_Indirect Instructions: we should not be too urgent with Children._
I think we should often make use of _indirect_ instructions, which are
not so tedious and uninteresting as lessons and remonstrances, in order
to excite their attention to certain examples which are placed before
them.
A person may sometimes ask another, in their presence, "Why do you
do so"--and the other may answer--"I do it for such a reason." For
example--"Why did you confess your fault?" "Because I should have been
guilty of a much greater one by disavowing it with a lye"--and because
nothing is more praiseworthy than to say frankly, "I am wrong." Then the
first person should commend the one who has thus accused herself--but
care must be taken that all this be done without art or affectation, for
children have much more penetration than we are aware of--and as soon as
they discover any finesse in their teachers, they lose that simplicity
and confidence which is natural to their character.
We have before observed that the brain of children, from being at the
same time moist and warm, produces continual motion. This softness or
pliancy of the brain causes impressions to be easily made, and images
of every sensible object to be vividly and strongly imprinted; hence
we should be anxious to engrave, as it were, on their minds such
characters as are easily formed. But great care must be shewn in the
selection of such objects as we wish to impress: for in so small and
precious a cabinet, none but the most exquisite furniture should be
admitted. Let it be remembered, that at such a tender age, no knowledge
should be engrafted but such as we wish to remain there for life.
The first impressions that are made, when the brain is so soft and
susceptible, are in general the most durable; and in proportion as age
hardens the brain, do such impressions become indelible. Hence it is,
that in old age we remember distinctly the images of youth, however
remote; whereas as age advances we have a fainter recollection of such
things as we progressively behold, because the impression has been made
on the brain when it is gradually hardening, and filled with other
images.
Although we understand how to reason in this manner, we have some
difficulty in acceding to it: and yet we absolutely do make use of this
very mode of reasoning. For instance, do we not say every day, "My
habits are fixed, I am too old to change them, I have been brought up
in this way."--Moreover are we not conscious of a singular pleasure
in recalling to mind the images of youth? are not the strongest
propensities formed at that age? Does not, therefore, all this prove
that the first impressions and first habits are the strongest? If
infancy be the fittest period for engraving such images on the brain,
it must be allowed that it is the least so for the cultivation of
reason. That ductility of the brain which causes impressions to be
easily formed, being united with extreme heat, produces an agitation
which sets all regular application at defiance.
The brain of children may be compared to a lighted wax taper, situated
in a place which is exposed to the wind--its flame is perpetually
flickering. A child asks you a question, and before you can answer, its
eyes are directed towards the cieling: it counts all the figures that
are carved there, or all the bits of glass which compose the window: if
you wish to bring it back to the first subject of discussion, you vex
it as much as if you confined it in prison. Thus great care is required
in managing the organs before they assume a determined inclination:
answer every question promptly, and leave the child to put others as
it pleases. Gratify only the curiosity which it evinces, and lay up in
the memory a mass of sound materials. The time will come, when these
impressions will be regularly arranged, and the brain having more
consistency, the child will reason on the consequences. Nevertheless, be
attentive to correct when the reasoning is fallacious; and to convince
it, without embarrassment, as an opportunity offers, in what a wrong
consequence consists.
Let a child amuse itself freely, and mingle instruction with amusement:
let wisdom be introduced at proper intervals, and under an agreeable
form; and take care not to fatigue it by a precision which is both
formal and injudicious.
If a child entertains sad and dismal notions of virtue, if liberty and
irregularity present themselves in a seducing manner, every thing is
lost, and your labour is in vain. Never suffer it to be flattered by
little contemptible associates, or people without character or worth: we
naturally love the manners and sentiments of those whom we regard; and
the pleasure which is sometimes taken in the company of disreputable
people, begets, by degrees, a love of those pernicious habits which
renders _them_ so truly contemptible.
In order to conciliate children to people of real estimable character,
make them reflect on their excellence and utility, their sincerity,
their modesty, their disinterestedness, their fidelity, their discretion,
but above all their _piety_, which is the foundation of the rest.
