Others might perhaps enter a room as gracefully, or superintend
at table with as much dignity; the secret of her power lay in her
wonderful adaptation to all sorts of characters. She was emphatically
an _observing woman_. As Jefferson had no wife, she presided sixteen
years at Washington;[4] during all which time, she is said never to
have forgotten the most trifling peculiarities of character, that
had once come under her observation: she always remembered them,
and fashioned her conversation accordingly. Some may object to the
exercise of this power, lest it should lead to insincerity; and the
charge may well be brought against that kind of false politeness,
which springs merely from a love of popularity. Politeness is not
the only good thing corrupted by an unworthy motive; all precious
coins have a counterfeit. When we are polite to others entirely for
_our own sakes_, we are deceitful; nothing selfish has truth and
goodness in it. But there is such a thing as true politeness, always
kind, but never deceitful. It is right to cherish good-will toward
all our fellow-creatures, and to endeavor to make them as happy as
we conscientiously can. The outward forms of politeness are but the
expressions of such feelings as should be in every human heart. It
would be wrong to tell people we love them dearly, when in fact we know
nothing about them; or to urge them to visit our houses, when we do not
want to see them. But we are bound to be kind and attentive to all our
fellow-creatures, when they come in our way, and to avoid giving them
any unnecessary pain, by our manners or conversation.
In order to teach children the right sort of politeness, it must be
taught through the agency of a pure motive. They should not be taught
to observe and respect the feelings of others for the sake of making
themselves pleasing, but merely because it is kind and benevolent to do
so.
If I saw a child point out the patched or ragged garment of a poor
companion, I would not say, ‘You must not laugh at her clothes; if you
do, she will think you are proud’--I would say, ‘It grieves me very
much to see you so unkind. If your mother were poor, and could not
afford to get you new clothes, would it not hurt your feelings to be
laughed at? Does not the Bible tell you to do to others as you would
wish to have them do to you? You must observe this precious rule in
little things, as well as in great things.’
From the foregoing hints, it will be seen that true politeness is the
spontaneous movement of a good heart and an observing mind. Benevolence
will teach us tenderness towards the feelings of others, and habits
of observation will enable us to judge promptly and easily what those
feelings are.
Outward politeness can be learned in set forms at school; but at
the best, it will be hollow and deceptive. Genuine politeness, like
everything else that is genuine, must come from the heart.
FOOTNOTES:
[3] Pliny, who gave this advice, lived long before the invention of
printing; if such a precaution were necessary _then_, what would he say
_now_?
[4] When the president has no wife, or daughter, at Washington, the
lady of the highest officer in the cabinet presides at the mansion on
all state occasions.
CHAP. IX.
BEAUTY.--DRESS.--GENTILITY.
Wherever there is hypocrisy, or an apparent necessity for hypocrisy,
there is something wrong. In the management of children, are we sincere
on the subject of beauty? When we see a handsome person, or a handsome
animal, they hear us eagerly exclaim, ‘Oh, how beautiful!’ ‘What a
lovely creature!’ ‘What pretty eyes!’ ‘What a sweet mouth!’ &c. Yet
when children say anything about beauty, we tell them it is of no value
at all--that they must not think anything about beauty--‘handsome is
that handsome does,’ &c.
The influence would be very contradictory, did not the eagerness of
our exclamations and the coldness of our moral lessons both tend to
the same result; they both give children an idea that the subject is
of great importance. ‘Mother _tells_ me beauty is of no consequence,
because she thinks I shall be vain; but I am sure she and everybody
else seem to _think_ it is of consequence,’ said a shrewd little girl
of ten years old.
It certainly is natural to admire beauty, whether it be in human
beings, animals, or flowers; it is a principle implanted within
the human mind, and we cannot get rid of it. Beauty is the outward
form of goodness; and that is the reason we love it instinctively,
without thinking why we love it. The truth is, beauty is really of
_some_ consequence; but of very small consequence compared with good
principles, good feelings, and good understanding. In this manner
children ought to hear it spoken of. There should be no _affected_
indifference on this or any other subject. If a child should say,
‘Everybody loves Jane Snow--she is so pretty,’ I would answer, ‘Is Jane
Snow a good, kind little girl? I should be pleased with her pretty
face, and should want to kiss her, when I first saw her; but if I found
she was cross and selfish, I should not love her; and I should not wish
to have her about me.’ In this way the attention will be drawn from
the subject of beauty, to the importance of goodness; and there is no
affectation in the business--the plain truth is told. We do love beauty
at first sight; and we do cease to love it, if it be not accompanied by
amiable qualities.
Beauty is so much more obvious than the qualities of the mind and
heart, and meets so much more of spontaneous admiration, that we
should be very much on our guard against increasing the value of a
gift, which is almost unavoidably over-rated. But we must remember
that our common and involuntary modes of speaking are what form the
opinions of a child; moral maxims have little, or no effect, if they
are in opposition to our usual manner of speaking and acting. For this
reason, I would never call attention to beauty; and if dwelt upon with
delighted eagerness by others, I would always remark, ‘She looks as
if she had a sweet _disposition_, or a bright _mind_,’--thus leading
the attention from mere outward loveliness to moral and intellectual
beauty. I would even avoid constantly urging a child to put on a
bonnet, lest she should be tanned. I should prefer the simple reason,
‘It is proper to wear a bonnet out of doors; don’t you know mother
always wears one, when she goes out?’ I would rather a girl should have
her face tanned and freckled by heat, than have her mind tanned and
freckled by vanity.
Perhaps there is no gift with which mortals are endowed, that brings so
much danger as beauty, in proportion to the usefulness and happiness
it produces. It is so rare for a belle to be happy, or even contented,
after the season of youth is past, that it is considered almost a
miracle. If your daughter is handsome, it is peculiarly necessary that
she should not be taught to attach an undue importance to the dangerous
gift; and if she is plain, it certainly is not for her happiness to
consider it as a misfortune.
For the reasons above given, I would restrain myself in expressing
admiration of beauty; and when others expressed it, I would always
ask, ‘Is she good?’ ‘Is she amiable?’ &c. I would even act upon this
system toward a very little child. I would not praise the beauty of
his kitten; and if he himself said, ‘Oh, what a pretty puss! How I love
her!’ I would answer, ‘She is a pretty puss, and a good puss. If she
were cross, and scratched me every time I touched her, I should not
love her, though her fur is so pretty.’ All this caution is perfectly
consistent with truth. I would never say that beauty was of no
consequence in my opinion; because I could not say it truly.
With regard to dress, as in most other cases, a medium between two
extremes is desirable. A love of finery and display is a much more
common fault than neglect of personal appearance; both should be
avoided. Some parents teach their children to judge everybody’s merit
by their dress; they do not of course say it, in so many direct
words--but their influence produces that effect. What else can be the
result of hearing such expressions as the following?--‘Mr. ---- is very
much of a gentleman; he is always remarkably well dressed.’ ‘Is such a
lady a desirable acquaintance? I presume she is; for she is always very
genteelly dressed.’
There are some people, who go to the opposite extreme, and represent
any attention to dress as unworthy of a strong mind; becoming costume
is in their eyes a mark of frivolity. I hardly know which of the two
extremes is the worse. Extravagance in dress does great mischief both
to fortune and character; but want of neatness, and want of taste are
peculiarly disgusting. If finery betrays a frivolous mind, sluttishness
and bad taste certainly betray an ill-regulated one. Neatness and
taste naturally proceed from a love of order. A mother should not
talk about dress, for the same reasons that she should not talk about
beauty; but she should be careful to have her own dress always neat,
and well-fitted, and to show a pure and delicate taste in the choice
of colors. By these means, children will form the habit of dressing
well, without ever thinking much about it; the habit will be so early
formed, that it will seem like a gift of nature. Miss Hamilton gives,
in one short sentence, all that can be said upon the subject; she says,
‘Always dress in good taste; but let your children see that it employs
very little of your time, less of your thoughts, and none at all of
your affections.’
The wish to place children in as good society as possible is natural
and proper; but it must be remembered that _genteel_ society is not
always _good_ society. If your manners and conversation imply more
respect for wealth than for merit, your children, of course, will
choose their acquaintance and friends according to the style they can
support, not according to character. Let your family see that you most
desire the acquaintance of those who have correct principles, good
manners, and the power of imparting information. I have heard mothers
say, ‘To be sure Mr. and Mrs. ---- do not bear a very good character;
but they live in a great deal of style; they give beautiful parties;
and it is very convenient to have the friendship of such people.’ What
sort of morality can be expected of a family who have been accustomed
to such maxims? What heartless, selfish, unprincipled beings are formed
by such lessons! If they do not succeed in attaining the splendor
they have been taught to covet, they will be envious, jealous, and
miserable; if they do attain it, the most that can be said is, they
will spend their thousands in trying to _appear_ happy before the
world.
Human ambition and human policy labor after happiness in vain; goodness
is the only foundation to build upon. The wisdom of past ages declares
this truth, and our own observation confirms it; all the world
acknowledge it; yet how few, how very few, are willing to act upon it!
