smcap">a.d.</span> 640. +<span class="smcap">Second Edition</span>. In one volume 8vo, price 16<i>s.</i> cloth.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>NAPIER'S (Capt. Henry) FLORENTINE HISTORY</big>, +from the Earliest Authentic Records to the Accession of +Ferdinand the Third, Grand Duke of Tuscany. In 6 volumes, +small 8vo, price 2<i>l.</i> 14<i>s.</i> cloth.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">IV.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>THE WORKS OF WALTER SAVAGE +LANDOR</big>. 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In one +volume, 8vo, with Vignette, price 14<i>s.</i> cloth.</p> + +<p class="center">CONTENTS:—</p> + +<p class="center"> +1. <span class="smcap">Literary Miscellanies.</span><br /> +<br /> +2. <span class="smcap">Quarrels of Authors.</span><br /> +<br /> +3. <span class="smcap">Calamities of Authors.</span><br /> +<br /> +4. <span class="smcap">The Literary Character.</span><br /> +<br /> +5. <span class="smcap">Character of James the First.</span><br /> +</p></blockquote> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<p class="center"><b>SHELLEY'S WORKS.</b></p> + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>SHELLEY'S POEMS, ESSAYS, AND LETTERS +FROM ABROAD</big>. Edited by <span class="smcap">Mrs. Shelley</span>. In one volume +8vo, with Portrait and Vignette, price 15<i>s.</i> cloth.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>SHELLEY'S POETICAL WORKS</big>. Edited by +<span class="smcap">Mrs. Shelley</span>. In 3 volumes, foolscap 8vo, price 15<i>s.</i> cloth.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>SHELLEY'S ESSAYS and LETTERS FROM +ABROAD</big>. Edited by <span class="smcap">Mrs. Shelley</span>. Price 5<i>s.</i></p></blockquote> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<p class="center"><b>DRAMATIC LIBRARY.</b></p> + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER</big>. With an +INTRODUCTION. By <span class="smcap">George Darley</span>. In two volumes, 8vo, +with Portraits and Vignettes, price 32<i>s.</i> cloth.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>SHAKSPEARE. With REMARKS on his LIFE +and WRITINGS</big>. By <span class="smcap">Thomas Campbell</span>. In one volume, 8vo, +with Portrait, Vignette, and Index, price 16<i>s.</i> cloth.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>BEN JONSON. With a MEMOIR</big>. By <span class="smcap">William +Gifford</span>. In one volume, 8vo, with Portrait and Vignette, +price 16<i>s.</i> cloth.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">IV.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>MASSINGER and FORD. With an INTRODUCTION</big>. +By <span class="smcap">Hartley Coleridge</span>. In one volume, 8vo, with +Portrait and Vignette, price 16<i>s.</i> cloth.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">V.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>WYCHERLEY, CONGREVE, VANBRUGH, +AND FARQUHAR. With BIOGRAPHICAL and CRITICAL +NOTICES</big>. By <span class="smcap">Leigh Hunt</span>. In one volume, 8vo, with Portrait +and Vignette, price 16<i>s.</i> cloth.</p></blockquote> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<p class="center"><b>DYCE'S BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.</b></p> + +<blockquote><p><big>THE WORKS OF BEAUMONT AND +FLETCHER</big>; the Text formed from a new collation of the +early Editions. With Notes and a Biographical Memoir. By +the Rev. <span class="smcap">A. Dyce.</span> In eleven volumes, 8vo. Price 6<i>l.</i> 12<i>s.</i> cloth.</p></blockquote> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<p class="center"><b>ROGERS'S POEMS.</b></p> + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>ROGERS'S POEMS</big>. In one volume, illustrated +by 72 Vignettes, from designs by Turner and Stothard, price 16<i>s.</i> +boards, or 30<i>s.</i> elegantly bound in morocco.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>ROGERS'S ITALY</big>. In one volume, illustrated +by 56 Vignettes, from designs by Turner and Stothard, price 16<i>s.</i> +boards, or 30<i>s.</i> elegantly bound in morocco.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>ROGERS'S POEMS; and ITALY.</big> In two +pocket volumes, illustrated by numerous Woodcuts, price 10<i>s.</i> +cloth, or 28<i>s.</i> elegantly bound in morocco.</p></blockquote> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<p class="center"><b>WORDSWORTH'S POEMS.</b></p> + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>WORDSWORTH'S POETICAL WORKS</big>. In +seven volumes, foolscap 8vo, price 35<i>s.</i> cloth.