While we were at breakfast the next morning, a sweet little gay girl
flew into the room almost breathless with joy, and running to her
mother, presented her with a beautiful nosegay.
"O, I see you were the industrious girl last week, Kate," said Mrs.
Stanley, embracing her, and admiring the flowers. Lady Belfield looked
inquisitively. "It is an invention of Lucilla's," said the mother, "that
the little one who performs best in the school-room, instead of having
any reward which may excite vanity or sensuality, shall be taught to
gratify a better feeling, by being allowed to present her mother with a
nosegay of the finest flowers, which it is reward enough to see worn at
dinner, to which she is always admitted when there is no company."
"Oh pray do not consider us as company; pray let Kate dine with us
to-day," said Lady Belfield. Mrs. Stanley bowed her assent and went on.
"But this is not all. The flowers they present, they also raise. I went
rather too far, when I said that no vanity was excited; they are vain
enough of their carnations, and each is eager to produce the largest. In
this competition, however, the vanity is not personal. Lucilla has some
skill in raising flowers: each girl has a subordinate post under her.
Their father often treats them with half a day's work, and then they all
treat me with tea and cakes in the honey-suckle arbor of their own
planting, which is called Lucilla's bower. It would be hard to say
whether parents or children most enjoy these happy holidays."
At dinner Mrs. Stanley appeared with her nosegay in a large knot of
ribbons, which was eyed with no small complacency by little Kate. I
observed that Lucilla, who used to manifest much pleasure in the
conversation after dinner, was beckoned out of the room by Ph[oe]be, as
soon as it was over. I felt uneasy at an absence to which I had not been
accustomed; but the cause was explained, when, at six o'clock, Kate, who
was the queen of the day, was sent to invite us to drink tea in
Lucilla's bower: we instantly obeyed the summons.
"I knew nothing of this," said the delighted mother, while we were all
admiring the elegant arrangements of this little fete. The purple
clematis, twisting its flexile branches with those of the pale woodbine,
formed a sweet and fragrant canopy to the arched bower, while the
flowery tendrils hung down on all sides. Large bunches of roses,
intermixed with the silver stars of the jessamine, were stuck into the
moss on the inside as a temporary decoration only. The finest plants had
been brought from the green-house for the occasion. It was a delicious
evening, and the little fairy festivity, together with the flitting
about of the airy spirits which had prepared it, was absolutely
enchanting. Sir John, always poetical, exclaimed in rapture,
"Hesperian fables true,
If true, here only."
I needed not this quotation to bring the garden of Eden to my mind, for
Lucilla presided. Ph[oe]be was all alive. The other little ones had
decorated Kate's flaxen hair with a wreath of woodbines. They sung two
or three baby stanzas, which they had composed among themselves, in
which Kate was complimented as queen of the fete. The youngest daughter
of Lady Aston, who was about Kate's age, and two little girls of Dr.
Barlow's, were of the children's party on the green. The elder sisters
of both families made part of the company within.
When we were all seated in our enchanting bower, and drinking our tea,
at which we had no other attendants than the little Hebes themselves, I
asked Kate how it happened that she seemed to be distinguished on this
occasion from her little sisters. "Oh, sir," said she, "it is because it
is my birth-day. I am eight years old to-day. I gave up all my gilt
books, with pictures, this day twelvemonth, and to-day I give up all my
little story books, and I am now going to read such books as men and
women read."
She then ran to her companions who ranged themselves round a turf seat
at a little distance before us, to which were transferred a profusion of
cakes and fruit from the bower. While they were devouring them, I turned
to Mr. Stanley and desired an explanation of Kate's speech.
"I make," said he, "the renouncing their baby books a kind of epocha,
and by thus distinctly marking the period, they never think of returning
back to them. We have in our domestic plan several of these artificial
divisions of life. These little celebrations are eras that we use as
marking-posts, from which we set out on some new course."
"But as to Kate's books?" said Lady Belfield.
"We have," replied Mr. Stanley, "too many elementary books. They are
read too much and too long. The youthful mind, which was formerly sick
from inanition, is now in danger from a plethora. Much, however, will
depend on capacity and disposition. A child of slower parts may be
indulged till nine years old with books which a lively genius will look
down upon at seven. A girl of talents _will_ read. To _her_ no
excitement is wanting. The natural appetite is a sufficient incentive.
The less brilliant child requires the allurement of lighter books. She
wants encouragement as much as the other requires restraint."
"But don't you think," said Lady Belfield, "that they are of great use
in attracting children to love reading?"
