Part 3

There are two circumstances which spoil every thing; namely, teaching them at first to read in a foreign tongue[3]--which takes away all pleasure in reading; and making them read with a forced and ridiculous emphasis. Give them a book handsomely bound, with neat cuts, and printed with a fine type; every thing which delights the fancy, facilitates study: we should even let them have a book full of short and marvellous stories. After this, do not be uneasy about the child's learning to read--do not fatigue her by requiring too great a precision; let her pronounce naturally as she speaks: other tones are always bad, and partake of the declamation of the stage. When the tongue has acquired sufficient volubility, the chest strength, and the habit of reading been confirmed, she will then read without pain, and with more grace and distinctness.

[3] Fenelon says the _Latin_ tongue: but this is not practised in England.

The manner of teaching to write should be pretty nearly the same. When children can read a little, one may amuse them in making them sort the letters; and if there are several pupils, emulation may be kindled. Children are naturally inclined to make figures on paper; and if this propensity be encouraged, without teasing them too much, they will form letters during their play, and accustom themselves by degrees to write. One may also encourage them by the promise of a reward adapted to their taste, and which has no unpleasant consequences.

"Write me a note," you may say, "inform your brother or cousin of such and such things:" all this (varied as you like) pleases a child, provided that no sad idea of a formal lesson intrude. "A free curiosity," says St. Austin, from his own experience, "excites the mental faculties of a child, much more than the formality of rules, or a constraint imposed by fear."

Observe this grand defect in ordinary educations--all pleasure is placed on one side, and pain on the other: the latter is attached to study, the former to play. What then can be expected from a child, but that, in supporting one of these maxims, she will eagerly fly to her amusements?

Let us try to invert this order: let us make study agreeable, concealing it under the form of liberty and pleasure: the dull routine of continued application may be sometimes broken in upon by little sallies of amusement. Children require these relaxations to preserve the elasticity of their mind.

Let their imaginations roam a little. Permit occasionally some game or diversion, so that ample bounds be given to their spirits; then bring them gently back again to the principal object you have in view. Too rigid or too long continued an application to study, is productive of much injury: those who affect this regularity, act more from the convenience of stated hours of discipline, than from wishing to seize every favourable moment of instruction. At the same time, do not suffer any amusement which may agitate the passions of children: on the contrary, every thing which can unbend their faculties, produce an agreeable variety, satisfy a curiosity for useful things, and exercise their body in healthful recreations, should be recommended and practiced in their diversions. The amusements which they like best, are those that keep the body in motion; they are happy if they can but skip from place to place: a shuttle-cock or a ball is sufficient. We should not, however, be uneasy about their diversions; they invent quite enough themselves--it is sufficient if we leave them to their own inventions, watch them with a cheerful countenance, and moderate them when they become too violent. It would be prudent just to make them sensible, as much and as often as we can, of the pleasure which results from the cultivation of the _mind_; such as conversation, news, histories, and many industrious games which include instruction. All this will have its proper effect in due time: but we should not force the feelings of children on this subject; we should only make overtures to them. The period will arrive when their bodies will be inclined to move less, and their minds, more.

The care which is taken to season study with amusement, will operate favourably in abating the ardour of youth for dangerous diversions. It is subjection and _ennui_ that beget an impatience for amusement. If a daughter felt less restraint in the presence of a mother, she would not be so anxious to steal away in search of indifferent society.

In choosing diversions, care must be taken to avoid all suspicious companions. Boys must not mingle with girls; even girls of an unruly and froward disposition must be rejected. Games which excite passion, and thoughtlessness, or which produce an improper attitude of the body--frequent visiting abroad, and conversations which give rise to such visits--should be uniformly avoided. When a child is not spoilt by any rude diversion, or is not stimulated by any ardent passion, it will easily find pleasure and content: health and innocence are the sure sources of both: but those who have been accustomed to violent amusements, lose all relish for moderate pleasure, and weary themselves in a restless search after happiness.