We _say_ we believe goodness is always happiness, in every situation of
life, and that happiness should be our chief study; we know that wealth
and distinction do not bring happiness; but we are anxious our children
should possess them, because they _appear_ to confer enjoyment. What a
motive for immortal beings!
If the inordinate love of wealth and parade be not checked among us,
it will be the ruin of our country, as it has been, and will be, the
ruin of thousands of individuals. What restlessness, what discontent,
what bitterness, what knavery and crime, have been produced by this
eager passion for money! Mothers! as you love your children, and wish
for their happiness, be careful how you cherish this unquiet spirit, by
speaking and acting as if you thought wealth the greatest good. Teach
them to consider money valuable only for its use; and that it confers
respectability only when it is used well. Teach them to regard their
childish property as things held in trust for the benefit and pleasure
of their companions--that the only purpose of having anything to call
their own is that they may use it for the good of others. If this
spirit were more inculcated, we should not hear children so often say,
‘Let that alone; it is mine, and you sha’n’t have it.’ Neither should
we see such an unprincipled scrambling for wealth--such willingness
to cast off the nearest and dearest relations in the pursuit of
fashion--such neglect of unfortunate merit--and such servile adulation
to successful villany. I will not mention religion,--for its maxims
have nothing in common with worldly and selfish policy,--I will simply
ask what _republicanism_ there is in such rules of conduct?
But there are always two sides to a question. If it is pernicious to
make money and style the standard of respectability, it is likewise
injurious and wrong to foster a prejudice against the wealthy and
fashionable. If we experience the slightest degree of pleasure in
discovering faults or follies in those above us, there certainly is
something wrong in our own hearts. Never say to your family, ‘Such a
one feels above us’--‘Such a one is too proud to come and see us’--&c.
In the first place, perhaps it is not true; (for I know by experience
that the poor are apt to be unreasonably suspicious of the rich; they
begin by being cold and proud to their wealthy acquaintance, for fear
the wealthy mean to be cold and proud to them;) and even if it be
true that a rich neighbor is haughty, or even insolent, you should be
careful not to indulge bad passions, because he does. Your business is
with your own heart--keep that pure--and measure out to the rich man,
as well as the poor man, just as much of respect and regard as their
characters deserve, and no more.
Do not suffer your mind to brood over the external distinctions of
society. Neither seek nor avoid those who are superior in fortune; meet
them on the same ground as you do the rest of your fellow-creatures.
There is a dignified medium between cringing for notice, and acting
like a cat that puts up her back and spits, when no dog is coming.
Perhaps I say more on this subject than is necessary or useful. I am
induced to say it, from having closely observed the effect produced on
society by the broad and open field of competition in this country. All
blessings are accompanied with disadvantages; and it is the business
of the judicious to take the good and leave the evil. In this country,
every man can make his own station. This is indeed a blessing. But what
are some of the attendant dangers? Look at that parent, who is willing
to sacrifice her comfort, her principles, nay, even her pride, for the
sake of pushing her children into a little higher rank of life.
Look at another, too independent for such a course.
Hear how he loves to rail about the aristocracy--how much pleasure he
takes in _showing_ contempt of the rich. Is his own heart right? I fear
not. I fear that unbending independence, so honorable in itself, is
mixed with a baser feeling. The right path is between extremes. I would
never creep under a door, neither would I refuse to enter when it was
opened wide for my reception.
Poverty and wealth have different temptations, but they are equally
strong. The rich are tempted to pride and insolence; the poor to
jealousy and envy. The envious and discontented poor invariably become
haughty and overbearing when rich; for selfishness is equally at the
bottom of these opposite evils. Indeed, it is at the bottom of all
manner of evils.
CHAP. X.
MANAGEMENT DURING THE TEENS.
The period from twelve to sixteen years of age is extremely critical in
the formation of character, particularly with regard to daughters. The
imagination is then all alive, and the affections are in full vigor,
while the judgment is unstrengthened by observation, and enthusiasm has
never learned moderation of experience. During this important period,
a mother cannot be too watchful. As much as possible, she should keep
a daughter _under her own eye_; and, above all things, she should
encourage _entire confidence towards herself_. This can be done by a
ready sympathy with youthful feelings, and by avoiding all unnecessary
restraint and harshness. I believe it is extremely natural to choose
a mother in preference to all other friends and confidants; but if
a daughter, by harshness, indifference, or an unwillingness to make
allowance for youthful feeling, is driven from the holy resting place,
which nature has provided for her security, the greatest danger is to
be apprehended. Nevertheless, I would not have mothers too indulgent,
for fear of weaning the affections of children. This is not the way to
gain the perfect love of young people; a judicious parent is always
better beloved, and more respected, than a foolishly indulgent one. The
real secret is, for a mother never to sanction the slightest error,
or imprudence, but at the same time to keep her heart warm and fresh,
ready to sympathize with all the innocent gaiety and enthusiasm of
youth. _Salutary_ restraint, but not _unnecessary_ restraint, is
desirable.
I will now proceed to state what appears to me peculiarly important
at the age I have mentioned; and I trust the hints I may suggest will
prove acceptable to judicious parents. Heedlessness is so commonly the
fault of the teens, that I shall first mention the great importance
of habits of order, and neatness. The drawers, trunks and work-box
of a young lady should be occasionally inspected, for the purpose of
correcting any tendency to wastefulness, or sluttishness. Particular
care should be taken of the teeth; they should be washed with a clean
brush and water at least twice a day; to cleanse them just before
retiring to rest promotes sweetness of breath, and tends to preserve
them from decay. Buttons off, muslins wrinkled, the petticoat below the
edge of the gown, shoe-strings broken, and hair loose and straggling,
should never pass unnoticed. Serious advice from a father on these
subjects does more good than anything else. Smooth, well arranged hair,
and feet perfectly neat, give a genteel, tasteful appearance to the
whole person.
A dress distinguished for simplicity and freshness is abundantly more
lady-like than the ill-placed furbelows of fashion. It is very common
to see vulgar, empty-minded people perpetually changing their dresses,
without ever acquiring the air of a gentlewoman. If there is simplicity
in the choice of colors,--if clothes fit well, and are properly pinned,
tied and arranged,--if they always have a neat, fresh look,--and above
all, if the head and the feet are always in order,--nothing more is
required for a perfectly lady-like appearance.
Nothing tends to produce a love of order so much as the very early
habits of observation, and attention to trifles, which I have so
particularly urged in various parts of this book. I would teach a
daughter to observe such trifling things as the best manner of opening
a new piece of tape; and I would take every precaution to conquer the
spirit that leads young people to say ‘I don’t care,’ ‘No matter how it
is done,’--&c.
I have, in a previous chapter, spoken of the effect which habits
of observation have upon politeness of manner; and I cannot, while
speaking of an age peculiarly liable to affectation, pass by the
subject of good manners without saying a few words more concerning
that most disgusting and injurious fault. Let all your influence be
exerted to check the slightest appearance of affectation. No matter
whether it be affectation of goodness, of learning, of sentimentality,
of enthusiasm, of simplicity, or of gracefulness.--It will start up
in a multitude of new forms, like the fabled heads of the hydra--but
cut them off unsparingly. This fault, with its most artful covering,
is easily detected; nature has a quiet sincerity about her, that
cannot be mistaken, or counterfeited. An absence of all _anxiety_
to appear well, is the very surest way to be attractive. An entire
forgetfulness of self, and a good-natured wish to oblige and amuse
others, produce a feeling of ease in company, and more effectually give
the stamp of refined society, than all the affectation and finery in
the world. Bashfulness is very unbecoming and awkward, while modesty is
peculiarly fascinating to every one. People are bashful when they are
thinking about themselves and are _anxious_ to appear well; they are
modest when they forget themselves, and are simply _willing_ to do what
they can to make others happy. Proud people, unless they have long been
accustomed to taking the lead in society, are very apt to be bashful;
modesty and humility generally go together. Selfishness is the cause of
bashfulness, as well as of more serious evils.
Habits of order should be carried into expenses. From the time children
are twelve years old, they should keep a regular account of what they
receive, and what they expend. This will produce habits of care, and
make them think whether they employ their money usefully. It is an
excellent plan for a father, at the beginning of the year, to state
what he is willing each child, older than twelve, should expend
per quarter. At first, the greater part might be under a mother’s
direction, for clothes, and other necessaries; and only a small
portion be at the disposal of the child. In this way, a father knows
certainly what he expends for each; and domestic discord is not likely
to be produced by bills unexpectedly large. When the arrangement is
once made, nothing should be added; the idea of being helped out of
difficulties brought on by thoughtlessness and extravagance, would
defeat the express purpose of an allowance. A mother can generally tell
very nearly what it is necessary and proper for a daughter to expend
yearly; if you find you really have not allowed enough, make larger
provision the next year; but never add to what was originally agreed
upon, except under very extraordinary circumstances. At sixteen years
of age, or perhaps sooner, where there is great maturity of character,
a young lady may be profited by being trusted with the whole of her
allowance, to spend at discretion; always, however, rendering an exact
account to her parents, at the end of the year.