"Doubtless they are," said Mr. Stanley. "The misfortune is, that the
stimulants used to attract at first, must be not only continued but
heightened, to keep up the attraction. These books are novels in
miniature, and the excess of them will lead to the want of novels at
full length. The early use of savory dishes is not usually followed by
an appetite for plain food. To the taste thus pampered, history becomes
dry, grammar laborious, and religion dull.
"My wife, who was left to travel through the wide expanse of Universal
History, and the dreary deserts of Rapin and Mezerai, is, I will venture
to assert, more competently skilled in ancient, French, and English
history, than any of the girls who have been fed, or rather starved, on
extracts and abridgments. I mean not to recommend the two last named
authors for very young people. They are dry and tedious, and children in
our day have opportunities of acquiring the same knowledge with less
labor. We have brighter, I wish I could say safer, lights. Still fact,
and not wit, is the leading object of history.
"Mrs. Stanley says, that the very tediousness of her historians had a
good effect; they were a ballast to her levity, a discipline to her
mind, of which she has felt the benefit in her subsequent life.
"But to return to the mass of children's books. The too great profusion
of them protracts the imbecility of childhood. They arrest the
understanding, instead of advancing it. They give forwardness without
strength. They hinder the mind from making vigorous shoots, teach it to
stoop when it should soar, and to contract when it should expand. Yet I
allow that many of them are delightfully amusing, and to a certain
degree instructive. But they must not be used as the basis of
instruction, and but sparingly used at all as refreshment from labor."
"They inculcate morality and good actions surely," said Lady Belfield.
"It is true," replied Mr. Stanley, "but they often inculcate them on a
worldly principle, and rather teach the pride of virtue, and the profit
of virtue, than point out the motive of virtue, and the principle of
sin. They reprobate bad actions as evil and injurious to others, but not
as an offense against the Almighty. Whereas the Bible comes with a
plain, straightforward, simple, but powerful principle--'How shall I do
this great wickedness against GOD?' 'Against THEE, THEE only have I
sinned, and done this evil in THY sight.'
"Even children should be taught that when a man has committed the
greatest possible crime against his fellow creature, still the offense
against God is what will strike a true penitent with the most deep
remorse. All morality which is not drawn from this scriptural source is
weak, defective, and hollow. These entertaining authors seldom ground
their stories on any intimation that human nature is corrupt; that the
young reader is helpless, and wants assistance; that he is guilty, and
wants pardon."
"Surely, my dear Mr. Stanley," said Lady Belfield, "though I do not
object to the truth and reasonableness of any thing you have said, I can
not think that these things can possibly be made intelligible to
children."
"The framers of our catechism, madam, thought otherwise," replied Mr.
Stanley. "The catechism was written for children, and contains all the
seeds and principles of Christianity for men. It evidently requires much
explanation, much development; still it furnishes a wide and important
field for colloquial instruction, without which young persons can by no
means understand a composition so admirable, but so condensed. The
catechism speaks expressly of 'a death unto sin'--of 'a new birth unto
righteousness'--of 'being born in sin'--of being the 'children of
wrath'--of becoming the 'children of grace'--of 'forsaking sin by
repentance'--of 'believing the promises of God by faith.' Now while
children are studying these great truths in the catechism, they are
probably, at the same time, almost constantly reading some of those
entertaining stories which are grounded and built on a quite opposite
principle, and do not even imply the existence of any such fundamental
truths."
"Surely," interrupted Lady Belfield, "you would not have these serious
doctrines brought forward in story books?"
"By no means, madam," replied Mr. Stanley; "but I will venture to assert
that even story books should not be founded on a principle directly
_contradictory_ to them, nay, totally _subversive_ of them. The Arabian
Nights, and other oriental books of fable, though loose and faulty in
many respects, yet have always a reference to the religion of the
country. Nothing is introduced against the law of Mohammed; nothing
subversive of the opinions of a Mussulman. I do not quarrel with books
for having _no_ religion, but for having a _false_ religion. A book
which in nothing opposes the principle of the Bible, I would be far from
calling a bad book, though the Bible was never named in it."
Lady Belfield observed, "That she was sorry to say her children found
religious studies very dry and tiresome; though she took great pains,
and made them learn by heart a multitude of questions and answers, a
variety of catechisms and explanations, and the best abridgments of the
Bible."