There may be a satiated taste for amusements, as well as for food: one may be so accustomed to high-seasoned dishes, that a simple and common diet will become flat and insipid. Let us, therefore, be on our guard against those violent exercises, which in the end produce _ennui_ and disgust: above all, they are to be particularly dreaded in regard to _children_; who are less capable in suppressing their feelings, and who wish to be in perpetual motion. Let us manage them so as to excite a taste for simple things: that great preparations of food be not necessary for their nourishment, nor violent diversions for their amusement. A moderate fare always creates a sufficient appetite, without being obliged to pamper it with _made dishes_, which produce intemperance. "Temperance," says an ancient writer, "is the best contriver of luxury: with this temperance, which begets health of body and mind, one always enjoys a soft and tranquil emotion--there is no need of trick or public shew, or expense, to make one happy: some little diversion, or reading, or labor--a walk, or innocent conversation, which relaxes after toil--all or any of these produce a purer delight than is felt from the most exquisite music."

It is true, simple pleasures are less lively and interesting than violent ones, which elevate the soul, and affect all the sources of passion. But simple pleasures have a better tendency; they produce an equal and lasting joy, without any bitter consequence. They are always of real service, whereas violent ones may be compared to adulterated wine, which pleases at first, but which eventually injures the health. The very temperament of the soul, as well as the taste, is affected by seeking after such violent and seductive pleasures. All that you can do for children who are under your regulation is, to accustom them to such a simple life as has been just described; to fortify them in such habits as long as you can, to make them foresee the evil consequences attached to other amusements, and not to abandon them to _themselves_; as is too commonly the case, at an age when their passions begin to be shewn, and when, consequently, they stand in need of greater restraint.

It must be allowed, that of all the vexations incidental to education, none can be compared with that which is experienced in the rearing of a _stupid_ child. Those who have strong lively natural capacities are, indeed, liable to terrible irregularities--passion and presumption master them entirely; but, on the other hand, they have great resources, and may be easily checked, however turbulent. Education is, in them, a concealed but vegetating germe, which sometimes bears fruit when experience comes to the aid of reason, and when the passions begin to cool. At least we know how to make them attentive, and awaken their curiosity: they have something in them which makes them take an interest in their lessons, and stimulates their sense of honour--whereas one has no sort of pleasure or gratification in the instruction of _stupid_ children. All their thoughts are distracted: they are never where they ought to be: the most poignant correction has no effect on them: they hear every thing, and feel nothing. This indolence and stupidity makes a child negligent and disgusted with every thing she does. She is in such a case, that the _best mode_ of education runs a risk of miscarrying, if we do not guard against the evil, from earliest infancy. Many people who have little depth of penetration, conclude, from this bad success, that nature does _every thing_ in the formation of men of merit, and education _nothing_--instead of remarking that there are dispositions, like barren soils, on which cultivation produces little. It is yet more lamentable when these knotty systems of education have been thwarted or neglected, or badly regulated at the beginning.

We must not forget that there are many dispositions among children, in which we are likely to be deceived. They appear at first interesting, because there is attached to early youth a certain fascinating lustre which covers every thing: we, at first, perceive nothing but what is tender and amiable, and this prevents a closer examination of the features of the mind. Every sally of their wit surprises us, because we do not expect it at such an age: every error in judgment is permitted, and it has, moreover, the charm of ingenuity: they assume a certain vivacity of deportment, which never fails to pass for sprightliness and intellect. Hence it is, that childhood often promises much, but realises little. Such a one was celebrated for her wit at five years of age, but now, in proportion to her growth, she has fallen into obscurity and contempt! Of all the qualities which children possess, there is but one on which you can calculate with certainty, and that is, _good sense_: this "grows with their growth," provided it be well cultivated. The graces of infancy fade away--its vivacity diminishes--and that tenderness of heart even becomes blunted, in proportion as the passions and an intercourse with designing men harden young people on their entrance into the world. Strive, therefore, to discover midst the graces of childhood, whether the disposition you have to manage be deficient in curiosity, and insensible of honest emulation. If this should be the case, it is almost impossible for every one concerned in her tuition, not to be disgusted with so rugged and ungrateful an occupation. Every qualification of a child should be roused and brought into action, in order to extricate it from so fatal a lethargy. If, however, you foresee any such consequences about to follow, do not at first be anxious to urge any serious application: take care not to overcharge her memory, for it is that which stuns and stupifies the brain: do not harass her with unpleasant regulations: make her as cheerful as you can, because she labours under the opposite extreme of presumption: do not be afraid of shewing her, with discretion, the extent of her powers: be satisfied with little at a time: make her remark the smallest success: shew her how absurd it is to be afraid of not succeeding in that which she really does well: set her emulation to work. Jealousy is more violent among children than we are aware of: we often see some who are absolutely fretting and wearing away, because others are more beloved and caressed than themselves. Mothers are often cruel enough to fan this jealous flame, which, however, is of service in extreme cases of indolence and stupidity--but then you should set before the child the examples of those who are but _very little_ superior--for disproportionate examples of those who are greatly superior, serve only to discourage and dismay.