Some may think such a system could be pursued only by the wealthy; but
it is no matter whether the quarterly allowance is fifty dollars, or
fifty cents--the principle is the same. The responsibility implied by
such trust gives children more self-respect, and self-command; it helps
them to remember how much they owe to the generosity of parents; and
checks their heedlessness in the expenditure of money. But its most
important use is in teaching them to be really benevolent. Children
who go to a parent and ask for things to give away, may know what
kind _impulses_ are, but they know nothing about real benevolence
of _principle_. True generosity is a willingness to deny ourselves
for the benefit of others--to give up something of our own, that we
really like, for the sake of doing good. If a child has a quarter
of a dollar a month to expend, and gives half of it to a poor sick
neighbor, instead of laying it up to buy a book, or a trinket, he knows
more of real benevolence, than could be taught by all the books and
maxims in the world. When you know of any such action, let a child see
that it increases your affection and respect. Do not let the hurry
of business, or the pressure of many cares, keep you from expressing
marked approbation. Human nature is weak, and temptation strong. Young
people need to be cheered onward in the path of goodness; and they
should never be disappointed in the innocent expectation of giving
pleasure to a parent. But do not praise them in the presence of others;
and do not say much about it, as if it were any great thing--merely
treat them with unusual affection and confidence. Do not compensate
their benevolence by making them presents. This will lead them into
temptation. It will no longer be self-denial in them to give; for they
will be sure they shall lose nothing in the end. They should learn to
take pleasure in losing their own gratifications for the benefit of
others.
One very good effect resulting from keeping an exact account of
expenses, had well nigh escaped my memory. Should your daughter ever
become a wife, this habit will enable her to conform more easily to her
husband’s income. A great deal of domestic bitterness has been produced
by a wife’s not knowing, or not thinking, how much she expends. Every
prudent man wishes to form some calculation about the expenses of his
family; and this he cannot do, if a wife keeps no accounts, or keeps
them irregularly.
In connexion with this subject, I would urge the vast importance of
a thorough knowledge of arithmetic among women. It is a study that
greatly tends to strengthen the mind, and produce careful habits of
thought; and no estate can be settled without it. In England and
France, it is no uncommon thing for the wife of a great manufacturer or
merchant to be his head clerk.
An American lady, now residing in Paris, is said to be an invaluable
partner to her wealthy husband, on account of her perfect knowledge
of his extensive business, and the exact and judicious manner in
which she conducts affairs during his absence. I do not wish to see
American women taking business out of the hands of men; but I wish
they were all _capable_ of doing business, or settling an estate, when
it is _necessary_. For this purpose, a very thorough knowledge of
book-keeping should be attained; both the old and the new system should
be learned. Nor should a general knowledge of the _laws_ connected with
the settlement of estates be neglected. Every young person ought to be
well acquainted with the contents of Sullivan’s Political Class-Book.
Many a widow and orphan has been cheated in consequence of ignorance on
these subjects.
Should your daughter never have an estate to settle, or business to
transact, her knowledge of arithmetic, book-keeping and penmanship may
be valuable to her as a means of support. I do think children should
be brought up with a dread of being dependent on the bounty of others.
Some young ladies think it a degradation to support themselves; and to
avoid it, they are willing to stay with any relation, who will furnish
them a home. This is not indulging a right spirit. We ought to be
resigned and cheerful in a dependent situation, when we cannot possibly
provide for ourselves; but a willingness to burthen others, when we
can help it by a little exertion, is not resignation--it is mere pride
and indolence. Next to a love of usefulness, knowledge should be
valued because it multiplies our resources in case of poverty. This
unwillingness to subsist on the bounty of others should not be taught
as a matter of pride, but of principle; it should proceed from an
unwillingness to take away the earnings of others, without rendering
some equivalent, and a reluctance to share what properly belongs to
the more unfortunate and needy. There is nothing selfish in this. It
springs from a real regard to the good of others.
I would make it an object so to educate children that they could, in
case of necessity, support themselves respectably. For this reason, if
a child discovered a decided talent for any accomplishment, I would
cultivate it, if my income would possibly allow it. Everything we add
to our knowledge, adds to our means of usefulness. If a girl have a
decided taste for drawing, for example, and it be encouraged, it is a
pleasant resource, which will make her home agreeable, and lessen the
desire for company and amusements; if she marry, it will enable her
to teach her children without the expense of a master; if she live
unmarried, she may gain a livelihood by teaching the art she at first
learned as a mere gratification of taste. The same thing may be said of
music and a variety of other things, not generally deemed _necessary_
in education. In all cases it is best that what is learned should be
learned well. In order to do this, good masters should be preferred to
cheap ones. Bad habits, once learned, are not easily corrected. It is
far better that children should learn one thing thoroughly, than many
things superficially. Make up your mind how much you can afford to
spend for one particular thing; and when you have decided that, spend
it as far as it will go in procuring really good teachers. I believe
this to be the best economy in the end. It is better to take twelve
lessons from a first rate French teacher, than to take a hundred from
one who does not know how to speak the language; because in the latter
case, bad habits of pronunciation will be learned, and probably never
corrected. The same thing is true of all kinds of knowledge, solid or
ornamental.
While speaking of acquirements, I would again urge the great necessity
of _persevering_ in whatever pursuits are commenced. Time, talent, and
money, are often shamefully wasted by learning a variety of things
imperfectly, because they prove more difficult than was at first
imagined; and what is worst of all, every individual instance of this
kind, strengthens the pernicious habit of being easily discouraged at
obstacles. A young lady should be very sure she knows her own mind
before she begins any pursuit; but when it is once begun, it should be
an unalterable law that she _must_ persevere.
Perhaps some parents of moderate fortune will ask if there is no
danger of unfitting girls for the duties of their station, and making
them discontented with their situation in life, by teaching them
accomplishments merely ornamental. For myself, I do not believe that
_any_ kind of knowledge ever unfitted a person for the discharge of
duty, _provided that knowledge was acquired from a right motive_. It
is wonderful what different results the same thing will produce, when
the motives are different. No matter what is learned, provided it be
acquired as a means of pleasing a parent, of becoming useful to others,
or of acquiring a necessary support. If you induce children to learn
any particular thing for the sake of showing off, or being as grand as
their neighbors, then, indeed, you _will_ unfit them for their duties,
and make them discontented with their situation. Looking to others
for our standard of happiness is the sure way to be miserable. Our
business is with our own hearts, and our own motives. When I say that a
decided talent for any pursuit should be encouraged, I do not mean that
every whim and caprice should be indulged. Mothers often talk about
giving their daughters a _taste_ for music, and a _taste_ for painting,
when in fact they only wish to excite in them a silly ambition to
have as many accomplishments to show off, as other girls have. The
consequence is, such families undertake to do a multitude of things,
and do nothing well. A good deal of money is spent to very little
purpose; for such young ladies do not really take _pleasure_ in their
employments; and if left destitute, they could not _teach_ what they do
not half understand.
My idea is this--First, be sure that children are familiar with all
the duties of their present situation; at the same time, by schools,
by reading, by conversation, give them as much _solid_ knowledge as
you can,--no matter how much, or of what kind,--it will come in use
some time or other; and lastly, if your circumstances are easy, and
you can afford to indulge your children in any matter of taste, do
it fearlessly, without any idea that it will unfit them for more
important duties. Neither learning nor accomplishments do any harm to
man or woman if the _motive_ for acquiring them be a proper one; on
the contrary, those who know most, are apt to perform their duties
best--provided the heart and the conscience have been educated as well
as the understanding. I believe a variety of knowledge (acquired from
such views as I have stated) would make a man a better servant, as
well as a better president; and make a woman a better wife, as well
as a better teacher. A selfish use of riches leads to avarice, pride,
and contempt of manual exertion; a selfish use of knowledge leads
to pedantry, affectation, unwillingness to conform to others, and
indolence in any pursuit not particularly pleasing to ourselves. But
the fault is not in the riches, or the knowledge--the difficulty lies
in the _selfish use_ of these advantages. If both were held in trust,
as a means of doing good, how different would be the result! For this
reason, I should never wish children to learn anything because some
of their companions were learning it. I would always offer present or
future _usefulness_ as a motive. For instance, if a daughter were very
desirous of learning music, I would ask her _why_ she desired it. If
she answered, or if I had reason to think, it was because some one
else was learning it, I would at once discountenance it, by telling
her the motive was a very poor one; but if she said she wished too
learn, because she loved it very much, I would readily enter into her
wishes, and promise to ask her father’s permission. If the request were
granted, I would say, ‘You know we are not rich enough to have good
music-masters for all of you; but your father is willing to expend more
upon you than he could otherwise afford, from the idea that you will
learn carefully and thoroughly, and thus be able to teach your brothers
and sisters. At some future time your music may perhaps be the means of
supporting yourself and doing good to others. You can likewise bring it
into immediate use; for you will very soon be able to amuse your father
in return for this kind indulgence.’
I have known young ladies, on whom a good deal had been expended,
who more than repaid their parents by their assistance in educating
younger branches of the family; and is not such a preparation likely to
make the duties of a mother more pleasant and familiar to them? In some
cases the acquirements and industry of one branch of the family have
served to educate and bring forward all the rest; is not such a power,
well-used, extremely conducive to kindness and benevolence?
