CHAPTER XIX.

THE MOTHER THE TEACHER.

Mother’s Sphere in the Home.—Mother as Maker of Sunshine.—Food, Clothing and Restraint not the Mother’s Full Duty to Her Children.—Teach Them Self-knowledge.—Mother Should Give Honest Answers to Honest Inquiries.—Ignorance Leads to Vice, and Vice to Ruin.—When Shall Children be Taught Physical Truths.—How to Teach Little Children Physical Truth.—Questions of Sex Should be the Most Sacred Things of Their Knowledge.—How to Teach the Children in This Sacred Way.—The Preparation for the Lesson.—Mothers Should Teach Their Boys as Well as the Girls.—How Boys Grow Away from Their Mothers.—How Mothers May Win and Hold Their Boys.—An Honest Mother’s Reward.—A Mother’s Power Over Her Children.

“The best teacher is a wise mother. She will thoroughly equip the child for the journey of life; she will place him on the right road, and she will fill his mind with such ideas of truth and justice as will enable him to withstand the temptations of the world, the flesh, and the devil. Thrice happy is the child who possesses such a mother. He may have other teachers in school and college, but none whose influence is so far-reaching and lasting as hers.”—THOMAS HUNTER.

“As is the mother so is her daughter.”

“An ounce of mother is worth a pound of clergy.”

A traveller and a native met upon the streets of Tokio, Japan. In the course of their conversation upon this wonderful land of the “Rising Sun,” the native exclaimed: “But have you seen It?”

“It,” repeated the traveller, “what do you mean by It?”

“Ah: you would not ask had you seen It.”

They met again a few weeks later, after the American had beheld the glories of the wonderful, indescribable “It” of Japan,—the Holy Mountain, the marvelous Fujiyama, which rises thousands of feet above the level plain, snow-capped, reflecting the rays of the sun in a thousand varied shades, alone, majestic, incomparable, in its grandeur and beauty.

Little wonder that the admiring natives call it the “It” of Japan. It might as truly, among its kind, be called the It of the world.

There were few words exchanged, but the native was satisfied. The It was understood and appreciated by the traveller.

Months after the Japanese visited America, and from the Pacific to the Atlantic was eagerly searching for anything that would compare in natural beauty, with this marvelous Holy Mountain of his own land. The Yosemite, the majestic Rockies, the National Park, Niagara, all were visited, but nowhere could he find the one thing worthy the name.

As he became known, the homes of America were thrown open to him. At last he awoke one day and exclaimed in his delight, “I have found it, the It of America, and it is greater than that of my beloved land. The It of America is her homes.”

To this beautiful figure I would add but one word. The It of the home is the mother. Shall I prove it from the lips of a child?

Willie, aged five, bounded into the house one day, exclaiming as he hung his hat in the hall, “This is my home.” A lady visitor said, “The house next door is just like this, Willie, suppose you go over there and hang your hat in the hall, that would be your home as much as this, wouldn’t it?”

“No ma’am,” said the little fellow. “Why not?” asked the lady. “’Cause my mother does not live there,” was the triumphant reply.

Truly the mother is the home, and as well, although unconscious of it, she is the barometer of the home. “Mamma, what makes it look so dark, is it going to storm?” said my little one. “Why, darling, it isn’t dark,” I answered; “the sun shines beautifully.” He ran to the window and came back exclaiming, “Why so it does, mamma, but it seems so dark here. May I go out in the sunshine?”

And then I was startled with the knowledge that the little one was under the shadow of my face, for gloomy thoughts had held me all the morning, and I had given myself to their companionship. “Yes, my darling,” I said, “you may go out and mamma will go with you.”

When we came back laughing and cheery, my baby added unconsciously another rebuke, “How lovely the house is now, mamma, and how it makes you smile.”

Is it not lamentably true that the many mothers consider their work done when they have fed and clothed their children, and restrained them from the glaring evils of the day; and is it not as true that many of them have given little or no thought as to the best methods in which these three things shall be done? The question of preparation for maidenhood and boyhood, for manhood and womanhood, is never considered for a moment. It has not dawned upon the many that they should teach their children that they are a small part, but nevertheless a very important part of the great living, thinking, striving world. That the next generation will be the better or the worse because they are a part of it. That they can fit themselves to be a blessing, or neglecting the fitting, make themselves a curse to the coming generation.

Teach them that before they can understand and help others, they must know themselves. Begin with their earliest instinctive questionings to answer truthfully, and glorify the thoughts that nature has implanted in every human heart, and that unless properly understood will become a snare and temptation to them. Many girls who have gone astray, or in some measure have become victims of their ignorance, have said to me in their remorse, “Oh, doctor, if my mother had only taught me these things, I should not have made the mistakes I have made. Why do mothers keep their girls in such ignorance?”

And many a mother, who has grown grey with the weight of care and years, after listening to a talk on maternal responsibilities, has exclaimed, “If I had only known these things while training my children, what a difference it would have made with my boys and girls, and how much of sorrow and regret I could have spared them all these years. How much less of regret should I have had.”