Let her, occasionally, gain some little victories over those of whom she is jealous: make her, if you can, laugh heartily with yourself at her timidity: and set before her those, equally timid with herself, who have conquered their disposition to fear: make her sensible, by indirect instructions, and the example of others, that timidity and idleness destroy all the mental energies; but be careful not to give these instructions in an austere and impetuous manner: nothing wounds the inmost feelings of a mild and timid child so much as boisterous treatment: on the contrary, let the application which becomes indispensible, be seasoned and relieved by such little circumstances of amusement and recreation as are suited to her disposition. Perhaps it will be sometimes necessary to check her by reproaches; but this should not be done by yourself: employ some inferior person, or another child, without appearing yourself to be acquainted with it.

St. Austin relates, that his mother was once reproached by a servant for drinking pure wine; an ill habit which she had contracted from her infancy, and of which she was cured by the servant's reproach, though all the vehemence and severity of her governess was unable to effect it. In short one should endeavour to excite _a taste_ in the minds of such sort of children, in like manner as one tries to excite it in the palate of those who are sick. _They_ are permitted to have any thing which may cure their loathing; they are indulged in many whims at the expence of certain prescribed rules, provided it be not carried to a dangerous excess. It is much more arduous to create a taste in those that are void of one, than to regulate the taste of those who have not a correct one.

There is another kind of sensibility extremely difficult and important to impress them with, and that is, _friendship_. As soon as a child is susceptible of it, there can be no doubt but that you should turn her heart towards those who may be useful to her. Friendship will give her every accomplishment that you desire; you have then a certain tie on her, if you know how to regulate it: excess, or a bad choice, are the only things you have to dread. There are, however, some children who are born cunning, reserved, and callous, and who bring every thing home, as it were, to their own bosoms: they deceive their parents, whom fondness has made credulous: they _appear_ to love them: they regulate their inclinations to conform to them: they _seem_ more docile than other children of the same age, who indulge, without restraint, in all their humours and follies: their suppleness, or rather hypocrisy, which conceals a savage temper, assumes a softness of character; and their real disposition does not discover itself till it is too late to reform it.

If there really be any child on whom education is incapable of producing a good effect, it is one of the foregoing description; and it must be allowed that the number is greater than we imagine. Parents bring themselves with difficulty to believe that their children have a bad heart: when they shut their _own eyes_ upon them, no other person will have the courage to convince them of it; and thus the evil is hourly augmenting. The principal remedy is, to place children, from their earliest infancy, in such a situation where their tempers may be discovered without disguise. Always know the very bottom of their heart, before you correct them. They are naturally simple and open; but as soon as you plague them, or give them an example of disguise, they will no longer return to their original simplicity. It is true, that a good and tender-hearted disposition comes from God alone; _we_ can only endeavour to excite it by generous examples, by maxims of honour and disinterestedness, and by a contempt of those people who set too high a value on themselves. We must endeavour to make children betimes sensible of the most natural modes of conduct, and of the pleasure arising from a cordial, and reciprocal friendship. Nothing so much conduces to this end, as an intercourse with people who have nothing about them harsh, severe, low, or selfish: children might better associate with those who have other faults, than with those who possess the foregoing ones. We should praise them for every thing they do on the score of friendship, provided it be not misplaced or too violent. Parents must likewise appear to them to be animated with the sincerest friendship towards them; for children oftentimes learn of their parents to have no affection for any one object. In short I would check, before friends, all superfluous compliments, all artificial demonstrations of esteem, and all feigned caresses: for by these things you teach them a great deal of deceit towards those whom they ought to regard.

