Gentle Measures in the Management and Training of the Young by r, The Principles on Which a Firm Parental Authority May Be
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r, The Principles on Which a Firm Parental Authority May Be >> Gentle Measures in the Management and Training of the Young
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21 [Illustration: AUTHORITY.]
GENTLE MEASURES
IN THE
MANAGEMENT AND TRAINING
OF THE YOUNG;
OR,
THE PRINCIPLES ON WHICH A FIRM PARENTAL AUTHORITY MAY BE ESTABLISHED AND
MAINTAINED, WITHOUT VIOLENCE OR ANGER, AND THE RIGHT DEVELOPMENT OF THE
MORAL AND MENTAL CAPACITIES BE PROMOTED BY METHODS IN HARMONY WITH THE
STRUCTURE AND THE CHARACTERISTICS OF THE JUVENILE MIND.
By JACOB ABBOTT,
AUTHOR OF "SCIENCE FOR THE YOUNG," "HARPER'S STORY BOOKS," "FRANCONIA
STORIES," "ABBOTT'S ILLUSTRATED HISTORIES," ETC.
_NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS_.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. THREE MODES OF MANAGEMENT
CHAPTER II. WHAT ARE GENTLE MEASURES?
CHAPTER III. THERE MUST BE AUTHORITY
CHAPTER IV. GENTLE PUNISHMENT OF DISOBEDIENCE
CHAPTER V. THE PHILOSOPHY OF PUNISHMENT
CHAPTER VI. REWARDING OBEDIENCE
CHAPTER VII. THE ART OF TRAINING
CHAPTER VIII. METHODS EXEMPLIFIED
CHAPTER IX. DELLA AND THE DOLLS
CHAPTER X. SYMPATHY:--I. THE CHILD WITH THE PARENT
CHAPTER XI. SYMPATHY:--II. THE PARENT WITH THE CHILD
CHAPTER XII. COMMENDATION AND ENCOURAGEMENT
CHAPTER XIII. FAULTS OF IMMATURITY
CHAPTER XIV. THE ACTIVITY OF CHILDREN
CHAPTER XV. THE IMAGINATION IN CHILDREN
CHAPTER XVI. TRUTH AND FALSEHOOD
CHAPTER XVII. JUDGMENT AND REASONING
CHAPTER XVIII. WISHES AND REQUESTS
CHAPTER XIX. CHILDREN'S QUESTIONS
CHAPTER XX. THE USE OF MONEY
CHAPTER XXI. CORPORAL PUNISHMENT
CHAPTER XXII. GRATITUDE IN CHILDREN
CHAPTER XXIII. RELIGIOUS TRAINING
CHAPTER XXIV. CONCLUSION
ILLUSTRATIONS
AUTHORITY
INDULGENCE
"IT IS NOT SAFE"
THE LESSON IN OBEDIENCE
ROUNDABOUT INSTRUCTION
AFRAID OF THE COW
THE INTENTION GOOD
THE IMAGINATIVE FACULTY
STORY OF THE HORSE
"MOTHER, WHAT MAKES IT SNOW?"
THE RUNAWAY
THE FIRST INSTINCT
GENTLE MEASURES.
CHAPTER I.
THE THREE MODES OF MANAGEMENT.
It is not impossible that in the minds of some persons the idea of
employing gentle measures in the management and training of children may
seem to imply the abandonment of the principle of _authority_, as the
basis of the parental government, and the substitution of some weak and
inefficient system of artifice and manoeuvring in its place. To suppose
that the object of this work is to aid in effecting such a substitution as
that, is entirely to mistake its nature and design. The only government
of the parent over the child that is worthy of the name is one of
authority--complete, absolute, unquestioned _authority_. The object of this
work is, accordingly, not to show how the gentle methods which will be
brought to view can be employed as a substitute for such authority, but how
they can be made to aid in establishing and maintaining it.
_Three Methods_.
There are three different modes of management customarily employed
by parents as means of inducing their children to comply with their
requirements. They are,
1. Government by Manoeuvring and Artifice.
2. By Reason and Affection.
3. By Authority.
_Manoeuvring and Artifice_.