It is certainly very desirable to fit children for the station they
are likely to fill, as far as a parent can judge what that station
will be. In this country, it is a difficult point to decide; for half
our people are in a totally different situation from what might have
been expected in their childhood. However, one maxim is as safe as
it is true--i. e. A well informed mind is the happiest and the most
useful in all situations. Every new acquirement is something added to
a solid capital. To imitate every passing fashion is a very different
thing from gaining knowledge. To thrum a few tunes upon a piano, and
paint a few gaudy flowers, does not deserve to be spoken of as a part
of _education_;--a fashionable scarf, or a bright ribbon, might as
well be called so. I would never have music, painting, &c., learned
at all, unless they could be learned perfectly, and practised with
real good taste; and here I would make the passing remark, that a
well-cultivated, _observing_ mind, is most likely to be tasteful in
all the lighter and more ornamental branches. The sure way to succeed
in anything is to cultivate the intellectual faculties, and keep the
powers of attention wide awake. If the mental faculties are kept
vigorous by constant use, they will excel in anything to which their
strength is applied. I think it is peculiarly unwise to sacrifice
comfort, benevolence, or the more solid branches of learning, to any
of the elegant arts; but when you can attain all these and a little
more, it is much better to spend the surplus in giving your children
a new pleasure, and an additional resource against poverty, than it
is to expend it in superfluous articles of dress, or furniture. The
same remarks that apply to music, drawing, &c., apply to a variety of
things, that may be acquired at little or no expence--such as braiding
straw, working muslin, doing rug-work, &c.--I would teach a child to
learn every innocent thing, which it is in her power to learn. If it
is not wanted immediately, it can be laid by for future use. I have
a strong partiality for those old-fashioned employments, marking and
rug-work. The formation of the figures, counting the threads, and
arranging the colors, require a great deal of care; and the necessity
of close attention is extremely salutary to young people.
Important as a love of reading is, there are cases where it ought to
be checked. It is mere selfishness and indolence to neglect active
duties for the sake of books; we have no right to do it. Children of
a languid and lazy temperament are sometimes willing to devote all
their time to reading, for the sake of avoiding bodily exertion; such
a tendency should be counteracted by endeavoring to interest them in
active duties and amusements. ‘Particular pains should be taken to
induce them to attend to the feelings of others. Whatever services and
attentions they exact from others, they should be obliged in their turn
to pay.’ Out of door exercise, frequent walks, and a lively attention
to the beauties of nature, are very beneficial to such dispositions.
On the contrary, those who have no love for quiet, mental pleasures,
should be attracted by interesting books and entertaining conversation.
A mother needs to be something of a philosopher.--In other, and better
words, she needs a great deal of practical good sense, and habits of
close observation.
With regard to what is called a _natural genius_ for any particular
employment, I think it should be fostered, wherever it is decidedly
shown; but great care should be taken to distinguish between a strong
natural bias and the sudden whims and caprices, to which companions, or
accidental circumstances, have given birth. No doubt each individual
has the gift to do some one particular thing better than others,
if he could but discover what that gift is. We all do best what we
strongly love to do. I believe the perfect and entire union of duty and
inclination in our employments constitutes genius. Men seldom become
very great in any pursuit they do not love with the whole heart and
soul; and since this is the way to arrive at the greatest perfection,
it is very desirable to find out the bias of character in early life.
This is not to be done by asking questions; but by quietly observing
what a child most delights in, and what he asks about most frequently
and eagerly.
With regard to lessons, reading, and work, the attention of children
should be kept awake by talking with them, asking questions on the
subject, and showing them the best and most convenient methods of doing
whatever they are about; but great care should be taken not to help
them too much. No more assistance than is absolutely necessary should
be given.--Leave them to their own ingenuity. Young people will always
be helpless, if they are not obliged to think and do for themselves.
With regard to the kind of books that are read, great precaution
should be used. No doubt the destiny of individuals has very often
been decided by volumes accidentally picked up and eagerly devoured at
a period of life when every new impression is powerful and abiding.
For this reason, parents, or some guardian friends, should carefully
examine every volume they put into the hands of young people. In doing
this, the disposition and character of the child should be considered.
If a bold, ambitious boy is dazzled by the trappings of war, and you do
not wish to indulge his disposition to be a soldier, avoid placing in
his way fascinating biographies of military heroes; for the same reason
do not strengthen a restless, roving tendency by accounts of remarkable
voyages and adventures. I do not mean to speak disparagingly of Voyages
and Travels; I consider them the best and most attractive books in the
world; I merely suggest a caution against strengthening any dangerous
bias of character.
A calm, steady temperament may be safely indulged in reading works
of imagination,--nay, perhaps requires such excitement to rouse it
sufficiently,--but an excitable, romantic disposition should be
indulged sparingly in such reading. To forbid all works of fiction
cannot do good. There is an age when all mortals, of any sense or
feeling, are naturally romantic and imaginative. This state of feeling,
instead of being violently wrestled with, should be carefully guided
and restrained, by reading only the purest and most eloquent works
of fiction. The admirable and unfortunate Lady Russell, in a letter,
written on the anniversary of her husband’s execution, says, ‘At
such seasons I do not _contend_ with frail nature, but _keep her as
innocent as I can_.’ This rule may be wisely applied to that period of
life when young people, from the excess of mental energy, and the riot
of unwearied fancy, are most bewitched to read novels.
Never countenance by word or example that silly affected sensibility
which leads people to faint or run away at the sight of danger or
distress. If such a habit is formed, try to conquer it by reasoning,
and by direct appeals to good feeling. Nothing can be more selfish than
to run away from those who are suffering, merely because the sight is
painful. True sensibility leads us to overcome our own feelings for the
good of others.
Great caution should be used with regard to the habits of talking in a
family. Talk of _things_ rather than of _persons_, lest your children
early imbibe a love of gossipping. Particularly avoid the habit of
speaking ill of others. We acquire great quickness of perception in
those things to which we give attention in early life; and if we have
been in the habit of dwelling on the defects of others, we shall not
only be ill-natured in our feelings, but we shall actually have the
faculty of perceiving blemishes much more readily than virtues. This
tendency always to look on the black side is a very unfortunate habit,
and may often be traced to the influences around us in childhood.
Some people fly to the opposite extreme. From the idea of being
charitable, they gloss over everything, and make no distinction between
vice and virtue. This is false charity. We should not speak well of
what we do not believe to be good and true. We may avoid saying
anything of persons, unless we can speak well of them; but when we are
_obliged_ to discuss a subject, we should never in the least degree
palliate and excuse what we know to be wrong.
It is a great mistake to think that education is _finished_ when
young people leave school. Education is never finished. Half the
character is formed after we cease to learn lessons from books; and at
that active and eager age it is formed with a rapidity and strength
absolutely startling to think of. Do you ask what forms it? I answer
the every-day conversation they hear, the habits they witness, and the
people they are taught to respect. Sentiments thrown out in jest, or
carelessness, and perhaps forgotten by the speaker as soon as uttered,
often sink deeply into the youthful mind, and have a powerful influence
on future character. This is true in very early childhood; and it is
peculiarly true at the period when youth is just ripening into manhood.
Employ what teachers we may, the influences at home _will_ have the
mightiest influences in education. School masters may cultivate the
_intellect_; but the things said and done at home are busy agents in
forming the _affections_; and the latter have infinitely more important
consequences than the former.
A knowledge of domestic duties is beyond all price to a woman. Every
one ought to know how to sew, and knit, and mend, and cook, and
superintend a household. In every situation of life, high or low, this
sort of knowledge is a great advantage. There is no necessity that
the gaining of such information should interfere with intellectual
acquirement, or even with elegant accomplishments. A well regulated
mind can find time to attend to all. When a girl is nine or ten
years old, she should be accustomed to take some regular share in
household duties, and to feel responsible for the manner in which it
is done,--such as doing her own mending and making, washing the cups
and putting them in place, cleaning the silver, dusting the parlor, &c.
This should not be done occasionally, and neglected whenever she finds
it convenient; she should consider it her department. When they are
older than twelve, girls should begin to take turns in superintending
the household, keeping an account of weekly expenses, cooking puddings,
pies, cake, &c. To learn anything effectually, they should actually
do these things themselves,--not stand by, and see others do them.
It is a great mistake in mothers to make such slaves of themselves,
rather than divide their cares with daughters. A variety of employment,
and a feeling of trust and responsibility, add very much to the real
happiness of young people. All who have observed human nature closely
will agree that a vast deal depends upon how people deport themselves
the first year after their marriage. If any little dissensions arise
during that period,--if fretfulness and repining be indulged on one
side, indifference and dislike on the other will surely follow,--and
when this once takes place, farewell to all hopes of perfect domestic
love. People may indeed agree to live peaceably and respectably
together,--but the charm is broken--the best and dearest gift God
gives to mortals is lost. Nothing can ever supply the place of that
spontaneous tenderness, that boundless sympathy of soul, which has
been so thoughtlessly destroyed. ‘Beware of the first quarrel,’ is
the best advice that was ever given to married people. Now I would
ask any reflecting mother, whether a girl brought up in ignorance of
household duties, is not very likely to fret, when she is first obliged
to attend to them? Will not her want of practice decidedly interfere
with the domestic comfort of her family, and will it not likewise be a
very serious trial to her own temper? I have known many instances where
young married women have been perplexed, discouraged, and miserable,
under a sense of domestic cares, which, being so entirely new to them,
seemed absolutely insupportable. The spirit of complaint to which this
naturally gives rise is not very complimentary to the husband; and it
is not wonderful if he becomes dissatisfied with a wife, whom he cannot
render happy.