I like to think that in great measure, the mother is responsible for what her children know and don’t know. Ah, but you say, how can a mother be responsible for teaching her children aright when she has not been so taught herself? Doesn’t this very question prove my statement? Because the mothers behind you have shirked their responsibility, have you a right to shirk yours? Remember what we have already quoted, “What we need most is a generation of educated mothers.” And by this word “educated” is not meant “college trained” alone, but thoughtful, earnest, wide-awake, self-cultured women as well, who have at heart the highest good of themselves as well as those who come after them; and who are willing to give time and careful painstaking thought and research to the care of the home and to the mental, moral and physical training of their children. To such mothers every question of the little ones comes as the divine right exercised by the individual child, and as such receives proper attention and reply.

Never does such a mother turn her child away with the rebuke or fretful rejoinder, that she has no time for such questions. For what is a mother’s time given but to guide the feet of her babies into true paths; to be the answer book for all their puzzling problems? A true woman never compels her children to go elsewhere for the answers to questions which she herself should give. In answering be so truthful that they may never, even in thought, question your word. Blessed child of a more blessed mother, was the little girl, who when a mate questioned the truthfulness of a certain statement, excitedly replied, while her eyes flashed, “It is so, for my mamma said it was; and if my mamma said it was so, it is so if it isn’t so.”

When shall I begin to teach my children those things which pertain to their being and well-being, many mothers ask; and I would reply, just as soon as they begin to question. Not always will it be wise to answer their questions fully; but you may always, and should answer them as far as best, and then say, “That is all you can understand now, but as you grow older mamma will tell you more about it. Always come to me when you want to know about these things, for God gave you your mamma purposely to teach you in the right way, and who ought to know as well as a mother what her children should know?” I am often asked, “Isn’t it unsafe to tell children all that they want to know? will they not talk of it when and where they should not?” No, not if you teach them aright. If you do not tell them, some one else will, and often in a way which you should blush to know about. Unless you answer them frankly and truthfully concerning these pertinent questions of their being, the entire realm of sex, of nativity, of fatherhood and motherhood, which should be among the most sacred things of their knowledge, will be associated in their minds with sin, darkness and unholiness.

One needs to think long, earnestly and prayerfully along these lines, before these lessons can be taught in all their sweetness and purity. We need to go patiently back and divest them of all their coarseness and sin, with which wrong teaching, or no teaching at all, has clothed them, and then, dressing them in their legitimate garments of whiteness and purity, tell them to our girls and boys, so that it will be no longer necessary to say to our young men and women, “Know Thyself” for all shall know themselves, from the least to the greatest, and all that “self” stands for.

At the mother’s knee is the true primary school for these great questions to be learned, and happy the mother who can take her children through all the higher grades, until their education in these things is completed.

Every child is an animated interrogation point, and they have a right to be, for so they learn. Meet them with loving frankness and you will never need confess that you have lost the confidence of your children. They will turn to you as steel to a magnet, attracted by this loving bond of sympathy and truthfulness. “Mamma, where did I come from?” opens the way, dear mother, for the most beautiful truth you can teach your child, next to its new birth.

“But I don’t know how to teach it,” you say; then tell your little one, “that’s a long question, darling, and mamma must think out the simplest way to answer it, and in a few days I will tell you all about it.” Then away to your own room and down on your knees before God, until the subject is divested of every shadow of sin and darkness, and then in this pure light think for your life, and if you cannot formulate your thoughts as you would, hurry at your first leisure to the wisest woman you know in these things and talk with her about it. It is so simple after all, and if told in a matter-of-fact way, with no hesitation or blushing, it will be so received by your child.

The simplest way is to teach them that the egg from which the little bird or downy chicken comes, is laid by the mamma bird or hen, and then she sits upon it to keep it warm, while it grows in the shell until it gets too large to stay there longer, when it bursts the bonds and comes out a downy, active little bird or chicken. “In much the same way, my darling, you grew; only instead of your being able to see the little egg, which was your beginning, it was kept warm and snug in a little room in mamma’s body, while you grew from a tiny speck of an egg, so small that you could not see it with the naked eye, into a fat, beautiful, rollicking baby; then you came out through a little door made purposely for it, and was nestled in mamma’s bosom forever after. I think it must be you are kept hidden away while you grow, because mammas are so busy, you might be forgotten if you were in any other nest, and you would get cold and die. As it is, mamma carries you wherever she goes, and whatever she is doing; and you are always nestled snugly and warmly in the little cradle God made purposely for you, and where mamma can feel you moving about as you grow, for you are right under her heart.”

It will do them no harm to take them a little into the agony of the birth chamber; they will love and reverence you the more, and feel the closer bond. One dear boy on hearing the story of his birth, throwing his arms about his mother’s neck, while the tears streamed down his cheeks, exclaimed, “Oh, how boys ought to love their mothers.”

