But now, my dear Mr. B., if you will indulge me in a letter or two
more, preparative to my little book, I will take the liberty to touch
upon one or two other places, wherein I differ from this learned
gentleman. But first, permit me to observe, that if parents are, above
all things, to avoid giving bad examples to their children, they
will be no less careful to shun the practice of such fond fathers and
mothers, as are wont to indulge their children in bad habits, and give
them their head, at a time when, like wax, their tender minds may
be moulded into what shape they please. This is a point that, if it
please God, I will carefully attend to, because it is the foundation
on which the superstructure of the whole future man is to be erected.
For, according as he is indulged or checked in his childish follies,
a ground is laid for his future happiness or misery; and if once they
are suffered to become habitual to him, it cannot but be expected,
that they will grow up with him, and that they will hardly ever be
eradicated. "Try it," says Mr. Locke, speaking to this very point, "in
a dog, or a horse, or any other creature, and see whether the ill and
resty tricks they have learned when young, are easily to be mended,
when they are knit; and yet none of these creatures are half so wilful
and proud, or half so desirous to be masters of themselves, as men."
And this brings me, dear Sir, to the head of _punishments_, in which,
as well as in the article of _rewards_, which I have touched upon, I
have a little objection to what Mr. Locke advances.
But permit me, however, to premise, that I am exceedingly pleased with
the method laid down by this excellent writer, rather to shame the
child out of his fault, than beat him; which latter serves generally
for nothing but to harden his mind.
_Obstinacy_, and telling a _lie_, and committing a _wilful_ fault,
and then persisting in it, are, I agree with this gentleman, the only
causes for which the child should be punished with stripes: and
I admire the reasons he gives against a too rigorous and severe
treatment of children.
But I will give Mr. Locke's words, to which I have some objection.
"It may be doubted," says he, "concerning whipping, when, as the
_last_ remedy, it comes to be necessary, at _what time_, and by whom,
it should be done; whether presently, upon the committing the
fault, whilst it is yet fresh and hot. I think it should not be done
presently," adds he, "lest passion mingle with it; and so, though it
exceed the just proportion, yet it lose of its due weight. For even
children discern whenever we do things in a passion."
I must beg leave, dear Sir, to differ from Mr. Locke in this point;
for I think it ought rather to be a rule with parents, who shall
chastise their children, to conquer what would be extreme in _their
own_ passion on this occasion (for those who cannot do it, are very
unfit to be the punishers of the wayward passions of their children),
than to _defer_ the punishment, especially if the child knows its
fault has reached its parent's ear. It is otherwise, methinks, giving
the child, if of an obstinate disposition, so much more time to harden
its mind, and bid defiance to its punishment.
Just now, dear Sir, your Billy is brought into my presence, all
smiling, crowing to come to me, and full of heart-cheering promises;
and the subject I am upon goes to my heart. Surely I can never beat
your Billy!--Dear little life of my life! how can I think thou canst
ever deserve it, or that I can ever inflict it?--No, my baby, that
shall be thy papa's task, if ever thou art so heinously naughty; and
whatever _he_ does, must be right. Pardon my foolish fondness, dear
Sir!--I will proceed.
If, then, the fault be so atrocious as to deserve whipping, and the
parent be resolved on this exemplary punishment, the child ought not,
as I imagine, to come into one's presence without meeting with it:
or else, a fondness too natural to be resisted, will probably get the
upper hand of one's resentment, and how shall one be able to whip the
dear creature one had ceased to be angry with? Then after he has once
seen one without meeting his punishment, will he not be inclined to
hope for connivance at his fault, unless it should be repeated? And
may he not be apt (for children's resentments are strong) to impute
to cruelty a correction (when he thought the fault had been forgotten)
that should always appear to be inflicted with reluctance, and through
motives of love?