If a child has any thing about it revolting or offensive, you must
observe to it that "piety does not produce such defects: when it is
perfect, it destroys, or at least softens them." But, after all, we
must not persist in making children admire certain pious characters
whose exterior deportment is disgusting.
Although you are particularly anxious to regulate your own conduct with
the utmost circumspection and nicety, do not imagine that children will
fancy you faultless: oftentimes your slightest imperfections will be
noticed by them.
St. Austin informs us that he had remarked, from his infancy, the vanity
of his tutors. The best and most politic thing you can do, is, to know
your own faults as completely as a child will know them, and to request
some real friend to warn you of them. The generality of instructors
pardon nothing in a pupil, but every thing in themselves: this excites
an inquisitive and watchful spirit of malignity in such pupils--so that
whenever they detect any fault in their tutor, they are delighted, and
eventually despise him.
Shun this error: do not be afraid to mention the faults which are
visible in your conduct, and which may have escaped you before the
child. If you find her capable of reasoning thereupon, observe that you
set her an example of correcting her faults, by the detection of your
own--by this means, your imperfections will be instrumental in edifying
the child, and encouraging her to correct herself. You will also thereby
avoid the contempt and disgust which your own faults may cause her to
entertain against your person.
Meanwhile, try every method to make those things agreeable which you
exact from a child. Have you any thing crabbed or difficult to propose?
convince her that this pain will be succeeded by pleasure: always shew
the utility which results from your instructions; and make her sensible
of the consequences as affecting mankind, and the different orders of
society. Without this, all study will appear as a dry, barren, and thorny
path. "Of what use," will children sometimes say to themselves, "is it
to learn those things which do not relate to ordinary conversation, and
which have no immediate connection with what we are _obliged_ to do?"
We should therefore give them a reason for every thing we teach--"It is,
we should observe, to enable you one day to do well in the world--it is
to form your judgment, and to make you reason well on all the affairs of
life." We should always represent to them some useful and solid _end_,
which may support them in their application: and never pretend to keep
them in subjection by a crabbed and absolute authority.
In proportion as their reason advances, we should discuss with them on
the necessity of education; not that we should implicitly follow their
thoughts, but profit by them when they discover their real state of
mind: so that we may try their discernment, and make them relish those
things we are anxious for them to learn.
Never assume, without urgent necessity, an austere and imperious
manner, which only causes children to tremble, and savours strongly
of affectation and pedantry in those who govern: children are, for the
greater part, timid and diffident. By such means you shut out all access
to the heart, and deprive them of a confidence, without which no benefit
can be derived from instruction. Make yourself beloved: let them be
free with you, so that they fear nothing in discovering their faults.
In order to attain this, be indulgent to those who do not disguise
themselves before you. Appear neither astonished nor irritated at
their bad propensities: on the contrary, bear with their foibles. This
inconvenience may, however, sometimes arise, that they will be less
intimidated; but, taking all things together, confidence and sincerity
is of far greater utility than a rigorous discipline.
Besides, authority will lose its proper effect, if confidence and
persuasion are not equally strong. Always commence with an open and
candid manner; be cheerful and familiar without vulgarity, which enables
you to see children conduct themselves in a perfectly natural state, and
to know their inmost character. If even you should succeed in all your
plans by the force of authority alone, you will not gain the proper end:
you will disgust them in their search after goodness, of which you ought
solely to endeavour to inspire them with admiration.
If the wisest man has recommended parents to hold the rod continually
over the heads of their children, if he has said that a father who
"spareth his child" will repent it hereafter--it does not follow that
he has censured a mild and lenient mode of education. He only condemns
those weak and inconsiderate parents who flatter the passions of their
children, and who only strive to divert them in their infancy, so that
they are guilty of all sorts of excess. The proper conclusion seems to
be that parents ought to preserve authority sufficient for correction;
for there are some dispositions which require to be subdued by fear
alone; but let it be remembered that this should never be enforced
unless every other expedient has been previously applied.
A child who merely follows the capricious impulse of imagination, and
who confounds every thing which presents itself to her mind, detests
application and virtue, because she has taken a prejudice against the
person who speaks to her concerning them.
