Advice to a Mother on the Management of Her Children

by Pye Henry Chavasse

No, unless it be a small piece for a child to roll upon. A carpet harbours dirt and dust, which dust is constantly floating about the atmosphere, and thus making it impure for him to breathe. The truth of this may be easily ascertained by entering a darkened room, where a ray of sunshine is struggling through a crevice in the shutters. If the floor of a nursery must be covered, let drugget be laid down, and this may every morning be taken up and shaken. The less furniture a nursery contains the better, for much furniture obstructs the free circulation of the air, and, moreover, prevents a child from taking proper play and exercise in the room—an abundance of which are absolutely necessary for his health.

171. Supposing there is not a fire in the nursery grate, ought the chimney to be stopped to prevent a draught in the room?

Certainly not. I consider the use of a chimney to be two-fold—first, to carry off the smoke, and secondly (which is of quite as much importance), to ventilate the room, by carrying off the impure air, loaded as it is with carbonic acid gas—the refuse of respiration. The chimney, therefore, should never, either winter or summer, be allowed for one moment to be stopped. This is important advice, and requires the strict supervision of every mother, as servants will, if they have the chance, stop all chimneys that have no fires in the grates.

EXERCISE.

172. Do you approve, during the summer months, of sending a child out BEFORE breakfast?

I do, when the weather will permit, and provided the wind be neither in an easterly nor in a north-easterly direction; indeed, he can scarcely be too much in the open air. He must not be allowed to stand about draughts or about entries, and the only way to prevent him doing so is for the mother herself to accompany the nurse. She will then kill two birds with one stone, as she will, by doing so, benefit her own as well as her child's health.

173. Ought a child to be early put on his feet to walk?

No: let him learn to walk himself. He ought to be put upon a carpet; and it will be found that when he is strong enough, he will hold by a chair, and will stand alone: when he can do so, and attempts to walk, he should then be supported. You must, on first putting him upon his feet, be guided by his own wishes. He will, as soon as he is strong enough to walk, have the inclination to do so. When he has the inclination and the strength it will be folly to restrain him; if he have neither the inclination nor the strength, it will be absurd to urge him on. Rely, therefore, to a certain extent, upon the inclination of the child himself. Self-reliance cannot be too early taught him, and, indeed, every one else. In the generality of instances, however, a child is put on his feet too soon, and the bones, at that tender age, being very flexible, bend, causing bowed and bandy-legs; and the knees, being weak, approximate too closely together, and thus they become knock-kneed. This advice of not putting a child early on his feet, I must strongly insist on, as many mothers are so ridiculously ambitious that their young ones should walk early—that they should walk before other children of their acquaintance have attempted—that they have frequently caused the above lamentable deformities; which is a standing reproach to them during the rest of their lives.

174. Do you approve of perambulators?

I do not, for two reasons:—first, because when a child is strong enough, he had better walk as much as he will; and, secondly, the motion is not so good, and the muscles are not so much put into action, and consequently cannot be so well developed, as when he is earned. A perambulator is very apt to make a child stoop, and to make him both crooked and round-shouldered. He is cramped by being so long in one position. It is painful to notice a babe of a few months old in one of these newfangled carriages. His little head is bobbing about first on one side and then on the other—at one moment it is dropping on his chest, the next it is forcibly jolted behind: he looks, and doubtless feels, wretched and uncomfortable. Again, these perambulators are dangerous in crowded thoroughfares. They are a public nuisance, inasmuch as they are wheeled against and between people's legs, and are a fruitful source of the breaking of shins, of the spraining of ankles, of the crushing of corns, and of the ruffling of the tempers of the foot-passengers who unfortunately come within their reach; while, in all probability, the gaping nurses are staring another way, and every way indeed but the right, more especially if there be a redcoat in the path!