Our senses are the first powers perfected in us. They are the first that should be cultivated and the only ones forgotten, or at least, the most neglected.
To exercise the senses is not merely to use them, but to learn how to judge correctly by means of them; we may say, to learn how to feel. For we cannot feel, or hear, or see, otherwise than as we have been taught.
There is a kind of exercise, purely natural and mechanical, that renders the body robust without injuring the mind. Of this description are swimming, running, leaping, spinning tops, and throwing stones. All these are well enough; but have we nothing but arms and legs? Have we not eyes and ears as well? and are they of no use while the others are employed? Use, then, not only your bodily strength, but all the senses which direct it. Make as much of each as possible, and verify the impressions of one by those of another. Measure, count, weigh, and compare. Use no strength till after you have calculated the resistance it will meet. Be careful to estimate the effect before you use the means. Interest the child in never making any useless or inadequate trials of strength. If you accustom him to forecast the effect of every movement, and to correct his errors by experience, is it not certain that the more he does the better his judgment will be?
If the lever he uses in moving a heavy weight be too long, he will expend too much motion; if too short, he will not have power enough. Experience will teach him to choose one exactly suitable. Such practical knowledge, then, is not beyond his years. If he wishes to carry a burden exactly as heavy as his strength will bear, without the test of first lifting it, must he not estimate its weight by the eye? If he understands comparing masses of the same material but of different size, let him choose between masses of the same size but of different material. This will oblige him to compare them as to specific gravity. I have seen a well-educated young man who, until he had tried the experiment, would not believe that a pail full of large chips weighs less than it does when full of water.
The Sense of Touch.
We have not equal control of all our senses. One of them, the sense of touch, is in continual action so long as we are awake. Diffused over the entire surface of the body, it serves as a perpetual sentinel to warn us of what is likely to harm us. By the constant use of this sense, voluntary or otherwise, we gain our earliest experience. It therefore stands less in need of special cultivation. We observe however, that the blind have a more delicate and accurate touch than we, because, not having sight to guide them, they depend upon touch for the judgments we form with the aid of sight. Why then do we not train ourselves to walk, like them, in the dark, to recognize by the touch all bodies we can reach, to judge of objects around us, in short, to do by night and in the dark all they do in daytime without eyesight? So long as the sun shines, we have the advantage of them; but they can guide us in darkness. We are blind during half our life-time, with this difference, that the really blind can always guide themselves, whereas we dare not take a step in the dead of night. You may remind me that we have artificial light. What! must we always use machines? Who can insure their being always at hand when we need them? For my part, I prefer that Émile, instead of keeping his eyes in a chandler's shop, should have them at the ends of his fingers.
As much as possible, let him be accustomed to play about at night. This advice is more important than it would seem. For men, and sometimes for animals, night has naturally its terrors. Rarely do wisdom, or wit, or courage, free us from paying tribute to these terrors. I have seen reasoners, free-thinkers, philosophers, soldiers, who were utterly fearless in broad daylight, tremble like women at the rustle of leaves by night. Such terrors are supposed to be the result of nursery tales. The real cause is the same thing which makes the deaf distrustful, and the lower classes superstitious; and that is, ignorance of objects and events around us.
The cause of the evil, once found, suggests the remedy. In everything, habit benumbs the imagination; new objects alone quicken it again. Every-day objects keep active not the imagination, but the memory; whence the saying "Ab assuetis non fit passio."[[22]] For only the imagination can set on fire our passions. If, therefore, you wish to cure any one of the fear of darkness, do not reason with him. Take him into the dark often, and you may be sure that will do him more good than philosophical arguments. When at work on the roofs of houses, slaters do not feel their heads swim; and those accustomed to darkness do not fear it at all.
There will be one advantage of our plays in the dark. But if you mean them to be successful, you must make them as gay as possible. Darkness is of all things the most gloomy; so do not shut your child up in a dungeon. When he goes into the dark make him laugh; when he leaves it make him laugh again; and all the time he is there, let the thought of what he is enjoying, and what he will find there when he returns, protect him from the shadowy terrors which might otherwise inhabit it.
I have heard some propose to teach children not to be afraid at night, by surprising them. This is a bad plan, and its effect is contrary to the one sought: it only makes them more timid than before. Neither reason nor habit can accustom us to a present danger, the nature and extent of which we do not know, nor can they lessen our dread of unexpected things however often we meet with them. But how can we guard our pupil against such accidents? I think the following is the best plan. I will tell my Émile, "If any one attacks you at night, you are justified in defending yourself; for your assailant gives you no notice whether he means to hurt you or only to frighten you. As he has taken you at a disadvantage, seize him boldly, no matter what he may seem to be. Hold him fast, and if he offers any resistance, hit him hard and often. Whatever he may say or do, never let go until you know exactly who he is. The explanation will probably show you that there is nothing to be afraid of; and if you treat a practical joker in this way, he will not be likely to try the same thing again."