Hence arises that dismal and frightful idea of religion, which she
preserves all her life: and which, alas! is often the only wretched
remnant of a severe system of education. We must frequently tolerate
many things which are deserving of immediate punishment, and wait for
the opportunity when the feelings of a child dispose it to profit by
correction.
Never rebuke a child in the first moments of passion, whether on your
side or hers. If on yours, she will perceive that, you conduct yourself
according to caprice and resentment, and not according to reason and
affection: you will, in consequence, irretrievably lose your authority.
If you correct in the first gust of her passion, her mind is not
sufficiently collected to confess her fault, to conquer her feelings,
and to acknowledge the importance of your advice: such a mode may even
hazard your pupil's respect for you. Always let the child see you are
mistress of your own feelings; and nothing can effect this so much
as _patience_. Watch every moment, each day, when correction may be
well-timed. Never tell her of a fault, without, at the same time,
suggesting some mode of redressing it, which will induce her to put it
in practice; for nothing is more to be avoided than that chagrin and
discouragement which are the consequence of mere formal correction. If a
child is discovered to be a little rational, I think you should win it
insensibly to _wish_ to have its faults disclosed, as this would be the
way of making it sensible of them, without causing affliction: never,
however, recount too many faults at a time.
We should consider that children have a tender intellect, that their
age makes them susceptible chiefly of pleasure, and that we often
expect from them a correctness and seriousness of deportment, which
their instructors are sometimes incapable of evincing. A very dangerous
impression of _ennui_ and sadness is produced on their mind, by
perpetually talking to them of words and things which they do not
understand: no liberty, no amusement! always lesson, silence,
constraint, correction, and threats!
Our ancient forefathers knew better. It was by the charm of verses and
music that the Hebrews, Egyptians, and Greeks, introduced the principal
sciences, the maxims of virtue, and the politeness of manners. Without
reading, people scarcely believe these things, so distant are they from
present custom! nevertheless, little as history is known, there is
not a doubt but that this was the common practice for many centuries.
However, let us so far correct our own age, as to unite the agreeable
and the useful together, as much as lay in our power.
But although we can hardly hope to lay aside _awe_ with the generality
of children, whose dispositions are headstrong and untractable, we
should, nevertheless, not have recourse to it without having patiently
tried every other experiment. We should even make them distinctly
understand the extent of our demands, allowing a certain medium with
which we should be satisfied: for good-humour and confidence should be
their natural disposition--otherwise we damp their spirit, and daunt
their courage: if they are lively, we irritate; if dull, we stupify
them.--Fear may be compared to violent remedies employed in extreme
cases--they purge, but they alter the temperament, and reduce the organs
to extremity. A mind governed by fear, is generally the weaker for it.
We should not always menace without chastising, for fear of rendering
menace of no avail; but we should menace more frequently than we
chastise. As to chastisement, the pain inflicted ought to be as slight
as possible--but accompanied with every circumstance which can prick the
child with shame and remorse. For example, shew her every thing you
have done to avoid coming to this unpleasant extremity--appear to be
even affected at it--speak to her, in the presence of others, of the
melancholy state of those whose want of reason and good conduct have
forced correction upon them; and keep back the ordinary marks of
reconciliation, till you see she stands in need of consolation. This
chastisement may be either public or private, as it may benefit the
child--either in covering her with shame, or shewing her how she has
been spared such a mortification--a _public_ exposition should, however,
never be resorted to but in the last extremity. It may be as well
sometimes to make use of a rational person to perform the office of
mediator--who might console the child, and mention such things which
would be improper for yourself to do--who might cure her of false
shame, and induce her to come to you for reconciliation--and to whom the
child, in the emotions of her heart, would open herself more freely than
she would dare to do to yourself. Above all, let it be manifest that you
never exact from a child more than necessary submission: endeavour to
effect it so that she may pass her own condemnation, and that you have
little else to do but assuage the anguish she has herself inflicted.