Young girls learn many mischievous lessons from their companions at
school. Among a mass of young ladies collected from all sorts of
families, there will of course be much vanity, frivolity, and deceit,
and some indecency. The utmost watchfulness of a teacher cannot prevent
some bad influences. For this reason, I should myself decidedly prefer
instructing a daughter in my own house; but I am aware that in most
families this course would be expensive and inconvenient. However, I
would never trust a young girl at a boarding school without being sure
that her room-mate was discreet, well-principled, and candid. I should
rather have a daughter’s mind a little less improved, than to have her
heart exposed to corrupt influences; for this reason, I should prefer
a respectable school in the country to a fashionable one in the city.
For the same reason, I should greatly dread a young lady’s making long
visits from home, unless I had perfect confidence in every member
of the family she visited, and in every person to whom they would be
likely to introduce her. There is no calculating the mischief that
is done by the chance acquaintances picked up in this way. If there
are sons in the families visited, the danger is still greater. I do
not, of course, allude to any immorality of conduct; I should hope
girls even tolerably educated would never be guilty of anything like
immodesty. But young ladies, ignorant of the world and its vices, often
do imprudent things without knowing them to be imprudent. If they have
strong and enthusiastic affections, even their innocent frankness will
in all probability be misconstrued by those who are not themselves
pure and open-hearted. At all events, the frequent intercourse likely
to exist between a visitor and the brothers of her friend is extremely
apt to fill her head with a diseased anxiety for the admiration of the
other sex, and with silly, romantic ideas about love--ideas which have
no foundation in reason, nature, or common sense. Many unhappy matches
have been the result of placing young people under the influence of
such sentimental excitement, before they were old enough to know
their own minds. Such unions are often dignified with the name of
_love_-matches; but love has nothing to do with the business--fancy,
vanity, or passion is the agent; and vanity is by far the most busy
of the three. To call such thoughtless connexions _love_-matches is
a libel upon the deepest, holiest, and most thoughtful of all the
passions.
In this country, girls are often left to themselves at the very period
when, above all others, they need a mother’s care. In France, mothers
always visit with their daughters; and if restraint upon unmarried
people is carried to excess there, we certainly err on the opposite
extreme. We allow too much freedom, and we allow it too soon. I believe
it is much better for a very young lady never to go about alone, or
visit for any length of time from home, without her mother.
Youth must have friends, and those friends, being loved ardently,
will have prodigious influence. The choice requires extreme caution.
The whole of human destiny is often materially affected by those with
whom we are intimate at fourteen or fifteen years of age. The safest
method is not to put children in the way of those whom you dare not
trust. Do not expressly forbid an acquaintance, (unless great faults
of character demand such restrictions,) but endeavor by every possible
means to withdraw your child from society you deem improper; occupy
her with other things, and interest her in other persons. If an
intimacy does spring up, notwithstanding your precautions, talk openly
and reasonably about it; and let your daughter understand that you
decidedly object to something in the young lady’s principles, manners,
or habits. Wealth and station should never be spoken of as either for
or against forming a friendship; the generous mind of youth never
thinks of these artificial distinctions, and we certainly do wrong to
teach them. Your chief safety lies in the manner in which you have
educated your daughter. If her mind, heart, and conscience have all
been cultivated, she will not love to associate with the ignorant, the
vulgar, and the vicious; she will naturally seek the well-informed,
the well-principled, and the truly refined, because she will have most
sympathy with them.
A mother has an undoubted right to inspect her children’s letters, as
well as the books they read; and if a young lady feels this to be any
hardship, there is certainly something wrong, in one or other of the
parties. Where young people are habitually discreet, it is not well
to exercise this right very often; but children should always feel
perfectly willing that letters may be opened, or not, at a parent’s
option. But parents, on their part, must consider that this entire
confidence cannot naturally and reasonably be expected to exist, unless
they evince perfect good-nature, and a lively sympathy with youthful
feeling. Perfect confidence between parent and child is a seven-fold
shield against temptation.
There is one subject, on which I am very anxious to say a great deal;
but on which, for obvious reasons, I can say very little. Judging by
my own observation, I believe it to be the greatest evil now existing
in education. I mean the want of confidence between mothers and
daughters on delicate subjects. Children, from books, and from their
own observation, soon have their curiosity excited on such subjects;
this is perfectly natural and innocent, and if frankly met by a mother,
it would never do harm. But on these occasions it is customary either
to put young people off with lies, or still further to excite their
curiosity by mystery and embarrassment. Information being refused them
at the only proper source, they immediately have recourse to domestics,
or immodest school-companions; and very often their young minds are
polluted with filthy anecdotes of vice and vulgarity. This ought not
to be. Mothers are the only proper persons to convey such knowledge to
a child’s mind. They can do it without throwing the slightest stain
upon youthful purity; and it is an imperious duty that they should do
it. A girl who receives her first ideas on these subjects from the
shameless stories and indecent jokes of vulgar associates, has in fact
prostituted her mind by familiarity with vice. A diseased curiosity
is excited, and undue importance given to subjects, which those she
has been taught to respect think it necessary to envelope in so much
mystery; she learns to think a great deal about them, and to ask a
great many questions. This does not spring from any natural impurity;
the same restless curiosity would be excited by any subject treated in
the same manner. On the contrary, a well-educated girl of twelve years
old, would be perfectly satisfied with a frank, rational explanation
from a mother. It would set her mind at rest upon the subject; and
instinctive modesty would prevent her recurring to it unnecessarily, or
making it a theme of conversation with others. Mothers are strangely
averse to encouraging this sort of confidence. I know not why it
is, but they are usually the very last persons in the world to whom
daughters think of applying in these cases. Many a young lady has
fallen a victim to consumption from a mother’s bashfulness in imparting
necessary precautions; and many, oh, many more, have had their minds
corrupted beyond all cure.
I would not by any means be understood to approve of frequent
conversations of this kind between parent and child--and least of all,
anything like jesting, or double meanings. I never saw but two women,
who indulged in such kind of mirth before their daughters; and I never
think of them but with unmingled disgust. I do believe that after one
modest and rational explanation, the natural purity and timidity of
youth would check a disposition to talk much about it.
It is usually thought necessary, even by the very conscientious, to
tell falsehoods about such subjects; but I believe it cannot do good,
and may do harm. I would say to a young child, ‘I cannot tell you now,
because you are not old enough to understand it. When you are old
enough, I will talk with you; but you must remember not to ask anybody
but me. You know I always have a reason for what I say to you; and I
tell you it would be very improper to talk with other people about it.
I promise you that I will explain it all to you, as soon as you are old
enough to understand it.’
This promise ought to be faithfully kept; and if young people meet with
anything in books that requires explanation, they should be taught to
apply to their mother, and to no one else. Such a course would, I am
very sure, prevent a great deal of impurity and imprudence.
It is a bad plan for young girls to sleep with nursery maids, unless
you have the utmost confidence in the good principles and modesty of
your domestics. There is a strong love among vulgar people of telling
secrets, and talking on forbidden subjects. From a large proportion of
domestics this danger is so great, that I apprehend a prudent mother
will very rarely, under any circumstances, place her daughter in the
same sleeping apartment with a domestic, until her character is so
much formed, that her own dignity will lead her to reject all improper
conversation. A well-principled, amiable elder sister is a great
safeguard to a girl’s purity of thought and propriety of behavior. It
is extremely important that warm-hearted, imprudent youth, should have
a safe and interesting companion. A judicious mother can do a vast deal
toward supplying this want; but those who have such a shield as a good
sister are doubly blessed.
In the chapter on politeness I have mentioned how much little
courtesies and kind attentions tend to strengthen the bonds of family
love; and I firmly believe that these things, small as they may appear
singly and separately, are of very great importance. Everything which
ties the heart to home, has a good influence. Brothers and sisters
cannot be too much encouraged in perfect kindness and candor toward
each other. Any slight rudeness, a want of consideration for each
other’s feelings, or of attention to each other’s comfort, should be
treated with quite as much importance as similar offences against
strangers. The habit of putting on politeness to go abroad, and of
throwing it off at home, does more moral mischief than we are apt to
imagine. I know families, conscientious in all _great_ things, who yet
think it no harm to peep into each other’s letters, or use each other’s
property without permission; yet I look upon these things as absolutely
unprincipled; they are positive infringements of the golden rule.