If, from anger at his fault, one should go _above the due proportion_,
(I am sure I might be trusted for this!) let it take its course!--How
barbarously, methinks, I speak!--He ought to _feel_ the lash, first,
because he _deserves_ it, poor little soul? Next, because it is
_proposed_ to be exemplary. And, lastly, because it is not intended to
be _often_ used: and the very passion or displeasure one expresses (if
it be not enormous) will shew one is in earnest, and create in him a
necessary awe, and fear to offend again. The _end_ of the correction
is to shew him the difference between right and wrong. And as it
is proper to take him at his first offer of a full submission and
repentance (and not before), and instantly dispassionate one's self,
and shew him the difference by acts of pardon and kindness (which
will let him see that one punishes him out of necessity rather than
choice), so one would not be afraid to make him smart so sufficiently,
that he should not soon forget the severity of the discipline, nor
the disgrace of it. There's a cruel mamma for you, Mr. B.! What my
_practice_ may be, I cannot tell; but this _theory_, I presume to
think, is right.
As to the _act_ itself, I much approve Mr. Locke's advice, to do it
by pauses, mingling stripes and expostulations together, to shame and
terrify the more; and the rather, as the parent, by this slow manner
of inflicting the punishment, will less need to be afraid of giving
too violent a correction; for those pauses will afford _him_, as well
as the _child_, opportunities for consideration and reflection.
But as to the _person_, by whom the discipline should be performed,
I humbly conceive, that this excellent author is here also to be
objected to.
"If you have a discreet servant," says he, "capable of it, and has the
place of governing your child (for if you have a tutor, there is no
doubt), I think it is best the smart should come immediately from
another's hand, though by the parent's order, who should see it done,
whereby the parent's authority will be preserved, and the child's
aversion for the pain it suffers, rather be turned on the person that
immediately inflicts it. For I would have a father seldom strike a
child, but upon very urgent necessity, and as the last remedy."
'Tis in such an urgent case that we are supposing that it should be
done at all. If there be not a reason strong enough for the father's
whipping the child himself, there cannot be one for his ordering
another to do it, and standing by to see it done. But I humbly think,
that if there be a necessity, no one can be so fit as the father
himself to do it. The child cannot dispute his authority to punish,
from whom he receives and expects all the good things of his life: he
cannot question _his_ love to him, and after the smart is over, and
his obedience secured, must believe that so tender, so indulgent a
father could have no other end in whipping him, but his good. Against
_him_, he knows he has no remedy, but must passively submit; and when
he is convinced he _must_, he will in time conclude that he _ought_.
But to have this severe office performed by a servant, though at the
father's command, and that professedly, that the aversion of the child
for the pain it suffers should be turned on the person who immediately
inflicts it, is, I humbly think, the _reverse_ of what ought to be
done. And _more_ so, if this servant has any direction of the child's
education; and still much _more_ so, if it be his tutor, though Mr.
Locke says, there is no doubt, if there be a tutor, that it should be
done by him.
For, dear Sir, is there no doubt, that the tutor should lay himself
open to the aversion of the child, whose manners he is to form? Is not
the best method a tutor can take, in order to enforce the lessons he
would inculcate, to try to attract the love and attention of his pupil
by the most winning ways he can possibly think of? And yet is _he_,
this very tutor _out of all doubt_, to be the instrument of doing an
harsh and disgraceful thing, and that in the last resort, when all
other methods are found ineffectual; and that too, because he ought to
incur the child's resentment and aversion, rather than the father? No,
surely, Sir, it is not reasonable it should be so: quite contrary,
in my humble notion, there can be no doubt, but that it should be
_otherwise_.
It should, methinks, be enough for a tutor, in case of a fault in the
child, to threaten to complain to his father; but yet not to make
such a complaint, without the child obstinately persists in his error,
which, too, should be of a nature to merit such an appeal: and this
might highly contribute to preserve the parent's authority; who, on
this occasion, should never fail of extorting a promise of amendment,
or of instantly punishing him with his own hands. And, to soften the
distaste he might conceive in resentment of too rigid complainings, it
might not be amiss, that his interposition in the child's favour, were
the fault not too flagrant, should be permitted to save him once or
twice from the impending discipline.