General rules ought to be adopted as particular occasions may justify:
men, and especially children, do not always resemble themselves--that
which is good to-day, may be bad to-morrow; a conduct stubbornly uniform
can never be advantageous.
The fewer formal lessons that are inculcated, the better. A thousand
modes of instruction may be adopted in the freedom of conversation,
more useful than lessons themselves. I have known many children who
have learnt to read during their play; we need only relate to them some
diverting story from a book opened in their presence, and make them
insensibly become acquainted with their letters; after this, they will
themselves be anxious to arrive at the source which has afforded them
such amusement.
There are two circumstances which spoil every thing; namely, teaching
them at first to read in a foreign tongue[3]--which takes away all
pleasure in reading; and making them read with a forced and ridiculous
emphasis. Give them a book handsomely bound, with neat cuts, and printed
with a fine type; every thing which delights the fancy, facilitates
study: we should even let them have a book full of short and marvellous
stories. After this, do not be uneasy about the child's learning to
read--do not fatigue her by requiring too great a precision; let her
pronounce naturally as she speaks: other tones are always bad, and
partake of the declamation of the stage. When the tongue has acquired
sufficient volubility, the chest strength, and the habit of reading been
confirmed, she will then read without pain, and with more grace and
distinctness.
[3] Fenelon says the _Latin_ tongue: but this is not practised in
England.
The manner of teaching to write should be pretty nearly the same. When
children can read a little, one may amuse them in making them sort the
letters; and if there are several pupils, emulation may be kindled.
Children are naturally inclined to make figures on paper; and if this
propensity be encouraged, without teasing them too much, they will form
letters during their play, and accustom themselves by degrees to write.
One may also encourage them by the promise of a reward adapted to their
taste, and which has no unpleasant consequences.
"Write me a note," you may say, "inform your brother or cousin of
such and such things:" all this (varied as you like) pleases a
child, provided that no sad idea of a formal lesson intrude. "A free
curiosity," says St. Austin, from his own experience, "excites the
mental faculties of a child, much more than the formality of rules,
or a constraint imposed by fear."
Observe this grand defect in ordinary educations--all pleasure is placed
on one side, and pain on the other: the latter is attached to study, the
former to play. What then can be expected from a child, but that, in
supporting one of these maxims, she will eagerly fly to her amusements?
Let us try to invert this order: let us make study agreeable, concealing
it under the form of liberty and pleasure: the dull routine of continued
application may be sometimes broken in upon by little sallies of
amusement. Children require these relaxations to preserve the elasticity
of their mind.
Let their imaginations roam a little. Permit occasionally some game or
diversion, so that ample bounds be given to their spirits; then bring
them gently back again to the principal object you have in view. Too
rigid or too long continued an application to study, is productive
of much injury: those who affect this regularity, act more from the
convenience of stated hours of discipline, than from wishing to seize
every favourable moment of instruction. At the same time, do not
suffer any amusement which may agitate the passions of children: on
the contrary, every thing which can unbend their faculties, produce an
agreeable variety, satisfy a curiosity for useful things, and exercise
their body in healthful recreations, should be recommended and practiced
in their diversions. The amusements which they like best, are those
that keep the body in motion; they are happy if they can but skip from
place to place: a shuttle-cock or a ball is sufficient. We should not,
however, be uneasy about their diversions; they invent quite enough
themselves--it is sufficient if we leave them to their own inventions,
watch them with a cheerful countenance, and moderate them when they
become too violent. It would be prudent just to make them sensible, as
much and as often as we can, of the pleasure which results from the
cultivation of the _mind_; such as conversation, news, histories, and
many industrious games which include instruction. All this will have
its proper effect in due time: but we should not force the feelings of
children on this subject; we should only make overtures to them. The
period will arrive when their bodies will be inclined to move less, and
their minds, more.
The care which is taken to season study with amusement, will operate
favourably in abating the ardour of youth for dangerous diversions. It
is subjection and _ennui_ that beget an impatience for amusement. If a
daughter felt less restraint in the presence of a mother, she would not
be so anxious to steal away in search of indifferent society.