If one member of a family have any peculiarity, or personal defect, he
should be treated with unusual delicacy and affection. The best way
to cure any defect is to treat persons in such a mariner, that they
themselves forget it. Perpetual consciousness of any disagreeable
peculiarity increases the evil prodigiously. This is particularly true
of physical imperfections; stuttering and lisping, for instance, are
made ten times worse by being laughed at, or observed. It is the fear
of exciting remark that makes people stutter so much worse before
strangers than in the presence of their friends.
Parents are too apt to show a preference for the smartest or prettiest
of the family. This is exactly the reverse of right. Those who are the
least attractive abroad should be the most fostered at home; otherwise
they may become chilled and discouraged; and the talents and good
qualities they have, may die away in the secrecy of their own bosoms,
for want of something to call them into exercise.
The business of parents is to develope each individual character so
as to produce the greatest amount of usefulness and happiness. It
is very selfish to bestow the most attention upon those who are the
most pleasing, or most likely to do credit to a parent in the eyes
of the world. Those who are painfully diffident of themselves should
be treated with distinguished regard; they should be consulted on
interesting subjects, and when their opinions are injudicious, they
should be met by open and manly arguments, and never treated with any
degree of contempt or indifference.
To have the various members of a family feel a common interest, as if
they were all portions of the same body, is extremely desirable. It
is a beautiful sight to see sisters willing to devote their talents
and industry to the education of brothers, or a brother willing to
deny himself selfish gratifications for a sister’s improvement, or a
parent’s comfort. Little respectful attentions to a parent tend very
much to produce this delightful domestic sympathy. Nothing is more
graceful than children employed in placing a father’s arm-chair and
slippers, or busying themselves in making everything look cheerful
against his return; and there is something more than mere looks
concerned in these becoming attentions--these trifling things lay
the foundation of strong and deeply virtuous feelings. The vices and
temptations of the world have little danger for those who can recollect
beloved parents and a happy home. The holy and purifying influence is
carried through life, and descends to bless and encourage succeeding
generations. For this reason, too much cannot be done to produce an
earnest and confiding friendship between parents and children. Mothers
should take every opportunity to excite love, gratitude and respect,
toward a father. His virtues and his kindness should be a favorite
theme, when talking with his children. The same rule that applies to a
wife, in these respects, of course applies to a husband. It should be
the business of each to strengthen the bonds of domestic union.
Every effort should be made to make home as pleasant as possible.
The habit of taking turns to read interesting books aloud, while
the others are at work, is an excellent plan. Music has likewise a
cheerful influence, and greatly tends to produce refinement of taste.
It has a very salutary effect for whole families to unite in singing
before retiring to rest; or at any other time, when it is pleasant and
convenient. On such occasions, I think there should be at least one
simple tune in which the little children can join without injury to
their young voices. I believe the power of learning to sing is much
more general than has hitherto been believed; and the more subjects
there are in which the different members of a family can sympathize,
the greater will be their harmony and love.
It will probably be gathered from what I have said in the preceding
pages, that I do not approve of young ladies’ visiting very
young,--that is, being what is called _brought out_, or _going into
company_. I think those parents whose situation does not make it
necessary to have their daughters _brought out_ at all, are peculiarly
blest; and under all circumstances, I am sure it is best for a daughter
never to visit without her mother, till she is past seventeen years
of age. A round of gayety is alike fascinating and unprofitable; it
wastes time, distracts attention, and makes every-day duties and
pleasures appear dull and uninteresting. Late hours, excitement, and
irregularity of food, make large demands upon health and strength,
before the constitution is fully established; the mind and heart too,
as well as the body, become old before their time; there is nothing
new in store for the young imagination, and society loses its charm
at the very age when it would naturally be most enjoyed. I do not
believe it is _ever_ well for girls to go into many large parties;
the manners can be sufficiently formed by social intercourse with the
polite and intelligent. I greatly approve of social visiting among
children and young persons. It is alike beneficial to the heart and the
manners. I only wish that mothers more generally _made one_ of these
little parties. In general, girls think they must have an apartment
to themselves when they receive visiters, or they must run off into
the garden, or upstairs, because a mother’s presence is an unpleasant
restraint. This ought not to be. If married ladies will be familiar
and cheerful, they can be extremely entertaining, as well as useful to
the young. I wish this sort of companionship were more general--for
I am certain it has a good influence. If a mother shows an obliging
readiness to enter into the plans and amusements of her children,
and their young guests, they will feel no painful restraint in her
presence; while at the same time she removes from them all temptation
to frivolous and improper conversation. I have known instances where
a mother was the most animated and animating of all the little group.
Would such instances were more frequent! It is impossible to calculate
the benefits that result from having a _happy home_.
From the beginning to the end of this book, I have most earnestly
represented the necessity of forming early habits of observation. It
is a strong foundation, on which any kind of character may be built,
as circumstances require. It makes good writers, good painters,
good botanists, good mechanics, good cooks, good housewives, good
farmers--good everything! It fits as for any situation in which
Providence may place us, and enables us to make the most of whatever
advantages may come in our way. It is a sort of vital principle, that
gives life to everything.
Not fifty miles from Boston is a farmer, quite famous for the
improvements he has made in the wild grape. He found a vine in the
wood, which dozens of his neighbors passed every week, as well as
he; but he _observed_ that where the oxen fed upon the vine the
grapes where largest and sweetest. He took the hint. The vine was
transplanted, and closely pruned. This produced the same effect as
browsing had done; the nourishment, that in a wild state supported a
great weight of vines and tendrils, went entirely to the body of the
grape. His neighbors would have known this as well as he, if they had
thought about it; but they did not _observe_.
In ancient Greece the beneficial effect of closely trimming grape-vines
was discovered by _observing_ the extreme luxuriance of a vine,
which an ass had frequently nibbled as he fed by the way-side. The
man who availed himself of this hint, became celebrated throughout
Greece, by means of the far-famed grapes of Nauplia; and, with less
justice, statues were erected to the ass, and high honors paid to his
memory. The grape had never been cultivated in this country, when, by
a singular coincidence, an observing American farmer made the same
discovery, and by the same means, that gave celebrity to the observing
Grecian farmer, in very ancient times.
Even in infancy, the foundation of this important habit should be
begun, by directing the attention to the size, shape, color, &c., of
whatever objects are presented. In childhood it should be constantly
kept alive, by never allowing anything to be read, or done, carelessly;
and during the teens, when the mind is all alive and busy, very
peculiar care should be taken to strengthen and confirm it. A young
lady should never be satisfied with getting through with a thing some
how or other; she should know _how_ she has done it, _why_ she has
done it, and what is the _best way_ of doing it. She should use her
thoughts in all her employments. There is always a best way of doing
everything; and however trifling the occupation, this way should be
discovered; in making a shirt, for instance, she should be led to
observe that it is much more convenient to put in the sleeves before
the collar is set on. It is the want of these habits of observation,
which makes some people so left-handed and awkward about everything
they undertake.
There is another subject quite as important--I mean _habits of
reflection_. Young people should be accustomed to look into their own
hearts, to be very sure what motives they act from, and what feelings
they indulge. Parents can assist them very much, by seizing favorable
opportunities to talk with them about what they have done, and what
were their motives of action. It is a good maxim ‘every morning to
think what we have to do, and every evening to think what we have
done.’ The close of the year is a peculiarly appropriate time for
self-examination. Each member of the family should be encouraged at
this interesting season, to think what improvements have been made, and
what evils have been conquered during the year.
* * * * *
One subject of great importance had nearly escaped my recollection. I
mean the early habit of writing letters neatly and correctly. There
are a hundred cases where a young person’s success in life may be
affected by the appearance of their epistles. A letter badly written,
badly spelt, or badly punctuated, is a direct and abiding proof of
a neglected education, or a disorderly mind. The receipt of such a
document often makes an unfavorable impression with regard to an
individual’s character, or capacity, which is never afterward entirely
obliterated. For this reason, children should early be accustomed to
give a natural and simple account, in writing, of what they have seen
and done. The rules of punctuation, which are few and plain, should
be particularly attended to; and any awkwardness or inelegance in
the sentences should be kindly pointed out, but never ridiculed. If
parents, from want of early education, feel unable to do this, they
will, in all probability, know of some near relation, or intimate
friend, who will occasionally attend to it. The great thing is to
make children _desirous_ of improvement; and this can be done by an
uneducated parent, as well as by a learned one. When a strong _wish_
to excel in any particular thing is once excited, there is no danger
but it will find means to satisfy itself; and this is one reason why we
should be more careful what we teach children to _love_, than what we
teach them to _remember_.
CHAPTER XI.
VIEWS OF MATRIMONY.
There is no subject connected with education which has so important
a bearing on human happiness as the views young people are taught to
entertain with regard to matrimonial connexions. The dreams of silly
romance, half vanity, and half passion, on the one hand, and selfish
calculation on the other, leave but precious little of just thinking
and right feeling on the subject. The greatest and most prevailing
error in education consists in making lovers a subject of such
engrossing and disproportionate interest in the minds of young girls.
As soon as they can walk alone, they are called ‘little sweet-heart,’
and ‘little wife;’ as they grow older, the boyish liking of a neighbor,
or school-mate, becomes a favorite jest; they often hear it said how
lucky such and such people are, because they ‘_married off_’ all their
family so young; and when a pretty, attractive girl is mentioned, they
are in the habit of hearing it observed, ‘She will be married young.