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>WORDSWORTH'S POETICAL WORKS</big>. In +one volume, medium 8vo, price 20<i>s.</i> cloth, or 36<i>s.</i> elegantly +bound in morocco.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>WORDSWORTH'S EXCURSION</big>. <span class="smcap">A Poem.</span> +In one volume, price 6<i>s.</i> cloth.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">IV.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>SELECT PIECES FROM THE POEMS OF +WILLIAM WORDSWORTH</big>. In one volume, illustrated by +Woodcuts, price 6<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> cloth, gilt edges.</p></blockquote> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<p class="center"><b>CAMPBELL'S POEMS.</b></p> + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>CAMPBELL'S POETICAL WORKS</big>. <span class="smcap">A New +Edition.</span> In one volume, illustrated by 20 Vignettes from +designs by Turner, and 37 Woodcuts from designs by <span class="smcap">Harvey</span>. +Price 20<i>s.</i> boards, or 34<i>s.</i> elegantly bound in morocco.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>CAMPBELL'S POETICAL WORKS</big>. In one +pocket volume, illustrated by numerous Woodcuts, price 8<i>s.</i> +cloth, or 16<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> elegantly bound in morocco.</p></blockquote> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<p class="center"><b>CHAUCER AND SPENSER.</b></p> + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>CHAUCER'S POETICAL WORKS</big>. With an +<span class="smcap">Essay</span> on his <span class="smcap">Language and Versification</span>, and an <span class="smcap">Introductory +Discourse</span>; together with <span class="smcap">Notes</span> and a <span class="smcap">Glossary</span>. By +<span class="smcap">Thomas Tyrwhitt</span>. In one volume, 8vo, with Portrait and +Vignette, price 16<i>s.</i> cloth.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>SPENSER'S WORKS</big>. With a Selection of +<span class="smcap">Notes</span> from various Commentators; and a <span class="smcap">Glossarial Index</span>: +to which is prefixed some account of the <span class="smcap">Life</span> of Spenser. By +the Rev. <span class="smcap">Henry John Todd</span>. In one volume, 8vo, with Portrait +and Vignette, price 16<i>s.</i> cloth.</p></blockquote> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<p class="center"><b>CHARLES LAMB'S WORKS.</b></p> + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>LAMB'S WORKS</big>. <span class="smcap">A New Edition.</span> In one +volume, 8vo, with Portrait and Vignette, price 14<i>s.</i> cloth.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>FINAL MEMORIALS OF CHARLES LAMB</big>; +consisting chiefly of his <span class="smcap">Letters not before published</span>, with +<span class="smcap">Sketches of some of his Companions</span>. By <span class="smcap">T. N. Talfourd</span>, +one of his Executors. In two volumes, post 8vo, price 18<i>s.</i> cloth.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<blockquote><p><big>THE ESSAYS OF ELIA</big>. <span class="smcap">A New Edition.</span> +Price 5<i>s.</i></p></blockquote> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<p class="center"><b>POETRY.</b></p> + +<blockquote><p>TENNYSON'S POEMS. Price 9<i>s.</i> cloth.</p> + +<p>—————— PRINCESS. Price 5<i>s.</i> cloth.</p> + +<p>MILNES'S POEMS. 4 vols. Price 20<i>s.</i> cloth.</p> + +<p>TRENCH'S JUSTIN MARTYR, and other Poems. 6<i>s.</i> bds.</p> + +<p>————— POEMS <span class="smcap">from Eastern Sources</span>. Price 6<i>s.</i> bds.</p> + +<p>BROWNING'S SORDELLO. Price 6<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> boards.</p> + +<p>BARRETT'S (MISS) POEMS. 2 vols. Price 12<i>s.</i> bds.</p> + +<p>HOOD'S POEMS. 2 vols. Price 12<i>s.</i> cloth.</p> + +<p>———— POEMS OF WIT AND HUMOUR. 6<i>s.</i> cloth.</p> + +<p>TAYLOR'S EVE OF THE CONQUEST. Price 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>LANDOR'S HELLENICS. Price 6<i>s.</i> cloth.<br /></p> + + +<p class="center">(In 24mo.)</p> + +<p>ROGERS'S POETICAL WORKS. Price 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>TALFOURD'S TRAGEDIES. Price 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>TAYLOR'S PHILIP VAN ARTEVELDE. Price 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>————— EDWIN THE FAIR, &c. Price 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>BARRY CORNWALL'S SONGS. Price 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>LEIGH HUNT'S POETICAL WORKS. Price 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>KEATS'S POETICAL WORKS. Price 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>SHELLEY'S MINOR POEMS. Price 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>PERCY'S RELIQUES. 