"My dear Lady Belfield," replied Mr. Stanley, "you have fully accounted
for the dryness and dullness of which you complain. Give them the _Bible
itself_. I never yet knew a child who did not delight in the Bible
histories, and who would not desire to hear them again and again. From
the histories, Mrs. Stanley and I proceed with them to the parables; and
from them to the miracles, and a few of the most striking prophecies.
When they have acquired a good deal of this desultory knowledge, we
begin to weave the parts into a whole. The little girl who had the honor
of dining with you to-day, has begun this morning to read the Scriptures
with her mother systematically. We shall soon open to her something of
the _scheme_ of Christianity, and explain how those miracles and
prophecies confirm the truth of that religion in which she is to be more
fully instructed.
"Upon their historical knowledge, which they acquire by picking out the
most interesting stories, we endeavor to ground principles to enlighten
their minds, and precepts to influence their conduct. With the genuine
language of Scripture I have taken particular care they shall be well
acquainted, by digging for the ore in its native bed. While they have
been studying the stories, their minds have at the same time been imbued
with the impressive phraseology of Scripture. I make a great point of
this, having often seen this useful impression effectually prevented by
a multitude of subsidiary histories and explanations, which too much
supersede the use of the original text.
"Only observe," continued he, "what divine sentiments, what holy
precepts, what devout ejaculations, what strokes of self-abasement, what
flights of gratitude, what transports of praise, what touches of
penitential sorrow, are found comprised in some one short sentence woven
into almost every part of the historical Scriptures! Observe this, and
then confess what a pity it is that children should be commonly set to
read the history in a meagre abridgment, stripped of those gems with
which the original is so richly inlaid! These histories and expositions
become very useful afterward to young people who are thoroughly
conversant with the Bible itself."
Sir John observed that he had been struck with the remarkable
_disinterestedness_ of Mr. Stanley's daughters, and their indifference
to things about which most children were so eager. "Selfishness," said
Mr. Stanley, "is the hydra we are perpetually combating; but the monster
has so much vitality, that new heads spring up as fast as the old ones
are cut off. _To counteract selfishness, that inborn, inbred mischief, I
hold to be the great art of education._ Education, therefore, can not be
adequately carried on, except by those who are deeply convinced of the
doctrine of human corruption. This evil principle, as it shows itself
early, must be early lopped, or the rapid shoots it makes will, as your
favorite Eve observes,
Soon mock our scant manuring.
"This counteraction," continued Mr. Stanley, "is not like an art or a
science, which is to be taken up at set times, and laid aside till the
allotted period of instruction returns; but as the evil shows itself at
all times, and in all shapes, the _whole force_ of instruction is to be
bent against it. Mrs. Stanley and I endeavor that not one reward we
bestow, not one gratification we afford, shall be calculated to promote
it. Gratifications children ought to have. The appetites and
inclinations should be reasonably indulged. We only are cautious not to
employ them as _the instrument of recompense_, which would look as if we
valued them highly, and thought them a fit remuneration for merit. I
would rather show a little indulgence to sensuality _as_ sensuality,
than make it the reward of goodness, which seems to be the common way.
While I indulged the appetite of a child, I would never hold out that
indulgence which I granted to the lowest, the animal part of his nature,
as a payment for the exertion of his mental or moral faculties."
"You have one great advantage," said Sir John, "and I thank God it is
the same in Cavendish-square, that you and Mrs. Stanley draw evenly
together. Nothing impedes domestic regulation so effectually as where
parents, from difference of sentiment, ill-humor, or bad judgment,
obstruct each other's plans, or where one parent makes the other
insignificant in the eyes of their children."
"Mr. Reynolds," replied Mr. Stanley, "a friend of mine in this
neighborhood, is in this very predicament. To the mother's weakness the
father's temperate discipline seems cruelty. She is perpetually blaming
him before the children for setting them to their books. Her attentions
are divided between their health, which is perfect, and their pleasure,
which is obstructed by her foolish zeal to promote it, far more than by
his prudent restrictions. Whatever the father helps them to at table,
the mother takes from them, lest it should make them sick. What he
forbids is always the very thing which is good for them. She is much
more afraid, however, of overloading their memories than their stomachs.
Reading, she says, will spoil the girls' eyes, stooping to write will
ruin their chests, and working will make them round-shouldered. If the
boys run, they will have fevers; if they jump, they will sprain their
ankles; if they play at cricket, a blow may kill them; if they swim,
they may be drowned; the shallowness of the stream is no argument of
safety.