She is too handsome and too interesting to live single long.’
I have frequently said that such sort of accidental remarks do in fact
_educate_ children, more than direct maxims; and this applies with
peculiar force to the subject of matrimony. Such observations as I have
quoted, give young girls the idea that there is something degrading
in not being married young; or, at least, in not having had offers of
marriage. This induces a kind of silly pride and restless vanity, which
too often ends in ill-assorted connexions. I had a sweet young friend,
with a most warm and generous heart, but a giddy, romantic brain. Her
mother was weak-minded and indulgent, and had herself been taught, in
early life, to consider it the chief end and aim of existence to get
married. She often reminded her daughters, that she was but sixteen
when she was married, and had then refused two or three lovers. Of
course, when my charming, sentimental little friend was sixteen, she
began to feel uneasy under a sense of disgrace; her pride was concerned
in having a beau as early as her mother had one; and this feeling
was a good deal strengthened by the engagement of two or three young
companions. It unluckily happened that a dashing, worthless young man
was introduced to her about this time. A flirtation began, which soon
ended in an offer of his hand. He said he was in good business, and
she saw that he wore a handsome coat, and drove a superb horse; and,
more than all, she thought what a triumph it would be to be engaged at
sixteen. She married him. It was soon discovered that he was careless,
dissipated, and very poor. In no respect whatever had he sympathy with
my sensitive, refined, but ill-educated friend. She discovered this
too late. She would have discovered it at first, had her mind been
_quiet_ on the subject of matrimony. A wretched life might have been
spared her, if her mother had left her heart to develope naturally,
under the influences of true affection, as the lily opens its petals
to the sunshine. Her marriage was called a _love-match_; and as such
was held up by ambitious parents as a salutary warning. But there never
was a greater misnomer. She had not a particle of love for the man.
She married him because he happened to be the first that offered, and
because she felt ashamed not to be engaged as soon as her companions.
But heedless vanity and silly romance, though a prolific source of
unhappy marriages, are not so disastrous in their effects as worldly
ambition, and selfish calculation. I never knew a marriage expressly
for money, that did not end unhappily. Yet managing mothers, and
heartless daughters, are continually playing the same unlucky game. I
look upon it as something more than bad policy for people to marry
those to whom they are, at best, perfectly indifferent, merely for the
sake of wealth; in my view it is absolutely unprincipled. Happiness
cannot result from such connexions, because it ought not. A mother
who can deliberately advise a daughter thus to throw away all chance
of domestic bliss, would, were it not for the fear of public opinion,
be willing to sell her to the Grand Sultan, to grace his seraglio.
Disguise the matter as we may, with the softening epithets of ‘prudent
match,’ ‘a good establishment,’ &c., it is, in honest truth, a matter
of bargain and sale.
I believe men more frequently marry for love, than women; because they
have a freer choice. I am afraid to conjecture how large a proportion
of women marry because they think they shall not have a better chance,
and dread being dependent. Such marriages, no doubt, sometimes prove
tolerably comfortable; but great numbers would have been far happier
single. If I may judge by my own observation of such matches, marrying
for a home is a most tiresome way of getting a living.
One of the worst effects resulting from _managing_ about these things,
is the disappointment and fancied disgrace attendant upon a failure;
and with the most artful manœuvring, failures in such schemes are very
frequent. Human policy sketches beautiful patterns, but she is a bad
weaver; she always entangles her own web. I am acquainted with two or
three managing mothers, who have pretty children; and in the whole
circle of my acquaintance, I know of none so unfortunate in disposing
of their daughters. The young ladies would have married very well,
if they had not been taught to act a part; now, they will either
live single, or form ill-assorted, unhappy connexions. If they live
single, they will probably be ill-natured and envious through life;
because they have been taught to attach so much importance to the mere
circumstance of getting married, without any reference to genuine
affection. A woman of well-regulated feelings and an active mind, may
be very happy in single life,--far happier than she could be made
by a marriage of expediency. The reason old maids are proverbially
more discontented than old bachelors, is, that they have generally so
much less to occupy their thoughts. For this reason, it is peculiarly
important, that a woman’s education should furnish her with abundant
resources for employment and amusement. I do not say that an unmarried
woman can be as happy as one who forms, with proper views and feelings,
a union, which is unquestionably the most blessed of all human
relations; but I am very certain that one properly educated need not be
unhappy in single life.
The great difficulty at the present day is, that matrimony is made
a subject of pride, vanity, or expediency; whereas it ought to be a
matter of free choice and honest preference. A woman educated with
proper views on the subject could not be excessively troubled at not
being married, when in fact she had never seen a person for whom she
entertained particular affection; but one taught to regard it as a
matter of pride, is inevitably wretched, discontented, and envious,
under the prospect of being an old maid, though she regards no human
being with anything like love.
Some mothers are always talking about the cares, and duties, and
sacrifices incident to married life; they are always urging their
daughters to ‘enjoy themselves while they are single’--‘to be happy
while they have a chance,’--but at the same time that they give such
a gloomy picture of domestic life, (making it a frightful bugbear to
the young imagination,) they urge upon them the necessity of getting
married for respectability’s sake. They _must_ be ‘well settled,’ as
the phrase is. The victim must be sacrificed, because the world’s
opinion demands it.
I once heard a girl, accustomed to such remarks, say, with apparent
sincerity, ‘I should like of all things to be married, if I could be
sure my husband would die in a fortnight; then I should avoid the
_disgrace_ of being an old maid, and get rid of the restraint and
trouble of married life.’ Strange and unnatural as such a sentiment may
appear, it was just what might have been expected from one accustomed
to such selfish views of a relation so holy and blessed in its nature.
It is all-important that charming pictures of domestic life should be
presented to the young. It should be described as,--what it really
is,--the home of woman’s affections, and her pleasantest sphere of
duty. Your daughter should never hear her own marriage speculated or
jested upon; but the subject in general should be associated in her
mind with everything pure, bright, and cheerful.
I shall be asked if I do not think it extremely desirable that
daughters should marry well; and whether the secluded, domestic
education I have recommended is not very unfavorable to the completion
of such wishes,--for how can they be admired, when they are not
seen? It certainly is very desirable that daughters should marry
well, because it wonderfully increases their chance of happiness. The
unchangeable laws of God have made reciprocated affection necessary to
the human heart; and marriage formed with proper views is a powerful
means of improving our better nature. But I would not say, or do
anything, to promote a union of this sort. I would have no scheming, no
managing, no hinting. I would never talk with girls about the beaux, or
suffer them to associate with those who did. I would leave everything
to nature and Divine Providence--with a full belief that such reliance
would do more and better for me than I could effect by my own plans. I
do not think a secluded, domestic education is unfavorable to chances
of happy matrimonial connexions. A girl with a good heart, a full mind,
and modest, refined manners, cannot fail to be attractive. Make her a
delightful companion to her own family; teach her to be happy at home;
and trust Divine Providence to find her a suitable partner. If she
has been taught to think the regulation of her own heart and mind of
greater importance than anything else, she cannot be unhappy whatever
may be her lot in life; and her chance for a happy marriage will be
abundantly greater than it could be made by the most adroit management.
It is evident that the greatest safeguard against improper attachments
consists in the character you have given your daughter, by the manner
of educating her. A refined young lady will not naturally be in love
with vulgarity; nor will a pure mind have any sympathy with the vicious
and unprincipled. But as vice often wears the garb of virtue, and
as youth is, from its very innocence, unsuspecting, it is incumbent
upon parents to be extremely careful with what sort of young men they
allow their daughters to associate. Acquaintance with any particular
person should not be expressly forbidden, because such restraint is
likely to excite the very interest you wish to avoid; but, without
saying anything on the subject, do not encourage your daughter in going
to places where she will meet a fascinating young man, to whom you
have decided objections; and if you discover the smallest symptoms of
mutual interest between the parties, remove her from home, if possible,
to some place where her mind will soon become interested in new
occupations. A prudent parent will always remember that it is extremely
natural for young people to get deeply interested in those they see
frequently; and that it is far easier, and better, to prevent an
attachment, than it is to conquer it after it is formed. I would never,
even by the most trifling expression, lead my daughter to think of
her acquaintances as future lovers; but I should myself recollect the
possibility of such a circumstance, and would not therefore encourage
an acquaintance with any man, whom I should be very unwilling to see
her husband. ‘An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.’
In affairs of this kind strong opposition is very impolitic. It rarely
effects its purpose; and if it does, it is through much misery and
trouble. I doubt whether parents have a right to forbid the marriage
of their children, after they are old enough to think and decide for
themselves; but while they are quite young, I do think they have an
undoubted right to prevent marriage, until the laws of the land render
them free from parental authority. But where this is done, it should be
with great mildness and discretion: it should be resorted to only from
a desire to leave young people a perfect freedom of choice, at an age
when they are more capable of feeling deeply and judging wisely.
Where there is any immorality of character, it becomes an imperative
duty for parents to forbid an engagement while the parties are young.