3 vols. Price 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>LAMB'S DRAMATIC SPECIMENS. 2 vols. Price 5<i>s.</i></p> + +<p>DODD'S BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. Price 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p></blockquote> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<p class="center"><b>CHEAP EDITIONS OF POPULAR WORKS.</b></p> + +<blockquote><p>SHELLEY'S ESSAYS AND LETTERS. Price 5<i>s.</i></p> + +<p>SEDGWICK'S LETTERS FROM ABROAD. Price 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>DANA'S TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>CLEVELAND'S VOYAGES AND COMMERCIAL ENTERPRISES. +Price 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>ELLIS'S EMBASSY TO CHINA. Price 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>PRINGLE'S RESIDENCE IN SOUTH AFRICA. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>THE ESSAYS OF ELIA. Price 5<i>s.</i></p> + +<p>HUNT'S INDICATOR, AND COMPANION. Price 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>———— THE SEER; OR, COMMON-PLACES REFRESHED. +Price 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>SHERIDAN'S DRAMATIC WORKS. With an INTRODUCTION. +By LEIGH HUNT. Price 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>LAMB'S LIFE AND LETTERS. Price 5<i>s.</i></p> + +<p>———— ROSAMUND GRAY, &c. Price 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>———— TALES FROM SHAKSPEARE. Price 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>———— ADVENTURES OF ULYSSES. <span class="smcap">To which is +added</span>, MRS. LEICESTER'S SCHOOL. Price 2<i>s.</i></p> + +<p>HALL'S VOYAGE TO LOO-CHOO. Price 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>———— TRAVELS IN SOUTH AMERICA. Price 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p></blockquote> + + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<blockquote><p>LAMB'S POETICAL WORKS. Price 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>BAILLIE'S (JOANNA) FUGITIVE VERSES. Price 1<i>s.</i></p> + +<p>SHAKSPEARE'S POEMS. Price 1<i>s.</i></p></blockquote> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<p class="center">Bradbury & Evans, Printers, Whitefriars.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p class="title"> +JUST PUBLISHED.<br /></p> + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>In Three Volumes. Price 31s. 6d. cloth.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><big>EASTERN LIFE, PRESENT AND PAST.</big> +<br /> +BY HARRIET MARTINEAU.<br /> +</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Excellent as a book of Travels, it is equally excellent as an adjunct to +history. Miss Martineau unites the observant with the learned traveller—sees +for herself, even after Eôthen; and has put spirit into the dry bones of +Champollion, Wilkinson, and Lane."—<i>Edinburgh Review.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p class="center"> +II.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Price 5s. cloth.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><big>LIFE IN THE SICK-ROOM: ESSAYS.</big> +<br /> +BY AN INVALID.<br /> +</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The character of the book is of the loftiest kind. The reader will not +often find more variety of topic in the same space, more purity of sentiment, +more elevation of thought, than in this little volume. The book should be +purchased by all who are sick for its congeniality with their state, and by +all who are well, that when they become otherwise the remembrance of it +may cheer them in their altered condition."—<i>Athenæum.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p class="center"> +EDWARD MOXON, DOVER STREET.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>TRANSCRIBER NOTES</p> + +<blockquote><p>Punctuation has been normalized.</p> + +<p>Archaic spellings have been retained. Inconsistent spellings have been changed without note.</p> + +<p>Page 280: "that" changed to "than" (than at noon or in the evening).</p></blockquote> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Household Education, by Harriet Martineau + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION *** + +***** This file should be named 38179-h.htm or 38179-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/1/7/38179/ + +Produced by Julia Miller, Pat McCoy and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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