The mother's book

by Lydia Maria Child

To be an intelligent English reader, one should be well acquainted with the ancients. Much of our floating literature might be profitably set aside to give leisure for Plutarch’s Lives and Anarcharsis’ Travels. But it seems to me that this class of reading peculiarly requires guidance. The heroes of a past age are by no means models for this, and to present them to the youthful mind as great men, without comment, has always seemed to me unwise. Ulysses, for example, is presented to the classical scholar as the wisest of the Greeks; as ‘wise as Ulysses’ has passed into proverbial speech; yet what a cunning, lying knave he was! It is not easy to calculate the moral results of such incidental teaching. Modern defalcation and repudiation may be more nearly connected with it than we imagine. Unquestionably the young student should be made acquainted with Ulysses; for every fact in the history of man is significant and useful. But he should be looked at in the light of Christianity, though not tried by its standard; for that would be unjust to him. The parent should speak of Ulysses as he was, both in his greatness and his defects; and sum up by remarking that such was the product of the theology and government of those times, and such their ideas of wisdom; for they had never heard the teachings of him who said, ‘Except ye become as little children, ye shall not enter the kingdom of heaven.’

Deeply impressed as I am with the rationality and holiness of perfect forgiveness of injuries, I could not allow a child of mine to read any history, or biographies of statesmen or warriors, without a running commentary, made by the continual application of the Christian standard. Violence and bloodshed will linger much longer on the earth, for want of these precautions in education. Yet whosoever would do this work wisely, must first have the principles of peace clearly defined in his own mind. The education of a young immortal is indeed a fearful responsibility.

This allusion to war reminds me of Dymond’s Principles of Morality; a volume which seems to me to be indeed a ‘diamond in the desert.’ I know of no other book of ethics that so consistently and uniformly applies the Christian standard to all the relations of life. Caroline M. Kirkland has done the public good service by abridging this excellent work for the use of families and schools. I think it will indicate a considerable step in human progress, when this book casts out Paley from our seminaries of learning.

But it is not enough that we introduce pure and elevated books into our families. If we would have them produce their full effect on our children, we must be careful that our own daily habits and incidental conversation are not at discord with them. To many families the following remarks by Frederika Bremer are but too applicable:

‘The daughters of the house were taught that all pomp and pleasure of this world was only vanity; that nothing was important and worth striving after, but virtue and unblemished worth. Yet, for all this, it so happened that the most lively interest and endeavors, and the warmest wishes of the hearts of all, were directed to wealth, rank, and worldly fortune of every kind. The daughters were taught that in all things the will of God must direct them; yet in every instance they were guided by the fear of man. They were taught that beauty was of no value; yet they were often compelled to feel, and that painfully, in the paternal house, that they were not handsome. They were allowed to cultivate some talents, and acquire some knowledge, but God forbid that they should ever become learned women; on which account, they learned nothing thoroughly; though in many instances they pretended to knowledge, without possessing anything of its spirit, its nourishing strength, or its esteem-inspiring earnestness. But above all things, they learned, and this only more and more profoundly the more their years increased, that marriage was the goal of their being; and in consequence thereof, (though this was never inculcated in words,) to esteem the favor of man as the highest happiness; denying all the time that they thought so.’

Few things have a greater tendency to produce refinement than good poetry. It is therefore wise to cultivate a taste for it, by encouraging children to commit to memory such verses as are at once attractive in style, and healthy in their moral tone. Wordsworth and Mary Howitt have written several that are peculiarly well adapted to this purpose. American poets, too, have furnished many a gem for the delight of childhood. If these things can be sung as well as said, it adds another innocent delight to life, another attraction to home. In the choice of tunes, care should be taken not to overstrain the childish voice, and thus injure its future sweetness. Still more care should be taken in the selection of songs. The early writings of Thomas Moore ought to be avoided, like poison concealed in honey-dew; especially at that romantic age when the young heart begins to swell with undefined yearnings and aspirations, like the flower-bud bursting from its calyx. Moore himself would gladly recall many of these effusions, which have gone the wide world over, on the wings of music. A friend once inquired at what time he began to regret the publication of these voluptuous songs. ‘When I had a daughter old enough to read them,’ was the reply.

It may perhaps assist some inexperienced parents to mention a few of those books which appear to me most valuable for young people. The list is, of course, very imperfect, because my limits make it necessary that it should be brief. I doubtless omit very many that deserve commendation; but I mention none which do not appear to me excellent of their kind.

For Children Four or Five Years Old.

Mrs. Barbauld’s Lessons for Children. All unite in cordially approving this lady’s writings. Good sense is clothed in very attractive simplicity, and the thoughts are continually directed to God, as the Giver of all that we enjoy.

Mamma’s Lessons. An uncommonly excellent little book.