In choosing diversions, care must be taken to avoid all suspicious
companions. Boys must not mingle with girls; even girls of an unruly
and froward disposition must be rejected. Games which excite passion,
and thoughtlessness, or which produce an improper attitude of the
body--frequent visiting abroad, and conversations which give rise to
such visits--should be uniformly avoided. When a child is not spoilt
by any rude diversion, or is not stimulated by any ardent passion, it
will easily find pleasure and content: health and innocence are the
sure sources of both: but those who have been accustomed to violent
amusements, lose all relish for moderate pleasure, and weary themselves
in a restless search after happiness.
There may be a satiated taste for amusements, as well as for food: one
may be so accustomed to high-seasoned dishes, that a simple and common
diet will become flat and insipid. Let us, therefore, be on our guard
against those violent exercises, which in the end produce _ennui_ and
disgust: above all, they are to be particularly dreaded in regard to
_children_; who are less capable in suppressing their feelings, and
who wish to be in perpetual motion. Let us manage them so as to excite
a taste for simple things: that great preparations of food be not
necessary for their nourishment, nor violent diversions for their
amusement. A moderate fare always creates a sufficient appetite,
without being obliged to pamper it with _made dishes_, which produce
intemperance. "Temperance," says an ancient writer, "is the best
contriver of luxury: with this temperance, which begets health of body
and mind, one always enjoys a soft and tranquil emotion--there is no
need of trick or public shew, or expense, to make one happy: some little
diversion, or reading, or labor--a walk, or innocent conversation, which
relaxes after toil--all or any of these produce a purer delight than is
felt from the most exquisite music."
It is true, simple pleasures are less lively and interesting than
violent ones, which elevate the soul, and affect all the sources of
passion. But simple pleasures have a better tendency; they produce an
equal and lasting joy, without any bitter consequence. They are always
of real service, whereas violent ones may be compared to adulterated
wine, which pleases at first, but which eventually injures the health.
The very temperament of the soul, as well as the taste, is affected by
seeking after such violent and seductive pleasures. All that you can do
for children who are under your regulation is, to accustom them to such
a simple life as has been just described; to fortify them in such habits
as long as you can, to make them foresee the evil consequences attached
to other amusements, and not to abandon them to _themselves_; as is too
commonly the case, at an age when their passions begin to be shewn, and
when, consequently, they stand in need of greater restraint.
It must be allowed, that of all the vexations incidental to education,
none can be compared with that which is experienced in the rearing of
a _stupid_ child. Those who have strong lively natural capacities are,
indeed, liable to terrible irregularities--passion and presumption
master them entirely; but, on the other hand, they have great resources,
and may be easily checked, however turbulent. Education is, in them,
a concealed but vegetating germe, which sometimes bears fruit when
experience comes to the aid of reason, and when the passions begin to
cool. At least we know how to make them attentive, and awaken their
curiosity: they have something in them which makes them take an interest
in their lessons, and stimulates their sense of honour--whereas one has
no sort of pleasure or gratification in the instruction of _stupid_
children. All their thoughts are distracted: they are never where they
ought to be: the most poignant correction has no effect on them: they
hear every thing, and feel nothing. This indolence and stupidity makes
a child negligent and disgusted with every thing she does. She is
in such a case, that the _best mode_ of education runs a risk of
miscarrying, if we do not guard against the evil, from earliest infancy.
Many people who have little depth of penetration, conclude, from this
bad success, that nature does _every thing_ in the formation of men of
merit, and education _nothing_--instead of remarking that there are
dispositions, like barren soils, on which cultivation produces little.
It is yet more lamentable when these knotty systems of education have
been thwarted or neglected, or badly regulated at the beginning.