'Tis certain that the passions, if I may so call them, of affection
and aversion, are very early discoverable in children; insomuch
that they will, even before they can speak, afford us marks for the
detection of an hypocritical appearance of love to it before the
parents' faces. For the fondness or averseness of the child to some
servants, will at any time let one know, whether their love to the
baby is uniform and the same, when one is absent, as present. In one
case the child will reject with sullenness all the little sycophancies
made to it in one's sight; while on the other, its fondness of the
person, who generally obliges it, is an infallible rule to judge of
such an one's sincerity behind one's back. This little observation
shews the strength of a child's resentments, and its sagacity, at the
earliest age, in discovering who obliges, and who disobliges it: and
hence one may infer, how improper a person _he_ is, whom we would have
a child to love and respect, or by whose precepts we would have it
directed, to be the punisher of its faults, or to do any harsh or
disagreeable office to it.
For my own part, I beg to declare, that if the parent were not to
inflict the punishment himself, I think it much better it should be
given him, in the parent's presence, by the servant of the lowest
consideration in the family, and whose manners and example one would
be the least willing of any other he should follow. Just as the common
executioner, who is the lowest and most flagitious officer of the
commonwealth, and who frequently deserves, as much as the criminal,
the punishment he is chosen to inflict, is pitched upon to perform,
as a mark of greater ignominy, sentences intended as examples to deter
others from the commission of heinous crimes. The Almighty took this
method when he was disposed to correct severely his chosen people;
for, in that case, he generally did it by the hands of the most
profligate nations around them, as we read in many places of the Old
Testament.
But the following rule I admire in Mr. Locke: "When," says he (for any
misdemeanour), "the father or mother looks sour on the child, every
one else should put on the same coldness to him, and nobody give him
countenance till forgiveness is asked, and a reformation of his fault
has set him right again, and restored him to his former credit. If
this were constantly observed," adds he, "I guess there would be
little need of blows or chiding: their own ease or satisfaction would
quickly teach children to court commendation, and avoid doing that
which they found every body condemned, and they were sure to suffer
for, without being chid or beaten. This would teach them modesty and
shame, and they would quickly come to have a natural abhorrence for
that which they found made them slighted and neglected by every body."
This affords me a pretty hint; for if ever your charming Billy shall
be naughty, I will proclaim throughout your worthy family, that the
little dear is in disgrace! And one shall shun him, another decline
answering him, a third say, "No, master, I cannot obey you, till your
mamma is pleased with you"; a fourth, "Who shall mind what little
masters bid them do, when they won't mind what their mammas say to
them?" And when the dear little soul finds this, he will come in my
way, (and I see, pardon me, my dear Mr. B., he has some of his papa's
spirit, already, indeed he has!) and I will direct myself with double
kindness to your beloved Davers, and to my Miss Goodwin, and not
notice the dear creature, if I can help it, till I can see his _papa_
(forgive my boldness) banished from his little sullen brow, and all
his _mamma_ rise to his eyes. And when his musical tongue shall be
unlocked to own his fault, and promise amendment--O then! how shall I
clasp him to my bosom! and tears of joy, I know, will meet his tears
of penitence!
How these flights, dear Sir, please a body!-What delights have those
mammas (which some fashionable dear ladies are quite unacquainted
with) who can make their babies, and their first educations, their
entertainment and diversion! To watch the dawnings of reason in them,
to direct their little passions, as they shew themselves, to this
or that particular point of benefit or use; and to prepare the sweet
virgin soil of their minds to receive the seeds of virtue and goodness
so early, that, as they grow up, one need only now a little pruning,
and now a little water, to make them the ornaments and delights of
the garden of this life! And then their pretty ways, their fond
and grateful endearments, some new beauty every day rising to
observation--O my dearest Mr. B., whose enjoyments and pleasures are
so great, as those of such mothers as can bend their minds two or
three hours every day to the duties of the nursery?
I have a few other things to observe upon Mr. Locke's treatise, which,
when I have done, I shall read, admire, and improve by the rest, as my
years and experience advance; of which, in my proposed little book,
I shall give you better proofs than I am able to do at present; raw,
crude, and indigested as the notions of so young a mamma must needs
be.
But these shall be the subjects of another letter; for now I am come
to the pride and the pleasure I always have, when I subscribe myself,
dearest Sir, _your ever dutiful and grateful_