1. Many mothers manage their children by means of tricks and contrivances,
more or less adroit, designed to avoid direct issues with them, and to
beguile them, as it were, into compliance with their wishes. As, for
example, where a mother, recovering from sickness, is going out to take
the air with her husband for the first time, and--as she is still
feeble--wishes for a very quiet drive, and so concludes not to take little
Mary with her, as she usually does on such occasions; but knowing that if
Mary sees the chaise at the door, and discovers that her father and mother
are going in it, she will be very eager to go too, she adopts a system of
manoeuvres to conceal her design. She brings down her bonnet and shawl by
stealth, and before the chaise comes to the door she sends Mary out into
the garden with her sister, under pretense of showing her a bird's nest
which is not there, trusting to her sister's skill in diverting the child's
mind, and amusing her with something else in the garden, until the chaise
has gone. And if, either from hearing the sound of the wheels, or from
any other cause, Mary's suspicions are awakened--and children habitually
managed on these principles soon learn to be extremely distrustful and
suspicious--and she insists on going into the house, and thus discovers the
stratagem, then, perhaps, her mother tells her that they are only going to
the doctor's, and that if Mary goes with them, the doctor will give her
some dreadful medicine, and compel her to take it, thinking thus to deter
her from insisting on going with them to ride.
As the chaise drives away, Mary stands bewildered and perplexed on the
door-step, her mind in a tumult of excitement, in which hatred of the
doctor, distrust and suspicion of her mother, disappointment, vexation, and
ill humor, surge and swell among those delicate organizations on which the
structure and development of the soul so closely depend--doing perhaps an
irreparable injury. The mother, as soon as the chaise is so far turned that
Mary can no longer watch the expression of her countenance, goes away from
the door with a smile of complacency and satisfaction upon her face at the
ingenuity and success of her little artifice.
In respect to her statement that she was going to the doctor's, it may,
or may not, have been true. Most likely not; for mothers who manage their
children on this system find the line of demarkation between deceit and
falsehood so vague and ill defined that they soon fall into the habit of
disregarding it altogether, and of saying, without hesitation, any thing
which will serve the purpose in view.
_Governing by Reason and Affection_.
2. The theory of many mothers is that they must govern their children by
the influence of reason and affection. Their method may be exemplified by
supposing that, under circumstances similar to those described under the
preceding head, the mother calls Mary to her side, and, smoothing her hair
caressingly with her hand while she speaks, says to her,
"Mary, your father and I are going out to ride this afternoon, and I am
going to explain it all to you why you can not go too. You see, I have been
sick, and am getting well, and I am going out to ride, so that I may get
well faster. You love mamma, I am sure, and wish to have her get well soon.
So you will be a good girl, I know, and not make any trouble, but will stay
at home contentedly--won't you? Then I shall love you, and your papa will
love you, and after I get well we will take you to ride with us some day."
The mother, in managing the case in this way, relies partly on convincing
the reason of the child, and partly on an appeal to her affection.
_Governing by Authority_.
3. By the third method the mother secures the compliance of the child by
a direct exercise of authority. She says to her--the circumstances of the
case being still supposed to be the same--
"Mary, your father and I are going out to ride this afternoon, and I am
sorry, for your sake, that we can not take you with us."
"Why can't you take me?" asks Mary.
"I can not tell you why, now," replies the mother, "but perhaps I will
explain it to you after I come home. I think there _is_ a good reason, and,
at any rate, I have decided that you are not to go. If you are a good girl,
and do not make any difficulty, you can have your little chair out upon
the front door-step, and can see the chaise come to the door, and see your
father and me get in and drive away; and you can wave your handkerchief to
us for a good-bye."
Then, if she observes any expression of discontent or insubmission in
Mary's countenance, the mother would add,
"If you should _not_ be a good girl, but should show signs of making us any
trouble, I shall have to send you out somewhere to the back part of the
house until we are gone."
But this last supposition is almost always unnecessary; for if Mary has
been habitually managed on this principle she will _not_ make any
trouble. She will perceive at once that the question is settled--settled
irrevocably--and especially that it is entirely beyond the power of any
demonstrations of insubmission or rebellion that she can make to change it.
She will acquiesce at once.[A] She may be sorry that she can not go, but
she will make no resistance. Those children only attempt to carry their
points by noisy and violent demonstrations who find, by experience, that
such measures are usually successful. A child, even, who has become once
accustomed to them, will soon drop them if she finds, owing to a change
in the system of management, that they now never succeed. And a child who
never, from the beginning, finds any efficiency in them, never learns to
employ them at all.
_Conclusion_.
Of the three methods of managing children exemplified in this chapter,
the last is the only one which can be followed either with comfort to the
parent or safety to the child; and to show how this method can be brought
effectually into operation by gentle measures is the object of this book.
It is, indeed, true that the importance of tact and skill in the training
of the young, and of cultivating their reason, and securing their
affection, can not be overrated. But the influences secured by these means
form, at the best, but a sandy foundation for filial obedience to rest
upon. The child is not to be made to comply with the requirements of his
parents by being artfully inveigled into compliance, nor is his obedience
to rest on his love for father and mother, and his unwillingness
to displease them, nor on his conviction of the rightfulness and
reasonableness of their commands, but on simple _submission to
authority_--that absolute and almost unlimited authority which all parents
are commissioned by God and nature to exercise over their offspring during
the period while the offspring remain dependent upon their care.