We must not forget that there are many dispositions among children, in
which we are likely to be deceived. They appear at first interesting,
because there is attached to early youth a certain fascinating lustre
which covers every thing: we, at first, perceive nothing but what is
tender and amiable, and this prevents a closer examination of the
features of the mind. Every sally of their wit surprises us, because we
do not expect it at such an age: every error in judgment is permitted,
and it has, moreover, the charm of ingenuity: they assume a certain
vivacity of deportment, which never fails to pass for sprightliness and
intellect. Hence it is, that childhood often promises much, but realises
little. Such a one was celebrated for her wit at five years of age, but
now, in proportion to her growth, she has fallen into obscurity and
contempt! Of all the qualities which children possess, there is but
one on which you can calculate with certainty, and that is, _good
sense_: this "grows with their growth," provided it be well cultivated.
The graces of infancy fade away--its vivacity diminishes--and that
tenderness of heart even becomes blunted, in proportion as the passions
and an intercourse with designing men harden young people on their
entrance into the world. Strive, therefore, to discover midst the graces
of childhood, whether the disposition you have to manage be deficient
in curiosity, and insensible of honest emulation. If this should be the
case, it is almost impossible for every one concerned in her tuition,
not to be disgusted with so rugged and ungrateful an occupation. Every
qualification of a child should be roused and brought into action, in
order to extricate it from so fatal a lethargy. If, however, you foresee
any such consequences about to follow, do not at first be anxious to
urge any serious application: take care not to overcharge her memory,
for it is that which stuns and stupifies the brain: do not harass her
with unpleasant regulations: make her as cheerful as you can, because
she labours under the opposite extreme of presumption: do not be afraid
of shewing her, with discretion, the extent of her powers: be satisfied
with little at a time: make her remark the smallest success: shew her
how absurd it is to be afraid of not succeeding in that which she really
does well: set her emulation to work. Jealousy is more violent among
children than we are aware of: we often see some who are absolutely
fretting and wearing away, because others are more beloved and caressed
than themselves. Mothers are often cruel enough to fan this jealous
flame, which, however, is of service in extreme cases of indolence and
stupidity--but then you should set before the child the examples of
those who are but _very little_ superior--for disproportionate examples
of those who are greatly superior, serve only to discourage and dismay.
Let her, occasionally, gain some little victories over those of whom
she is jealous: make her, if you can, laugh heartily with yourself at
her timidity: and set before her those, equally timid with herself, who
have conquered their disposition to fear: make her sensible, by indirect
instructions, and the example of others, that timidity and idleness
destroy all the mental energies; but be careful not to give these
instructions in an austere and impetuous manner: nothing wounds the
inmost feelings of a mild and timid child so much as boisterous
treatment: on the contrary, let the application which becomes
indispensible, be seasoned and relieved by such little circumstances of
amusement and recreation as are suited to her disposition. Perhaps it
will be sometimes necessary to check her by reproaches; but this should
not be done by yourself: employ some inferior person, or another child,
without appearing yourself to be acquainted with it.
St. Austin relates, that his mother was once reproached by a servant
for drinking pure wine; an ill habit which she had contracted from her
infancy, and of which she was cured by the servant's reproach, though
all the vehemence and severity of her governess was unable to effect it.
In short one should endeavour to excite _a taste_ in the minds of such
sort of children, in like manner as one tries to excite it in the palate
of those who are sick. _They_ are permitted to have any thing which may
cure their loathing; they are indulged in many whims at the expence of
certain prescribed rules, provided it be not carried to a dangerous
excess. It is much more arduous to create a taste in those that are
void of one, than to regulate the taste of those who have not a correct
one.
There is another kind of sensibility extremely difficult and important
to impress them with, and that is, _friendship_. As soon as a child is
susceptible of it, there can be no doubt but that you should turn her
heart towards those who may be useful to her. Friendship will give her
every accomplishment that you desire; you have then a certain tie on
her, if you know how to regulate it: excess, or a bad choice, are the
only things you have to dread. There are, however, some children who are
born cunning, reserved, and callous, and who bring every thing home, as
it were, to their own bosoms: they deceive their parents, whom fondness
has made credulous: they _appear_ to love them: they regulate their
inclinations to conform to them: they _seem_ more docile than other
children of the same age, who indulge, without restraint, in all their
humours and follies: their suppleness, or rather hypocrisy, which
conceals a savage temper, assumes a softness of character; and their
real disposition does not discover itself till it is too late to reform
it.