There is a very common fault among girls, the opposite to what we have been mentioning; namely, the affecting to be uncommonly struck and delighted with the most insignificant things. They cannot see two people who are both equally bad, without taking the part, in their hearts, of one against the other. They are full either of affection or aversion, without the least cause: they perceive no defect in what they esteem, and no one good quality in what they despise. You must not, at first, make a formidable opposition to all this--for contradiction will only fortify them in their vagaries: but observe, by degrees, to a young girl, that you know better than herself what good there is in that which she likes, and what evil in that which she detests. Take care also, occasionally, to make her sensible of certain defects which are sometimes found in the object of her regard, and of certain good qualities which are discernible in that of her hatred: do not be too urgent: press her not too much, and you will find that she will come to herself, and coincide with your sentiments. After which, make her reflect on her past caprices, and the most unreasonable circumstances attending them: tell her, gently, that she will by and bye see those of which she is not yet cured, when they cease to act. Recount to her similar errors of _your own_ when you was of her age. Above all, shew her as clearly, and as sensibly as you can, that good and evil are inherent in every object of our love and aversion: this will repress her ardour in the indulgence of either the one or the other.

Never promise children, by way of reward, fine clothes or dainties; this has two direct evils attending it: the first will teach them to set a value on what they ought to despise; the second deprives you of an opportunity of establishing _other_ rewards which would facilitate your labour. Be on your guard against threatening them to make them study, or subjecting them to any formal rule. Make as few rules as possible: and when there is an absolute necessity for one, make it pass lightly under the child's notice, without giving it such a name; and always give some reason why a thing is done at one time and in one place, rather than in another. You run a risk of disheartening children if they are not praised when they have done well. Praise may sometimes be apprehended on account of its exciting vanity; but it should nevertheless be employed to animate, not to intoxicate, children.

We find that St. Paul has often made use of it, in encouraging the weak, and in softening his reproaches. The Fathers have also made the same use of it. It is true, that to make it serviceable, it must be so tempered that it take away all exaggeration, and flattery, and that the good resulting from it be attributed to God alone, as the source. Children may be recompensed by innocent and industrious games; by walks and recreations, in which conversation may take a useful turn: by little presents which may be a kind of prize--as pictures, prints, medals, maps of geography, or gilt books.

CHAP. VI.

_Of the Use of History for Children._

Children are passionately fond of marvellous tales: one sees them every day transported with joy, or drowned in tears, at the recital of certain adventures. Do not fail to profit by this propensity. When you find them disposed to listen to you, relate to them some short and pretty fable: but choose some ingenious and harmless one respecting animals: repeat them just as they are composed, and shew them the moral resulting therefrom. As to _pagan fables_, a girl will be happy in her total ignorance of them, as they are extremely indelicate and replete with impious absurdities. If, however, you are not able to keep a child ignorant of them, impress her with a sense of their horror. When you have repeated one fable, wait till you are asked to begin another--thus leaving the child hungry, as it were, for more mental food. When curiosity is at last excited, recount certain choice histories, but in as few words as possible: connect them together, and postpone the sequel from one day to another, so that you keep the children in suspense, and impatient to know the termination. Be animated and familiar in your manner of repeating--make the personages speak--and children, who have a lively imagination, will fancy they hear and see them. For instance, relate the history of Joseph--make his brothers speak like brutal characters, but Jacob like a tender and afflicted father--then let Joseph himself speak--taking pleasure, as being at the head of an Egyptian establishment, in concealing himself from his brothers--in making them afraid of him; and, at last, in discovering himself to them. This natural representation, joined to the extraordinary circumstances of the history, will delight a child; provided she be not teased with too many similar recitals. You may let her express a desire for such stories, and promise them as a recompense for a prudent conduct, provided they assume not the form of study--provided the child is not _obliged_ to repeat them; for these repetitions, if not voluntarily undertaken, will discompose and fret her, and take away all pleasure arising from such sort of narrations.

It must be observed that if a child has any facility in speaking, she will, of her own accord, relate to those whom she likes, such histories as have pleased her most: but do not let her make a rule of it. You may employ some one, who is on a footing of perfect intimacy with the child, to appear anxious to learn of her a particular story: the child will be delighted in repeating it. Do not appear yourself to listen very earnestly to it--let her go on as she likes, without checking her in her faults. The consequence will be, that when she is more accustomed to repeat, you may gently make her sensible of a better manner of narrating, by rendering it short, simple, and easy; and by a choice of circumstances better calculated to represent forcibly the nature of each thing. If you have many children, accustom them by degrees to _represent_ the historical characters whom they read of--one may be Abraham, the other, Isaac. These representations will charm them more than any other games--will accustom them to think, and to utter serious things with pleasure--and will indelibly fix such histories on their memory.