The mother's book

by Lydia Maria Child

If a child abuse any good thing, it is well to take it from him, and make him feel the want of it. Thus if he abuse your confidence, do not trust him again for some time. But if he is really repentant, restore it to him; and when you do trust him, trust him entirely. Allusions to former faults have a disheartening effect, particularly on sensitive, affectionate children.

Above all things, never suffer a child to be accused of a fault, until you are perfectly sure he has been guilty of it. If he is innocent, the idea that you could think him capable of wickedness will distress him, and will in some degree weaken the strength of his virtue. I would rather lose the Pitt diamond, if it were mine, than let an innocent child know he had been for one moment suspected of stealing it. The conscious dignity of integrity should always be respected.

While speaking of punishments, I would suggest one caution. Never undertake to make a child do a thing unless you are very sure you can make him do it. One instance of successful resistance to parental authority will undo the effects of a year’s obedience. If a boy is too bad to be governed by any other means than flogging, and is too strong for you, do not attempt to manage him: tell his father, or his guardians, of his disobedience, and request them to punish him.

Fear should on no occasion be used as a preventive, or a punishment. If children want anything improper for them to have, do not tell them it will bite them. It is not true; and the smallest child will soon learn by experience that it is not true. This will teach him to disbelieve you, when you really do tell the truth, and will soon make a liar of him. Care should be taken not to inspire a terror of animals, such as beetles, mice, spiders, &c. Fortunately we have no venomous creatures in New-England, which are likely to infest the nursery. As for spiders, they are quite as likely to bite a child who is afraid of them, as one who is not; and if such a thing should happen, a little swelling, and a few hours’ pain, are not half as bad as fear, that troubles one all his life long. Children would never have fear of animals, unless it were put into their heads. A little girl of my acquaintance once came running in with a striped snake, exclaiming ‘Oh, what a beautiful creature I have found!’ Her mother acknowledged that she shuddered, because she had herself been taught to fear snakes; but she knew the creature would not hurt her daughter, and she would not allow herself to express any horror; she merely advised her to set the animal at liberty.

Not to kill any animal, seems to me an excess of a good thing. The vermin that infest our houses and gardens must be destroyed, and children must see them destroyed. But it should always be done with expressed regret, and as mercifully as possible. The explanation that we kill them to prevent the evil they would do, is very good, and very satisfactory. But the fact is, there are very few creatures in this climate which do us harm; more than half our aversions to animals are mere prejudices.

However, it is not evils which can be seen, met, and understood, that usually frighten children. A child is told that fire will burn him if he touches it, and if he has been accustomed to the truth, he believes it; but he will stay in the room where there is a fire without fear; for he knows by experience, that the fire cannot come to him. But they are frightened with mysterious ideas of something in the dark—with stories of old men prowling about to steal them—rats and mice that will come and bite them, when they are shut up in the closet, &c.

I cannot find language strong enough to express what a woman deserves, who embitters the whole existence of her offspring by filling their minds with such terrific images. She who can tell a frightful story to her child, or allow one to be told, ought to have a guardian appointed over herself.

Let us examine what the motives must be, that lead to such measures. It is indolence—pure indolence; a mother is not willing to take the pains, and practise the self-denial, which firm and gentle management requires; she therefore terrifies her child into obedience. She implants in his mind a principle that will, in all probability, make him more or less wretched through his whole life, merely to save herself a few moments’ trouble! Very strong minds may overcome, or nearly overcome, early impressions of this kind; but in cases of weak nerves, or acute natural sensibility, it is utterly impossible to calculate the extent of the evil. And all this to save a little trouble! What selfishness!

However, Divine Providence has so ordered it, that whatever is wrong, is really bad policy, as well as bad morality. ‘Lazy people must take the most pains’ in the end. Fill your children with fears to make them obedient, and those very fears become your tyrants. They cannot go into the dark without you; and you must sit by their bedside till sleep relieves them from terror. All this is the consequence of avoiding a little trouble in the beginning. Is it not a dear price for the whistle?

The management of children should vary according to their character. A very active mind, full of restless curiosity, does not need to be excited; but a feeble or sluggish character should be aroused, as much as possible, by external means. For instance, if there is any wonderful sight to be seen in the neighborhood, such as a caravan of animals, a striking picture, wonderful mechanism, &c., and if it be inconvenient for you to take more than one of the children under your care, let the treat be given to the one whose character most needs to be aroused. Of course, I do not mean that lazy children should be entertained, in preference to industrious ones; I mean where there is a pre-disposition to dulness, owing to early disease, an afflicted state of his mother’s mind before his birth, or while nursing him, &c;—in such cases, the thoughts and affections should be excited with an extraordinary degree of care. A timid child should be encouraged more than a bold and confident one; and if necessary to punish him, means should be used as little likely to break his spirit as possible. A boy whose perceptions are slow, and who learns with labor and difficulty, should be indulged in reading a new book, or attending to a new branch of study, which particularly interests him; but a boy of quick perceptions, and ready memory, should be kept at one thing as long as possible. Such different characters are in danger of totally different defects. One is in danger of never getting his mind interested in knowledge, and the other of getting so much interested in everything, that he will learn nothing well; therefore they should be managed in a manner entirely opposite.