If it is persisted in, after they are old enough to be as discreet as
they ever will be, there is no help for it; but I do not believe one,
whose heart and mind had been properly educated, would ever persist in
such a course.
The three great questions to be asked in deciding whether a union is
suitable and desirable, is, 1st, Has the person good principles? 2d,
Has he, or she, a good disposition? 3d, Is there a strong, decided,
deeply-founded preference? Connexions which are likely to lead a woman
into a sphere of life to which she has been unaccustomed, to introduce
her to new and arduous duties,--and to form a violent contrast to her
previous mode of life,--should not be entered into, except at mature
age, and with great certainty that affection is strong enough to endure
such trials. But where there is deep, well founded love, and an humble
reliance on Divine Providence, all things will work right in the end.
CONCLUDING CHAPTER.
It has been jestingly said, that ‘they who have no children, always
know how to manage them well;’ and the assertion is sustained by the
fact that nearly all books on education have been written by those who
never were parents. This was the case with Locke, Edgeworth, Hamilton,
and Barbauld. If their wise words are less valuable on this account,
what plea can I urge for my own imperfect suggestions? Childless
myself, I can only plead my strong love for children, and my habitual
observation of all that concerns them. I offer this little book in all
humility, happy in the conviction that it inculcates no evil, if it
does not attain to the highest truths.
It was published fourteen years ago, and is now republished at the
request of a few friends. Were I to write it now, it would not be
precisely as it is; but on comparing this stereotyped record with my
present views, I find that I have not _changed_, I have only _grown_.
On one subject, this growth has sufficiently modified my opinions, to
make some recantation necessary; I mean on the subject of punishment.
I have, throughout the work, alluded to whipping as sometimes, and to
a moderate degree, necessary. I now believe otherwise. Such measures
may, of course, secure a more prompt obedience, by exciting fear; but I
believe this can never be done without injury to the child.
I have a very judicious friend, the mother of a fine family. With her
first two children, she acted upon the commonly received idea that
it was sometimes necessary to slap them, when they were naughty. She
observed, however, that this never failed to excite some degree of
resentment, and more or less diverted their attention from the wrong
they had done, to the injury they suffered. With her younger children,
she discontinued whipping, and substituted milder forms of punishment,
such as shutting them up in a room by themselves, making them go to bed
supperless, &c. This excited their evil feelings less; but, in some
degree, this likewise turned their attention from their own fault to
the punishment inflicted. The accusation, which should have fallen with
its whole weight on themselves, was partially bestowed on the parent.
Something of resistance and rebellion was always roused, though its
outward manifestation might be restrained by the fear of additional
punishment. My friend was a wise woman, and she knew that it was far
better to avoid contests with her children, than to come off victorious
in them. The less the combative principle is roused into activity,
before reason and conscience are mature enough to regulate it, the
better. Habits of the mind, whether good or bad, are strengthened in
this way, as the muscles of a gold-beater’s arm grow stout by constant
use. If a child is of an obstinate temper, it is therefore better
to treat any little matter of difference lightly, than to rouse his
besetting sin by compulsory efforts to subdue him. It is better to keep
his obstinacy as quiescent as possible, till he is old enough to be
reasoned with, and thus taught to employ his perseverance for worthy
and noble ends.
Acting upon this principle of not arousing evil feelings, if possible
to avoid it, my friend resolved to try, with her youngest girl, the
effect of sorrow instead of penalty. She was very volatile, and her
mother had many doubts whether the experiment would prove successful.
The first time she tried it was on the occasion of visiting a relative.
The child was extremely desirous to accompany her parents, but was told
that it was unsuitable for her to be out so late as they intended to
stay. Habitual firmness had taught her that teasing was of no avail;
and she soon gave up the effort. At parting, her mother bade her be a
good girl, and go quietly to bed at eight o’clock, and in the morning
she should hear all about the visit. At ten o’clock, her parents
returned, and seated themselves at the parlor fire, chatting over the
events of the evening. Presently, they heard a timid, half-suppressed
giggle; and, looking round, they saw little Mary peeping from under
the table. ‘My daughter, how is it that you are not in bed?’ said her
mother, calmly. The little rogue stole forth from her hiding-place, and
looked very sheepish, as she answered, ‘Why, mother, I wanted to sit up
till you came back.’ ‘But I told you to go to bed at eight. My little
daughter knows she has done very wrong.’ The culprit stood a while in
perplexity. She expected to be ordered instantly to bed, or at least to
be reproved. But her parents went on talking with each other, as if she
were not in the room; and at last, she hesitatingly drew up her little
stool, and seated herself at her mother’s side. After a while, she
plucked up courage to ask about the visit. Who was there? Did anybody
say anything about me? &c. Her mother answered all her questions, very
kindly, though somewhat sadly. At length, she said, ‘Mother, I think it
is time for me to go to bed.’ ‘Well, Mary. Let me unpin your clothes.
It is bright moonlight, and you will need no lamp. Do not waken
Elizabeth.’
The child lingered and hesitated, and at last said, ‘May I kiss you and
father?’ They drew her toward them, imprinted a kiss on her lips, and
bade her an affectionate good night.
After she had gone, they queried with each other whether this mode of
treatment would make her think lightly of her fault, and more prone
to be disobedient in future. She was such a frolicksome, thoughtless
child, that they were not without fears that it might be so. They were
even doubtful whether she noticed the sadness of their tones, when they
kissed her and bade her good night; for she went away smiling, and
tripped lightly up stairs. But when her mother retired for the night,
she had scarcely placed her head on the pillow, before she heard little
bare feet padding across the entry floor; and a moment after, a little
curly head was on her bosom, sobbing out, ‘Oh, mother dear, I can’t
go to sleep. Forgive me. I know I did very wrong.’ Sweet moments of
reconciliation passed between parents and child in the still moonlight;
and then the little one went to her pillow, and slept as the lambs
sleep.
The perfect kindness with which she had been treated, while she
felt that her parents were grieved by her conduct, left no work for
her heart to do, but to accuse herself; and only by confession and
repentance could she be at peace.
Whether such a course would always produce similar results, I will
not venture to say; but every day of my life I become more and more
convinced of the omnipotence of love in subduing all evil. It is
indeed absolutely necessary that gentleness should be united with
uncompromising firmness. Children should never be allowed to gain their
point, in opposition to any rule that has been established for them.
To be at once gentle and unyielding, requires a strong effort. Hence,
many people, who dislike severity, fall into the opposite extreme of
injudicious indulgence; and their example is often quoted in favor of
the old-fashioned rigidity of discipline.
Whipping is, however, coming more and more into disrepute; and before
long, no wise parent will practise it, or allow his child to attend a
school where it is practised. To attain the difficult habit of being
both mild and firm, of studying in all things the permanent good of
the child, rather than present convenience to self, requires a humble
and self-denying spirit. The moral atmosphere which emanates from a
parent’s habitual state of mind greatly affects the children. If they
are quiet, gentle, and refined, it will be reflected in the habits and
manners of the family. If they are rough, impatient, or noisy, the
children will be little bedlamites, however much good advice they may
give, in opposition to their own example.
It is impossible to exaggerate the importance of the spiritual
atmosphere of home; of the thousand little things done and said
without calculation of results; of the daily and hourly emanations from
our own characters. It has been beautifully said,
‘Education does not commence with the alphabet. It begins with a
mother’s look--with a father’s nod of approbation, or a sigh of
reproof--with a sister’s gentle pressure of the hand, or a brother’s
noble act of forbearance--with handfuls of flowers in green and daisy
meadows--with birds’ nests admired but not touched--with creeping
ants and almost imperceptible emmets--with humming bees and glass
bee-hives--with pleasant walks in shady lanes--and with thoughts
directed, in sweet and kindly words, to nature, to beauty, to acts of
benevolence, to deeds of all virtue, and to the source of all good, to
God himself.’
Is not our Heavenly Father kind to entrust to our care these little
innocent souls, that we ourselves may enter his kingdom, by the
prayerful effort to keep them forever near their guardian angels?
PUBLISHED BY C. S. FRANCIS & CO., NEW-YORK.
Writings of L. Maria Child.
PHILOTHEA: A GRECIAN ROMANCE.
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in the history of Athens.
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THE MOTHER’S BOOK.
New Edition--Revised and Amended.
The value and usefulness of this little book is well known,--it having
passed through eight editions in this country and twelve in England.
_Contents of the Chapters._--I. On the means of developing the
bodily senses in earliest infancy.--II. Early development of the
affections.--III. Early cultivation of intellect.--IV. Management in
childhood.--V. Amusements and employments.--VI. Sunday. Religion.
Views of Death. Supernatural appearances.--VII. Advice concerning
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Beauty. Dress. Gentility.--X. Management during the teens.--XI. Views
of Matrimony.--Concluding observations.
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Transcriber’s Notes
Errors in punctuation have been fixed.
Page 72: “satfactorily” changed to “satisfactorily”
Page 92: “that Cinderilla” changed to “that Cinderella” “therfore it
cannot” changed to “therefore it cannot”
In the ads, “combin the requisite” changed to “combine the requisite”