Tell the boys as well as the girls, dear mothers, and do not make the mistake so often made, in thinking it will do no good to talk to the boys. It will do all the good in the world, and they will bless your memory for it; aye, more, their wives and all good women will bless you as well. Just one illustration to prove my point, and to encourage mothers who have put off teaching their children later than they should.

A mother who had but one child, a son, who had grown to be fifteen, untaught in these things, as so many boys are, had grown away from his mother and sought companionship that was not all it should have been, outside the home. The mother in a heart to heart talk with a friend, expressed her grief that she had lost the confidence of her boy. “He has grown away from me,” she said. “I see,” said the friend, “but why don’t you tell him your condition”—she was expecting then a little one—“and nine chances in ten you will win him back.” “Oh,” said the mother, “I could never talk with him of such things. What could I say?” “Don’t you suppose he knows already?” said the friend. “Yes, I am sure he does, for he seems shy and conscious when he looks at me.” “Then why be afraid to talk to him of it?”

Then followed a long earnest talk of what she had missed all these years in neglecting the teaching that the boy must and would have, and had probably gotten from those who had clothed it in impurity and shame, instead of purity and loveliness. And a promise was exacted that she would talk with her boy and tell him as only a mother can, of her condition, and of her sorrow that she had lost his full confidence, which she once had and delighted in so much.

But in her timidity the time passed and the confidence was not given until the very day of her confinement. The boy rushed into the house and found the mother alone in the agony of labor, the father having gone for the physician and nurse.

“What is the matter, mamma? You are sick. Can’t I help you?” At the loving question the broken promise came to mind, and in the desperation born of her suffering, she resolved to tell him still. “Oh, son, darling, I’m going to have a baby;” she groaned in her agony. “Oh, mamma, why didn’t you tell me that you needed me?” he exclaimed, as he threw his arms around his mother’s neck. “I thought you didn’t want me to know, because you never talked to me about such things, but I wish you had.” And they were crying together, mother and son, thinking the same thoughts, all reserve broken down, loving in the same old way, and the lost confidence restored.

The questions relating to their being and to the mysteries of procreation are legitimate ones, and demand a patient hearing. They should be met with such pure candor, that they shall never in the minds of innocent childhood be clothed in a mystery which is too often interpreted as sin. Little wonder that untaught boys grow to be men that trample upon every holy instinct of womanhood, and set at naught the sacredness of maternity.

I have read somewhere of a great physician who gave finely illustrated lectures to women upon the subjects relating to maternity. One wise mother who had listened with wrapt interest to his talks, called at his office one day with her twin boys seven years old. “Doctor,” she said, “I would like you to show my boys the beautiful anatomical plates that you use in your lectures, and tell them about some of them.” “Certainly, madam,” he replied, “I will gladly do so.”

He turned them over one by one, answering an eager question here and there, put by the bright boys, until he came to one illustrating twin pregnancy, which he passed hastily over without giving an opportunity for sight or question. “Stop, doctor,” said the mother. “That is the very one I want my boys to see. I have promised them that as soon as they were old enough I would tell them all about the little room in mamma’s body where they grew for nine months before they came into her arms.”

The doctor was struck with confusion and could not utter a word. He who had stood before great audiences of adults and taught them unblushingly the secrets of being, was silent before innocent childhood. The mother was forced to be the teacher, when she had looked to one wiser to enforce the lesson. Standing in the presence of the great doctor, she told them in pure sweet words the story of their prenatal life and of her motherhood, not forgetting to tell of the great pain which was all forgotten so soon in the gladness that her baby boys were born to her.

She finished, and there were tears upon the faces of all her listeners. “Oh, mamma, how good boys ought to be to their mothers,” said one of the twins; while the doctor exclaimed, “Madam, that was the finest lecture upon the subject to which I ever listened. Go on so teaching your boys and they will be men that the world will be proud of and greatly need.” This is the kind of seed-sowing which not only bears a rich harvest of purity and innocent knowledge, but as well keeps out the weeds of sin and impurity, which curiosity gratified by secret whisperings always sows.

“The true mother is a teacher whether she is conscious of it or not, and the true teacher uses the innate mother element—that which broods over the child and warms it into life—as much as she does her acquired knowledge.”

Just as surely as the child in prenatal life drew his nourishment mental, moral, and physical, from the mother, so surely in postnatal life will he look to her for example, for strength, for encouragement in all virtues, for warning against pitfalls, for direction in all knowledge, for comfort in sorrow, for real heart’s-ease, for cheer and inspiration in the race of life. God pity and forgive the mother, who has no storehouse from which her children can draw their supplies of comfort and courage and rest.

I like to think of the wonderful Shepherd Psalm as a prototype of what God designs the parents to be to their children. Remember the ancient shepherd _led_ his sheep; so should the mother, in obedience to God and her higher nature, in loveliness, in patience, in hope, in cheerfulness, in sweet charity, lead her little ones in the “Paths of righteousness.”