"Poor Reynolds' life is one continued struggle between his sense of duty
to his children, and his complaisance to his wife. If he carries his
point, it is at the expense of his peace; if he relaxes, as he commonly
does, his children are the victims. He is at length brought to submit
his excellent judgment to her feeble mind, lest his opposition should
hurt her health; and he has the mortification of seeing his children
trained as if they had nothing but bodies.
"To the wretched education of Mrs. Reynolds herself, all this mischief
may be attributed; for she is not a bad, though an ignorant woman; and
having been harshly treated by her own parents, she fell into the vulgar
error of vulgar minds, that of supposing the opposite of wrong must
necessarily be right. As she found that being perpetually contradicted
had made herself miserable, she concluded that never being contradicted
at all would make her children happy. The event has answered as might
have been foreseen. Never was a more discontented, disagreeing,
troublesome family. The gratification of one want instantly creates a
new one. And it is only when they are quite worn out with having done
nothing, that they take refuge in their books, as less wearisome than
idleness."
Sir John, turning to Lady Belfield, said in a very tender tone, "My dear
Caroline, this story, in its principal feature, does not apply to us. We
concur completely, it is true, but I fear we concur by being both
wrong: we both err by excessive indulgence. As to the case in point,
while children are young, they may perhaps lean to the parent that
spoils them, but I have never yet seen an instance of young persons,
where the parents differed, who did not afterward discover a much
stronger affection for the one who had reasonably restrained them, than
for the other, whose blind indulgence had at once diminished her
importance and their own reverence."
I observed to Mr. Stanley, that as he had so noble a library, and wished
to inspire his children with the love of literature, I was surprised to
see their apartment so slenderly provided with books.
"This is the age of excess in every thing," replied he; "nothing is a
gratification of which the want has not been previously felt. The wishes
of children are all so anticipated, that they never experience the
pleasure excited by wanting and waiting. Of their initiatory books they
_must_ have a pretty copious supply. But as to books of entertainment or
instruction of a higher kind, I never allow them to possess one of their
own, till they have attentively read and improved by it; this gives them
a kind of title to it; and that desire of property, so natural to human
creatures, I think stimulates them in dispatching books which are in
themselves a little dry. Expectation with them, as with men, quickens
desire, while possession deadens it."
By this time the children had exhausted all the refreshments set before
them, and had retreated to a little further distance, where, without
disturbing us, they freely enjoyed their innocent gambols: playing,
singing, laughing, dancing, reciting verses, trying which could puzzle
the other in the names of plants, of which they pulled single leaves to
increase the difficulty, all succeeded each other. Lady Belfield looking
consciously at me, said, "These are the creatures whom I foolishly
suspected of being made miserable by restraint, and gloomy through want
of indulgence."
"After long experience," said Mr. Stanley, "I will venture to pronounce,
that not all the anxious cutting out of pleasure, not all the costly
indulgences which wealth can procure, not all the contrivances of
inventive man for his darling youthful offspring, can find out an
amusement so pure, so natural, so cheap, so rational, so healthful, I
had almost said so religious, as that unbought pleasure connected with a
garden."
Kate and Celia, who had for some time been peeping into the bower, in
order to catch an interval in the conversation, as soon as they found
our attention disengaged, stole in among us, each took the fond father
by a hand, and led him to the turf seat. Ph[oe]be presented him a book
which he opened, and out of it read with infinite humor, grace, and
gayety, THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN. This, it seems, was a
pleasure to which they had been led to look forward for some time, but
which, in honor of Kate, had been purposely withheld till this memorable
day. His little auditors, who grouped themselves around him on the
grass, were nearly convulsed with laughter, nor were the tenants of the
bower much less delighted.
As we walked into the house, Mr. Stanley said, "Whenever I read to my
children a light and gay composition, which I often do, I generally take
care it shall be the work of some valuable author, to whose writings
this shall be a pleasant and tempting prelude. What child of spirit who
hears John Gilpin, will not long to be thought old and wise enough to
read the 'Task?' The remembrance of the infant rapture will give a
predilection for the poet. Desiring to keep their standard high, I
accustom them to none but good writers, in every sense of the word; by
this means they will be less likely to stoop to ordinary ones when they
shall hereafter come to choose for themselves."
Lady Belfield regretted to me that she had not brought some of her
children to the Grove. "To confess a disgraceful truth," said she, "I
was afraid they would have been moped to death; and to confess another
truth still more disgraceful to my own authority, my indulgence has been
so injudicious, and I have maintained so little control, that I durst
not bring some of them, for fear of putting the rest out of humor; I am
now in a school where I trust I may learn to acquire firmness, without
any diminution of fondness."