CARE OF THE HABITS.--IMPORTANCE OF HABIT.
The importance of HABIT 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.
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. 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.
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.
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 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 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 _their_ 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 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 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 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.
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]
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 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 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
_as early as possible_; and this course of training would effectually
preserve the child _from every approach to the formation of any other
habits than those inculcated by the teacher_."--(Remarks, &c., pp. 11,
12).
[A] "Remarks on the Advantages of early Training and Management
of Children." By a Colonist. Ollivier, 59, Pall-Mall.
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 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, 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.
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
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.
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
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.
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.
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.