If there really be any child on whom education is incapable of producing
a good effect, it is one of the foregoing description; and it must
be allowed that the number is greater than we imagine. Parents bring
themselves with difficulty to believe that their children have a bad
heart: when they shut their _own eyes_ upon them, no other person will
have the courage to convince them of it; and thus the evil is hourly
augmenting. The principal remedy is, to place children, from their
earliest infancy, in such a situation where their tempers may be
discovered without disguise. Always know the very bottom of their heart,
before you correct them. They are naturally simple and open; but as soon
as you plague them, or give them an example of disguise, they will no
longer return to their original simplicity. It is true, that a good
and tender-hearted disposition comes from God alone; _we_ can only
endeavour to excite it by generous examples, by maxims of honour and
disinterestedness, and by a contempt of those people who set too high a
value on themselves. We must endeavour to make children betimes sensible
of the most natural modes of conduct, and of the pleasure arising from
a cordial, and reciprocal friendship. Nothing so much conduces to this
end, as an intercourse with people who have nothing about them harsh,
severe, low, or selfish: children might better associate with those who
have other faults, than with those who possess the foregoing ones. We
should praise them for every thing they do on the score of friendship,
provided it be not misplaced or too violent. Parents must likewise
appear to them to be animated with the sincerest friendship towards
them; for children oftentimes learn of their parents to have no
affection for any one object. In short I would check, before friends,
all superfluous compliments, all artificial demonstrations of esteem,
and all feigned caresses: for by these things you teach them a great
deal of deceit towards those whom they ought to regard.
There is a very common fault among girls, the opposite to what we have
been mentioning; namely, the affecting to be uncommonly struck and
delighted with the most insignificant things. They cannot see two people
who are both equally bad, without taking the part, in their hearts, of
one against the other. They are full either of affection or aversion,
without the least cause: they perceive no defect in what they esteem,
and no one good quality in what they despise. You must not, at first,
make a formidable opposition to all this--for contradiction will only
fortify them in their vagaries: but observe, by degrees, to a young
girl, that you know better than herself what good there is in that
which she likes, and what evil in that which she detests. Take care
also, occasionally, to make her sensible of certain defects which are
sometimes found in the object of her regard, and of certain good
qualities which are discernible in that of her hatred: do not be too
urgent: press her not too much, and you will find that she will come
to herself, and coincide with your sentiments. After which, make her
reflect on her past caprices, and the most unreasonable circumstances
attending them: tell her, gently, that she will by and bye see those
of which she is not yet cured, when they cease to act. Recount to her
similar errors of _your own_ when you was of her age. Above all, shew
her as clearly, and as sensibly as you can, that good and evil are
inherent in every object of our love and aversion: this will repress
her ardour in the indulgence of either the one or the other.
Never promise children, by way of reward, fine clothes or dainties; this
has two direct evils attending it: the first will teach them to set
a value on what they ought to despise; the second deprives you of an
opportunity of establishing _other_ rewards which would facilitate your
labour. Be on your guard against threatening them to make them study, or
subjecting them to any formal rule. Make as few rules as possible: and
when there is an absolute necessity for one, make it pass lightly under
the child's notice, without giving it such a name; and always give some
reason why a thing is done at one time and in one place, rather than
in another. You run a risk of disheartening children if they are not
praised when they have done well. Praise may sometimes be apprehended on
account of its exciting vanity; but it should nevertheless be employed
to animate, not to intoxicate, children.
We find that St. Paul has often made use of it, in encouraging the weak,
and in softening his reproaches. The Fathers have also made the same use
of it. It is true, that to make it serviceable, it must be so tempered
that it take away all exaggeration, and flattery, and that the good
resulting from it be attributed to God alone, as the source. Children
may be recompensed by innocent and industrious games; by walks and
recreations, in which conversation may take a useful turn: by little
presents which may be a kind of prize--as pictures, prints, medals, maps
of geography, or gilt books.