CHAPTER II.
WHAT ARE GENTLE MEASURES?
It being thus distinctly understood that the gentle measures in the
training of children herein recommended are not to be resorted to as a
_substitute_ for parental authority, but as the easiest and most effectual
means of establishing and maintaining that authority in its most absolute
form, we have now to consider what the nature of these gentle measures is,
and by what characteristics they are distinguished, in their action and
influence, from such as may be considered more or less violent and harsh.
Gentle measures are those which tend to exert a calming, quieting, and
soothing influence on the mind, or to produce only such excitements as
are pleasurable in their character, as means of repressing wrong and
encouraging right action. Ungentle measures are those which tend to inflame
and irritate the mind, or to agitate it with _painful_ excitements.
_Three Degrees of Violence_.
There seem to be three grades or forms of violence to which a mother may
resort in controlling her children, or, perhaps, rather three classes of
measures which are more or less violent in their effects. To illustrate
these we will take an example.
_Case supposed_.
One day Louisa, four years old, asked her mother for an apple. "Have you
had any already?" asked her mother.
"Only one," replied Louisa. "Then Bridget may give you another," said the
mother.
What Louisa said was not true. She had already eaten two apples. Bridget
heard the falsehood, but she did not consider it her duty to betray the
child, so she said nothing. The mother, however, afterwards, in the course
of the day, accidentally ascertained the truth.
Now, as we have said, there are three grades in the kind and character of
the measures which may be considered violent that a mother may resort to in
a case like this.
_Bodily Punishment_.
1. First, there is the infliction of bodily pain. The child may be whipped,
or tied to the bed-post, and kept in a constrained and uncomfortable
position for a long time, or shut up in solitude and darkness, or punished
by the infliction of bodily suffering in other ways.
And there is no doubt that there is a tendency in such treatment to correct
or cure the fault. But measures like these, whether successful or not, are
certainly violent measures. They shock the whole nervous system, sometimes
with the excitement of pain and terror, and always, probably, with that
of resentment and anger. In some cases this excitement is extreme. The
excessively delicate organization of the brain, through which such
agitations reach the sensorium, and which, in children of an early age, is
in its most tender and sensitive state of development, is subjected to a
most intense and violent agitation.
_Evil Effects of Violence in this Form_.
The evil effects of this excessive cerebral action may _perhaps_ entirely
pass away in a few hours, and leave no trace of injury behind; but then,
on the other hand, there is certainly reason to fear that such commotions,
especially if often repeated, tend to impede the regular and healthful
development of the organs, and that they may become the origin of
derangements, or of actual disorganizations, resulting very seriously in
future years. It is impossible, perhaps, to know with certainty whether
permanent ill effects follow in such cases or not. At any rate, such a
remedy is a violent one.
_The Frightening System_.
2. There is a second grade of violence in the treatment of such a case,
which consists in exciting pain or terror, or other painful or disagreeable
emotions, through the imagination, by presenting to the fancy of the child
images of phantoms, hobgoblins, and other frightful monsters, whose ire, it
is pretended, is greatly excited by the misdeeds of children, and who come
in the night-time to take them away, or otherwise visit them with terrible
retribution. Domestic servants are very prone to adopt this mode of
discipline. Being forbidden to resort to personal violence as a means of
exciting pain and terror, they attempt to accomplish the same end by other
means, which, however, in many respects, are still more injurious in their
action.
_Management of Nurses and Servants_.
Nurses and attendants upon children from certain nationalities in Europe
are peculiarly disposed to employ this method of governing children placed
under their care. One reason is that they are accustomed to this mode of
management at home; and another is that many of them are brought up under
an idea, which prevails extensively in some of those countries, that it
is right to tell falsehoods where the honest object is to accomplish a
charitable or useful end. Accordingly, inasmuch as the restraining of the
children from wrong is a good and useful object, they can declare the
existence of giants and hobgoblins, to carry away and devour bad girls and
boys, with an air of positiveness and seeming honesty, and with a calm and
persistent assurance, which aids them very much in producing on the minds
of the children a conviction of the truth of what they say; while, on the
other hand, those who, in theory at least, occupy the position that
the direct falsifying of one's word is _never_ justifiable, act at a
disadvantage in attempting this method. For although, in practice, they are
often inclined to make an exception to their principles in regard to truth
in the case of what is said to young children, they can not, after all,
tell children what they know to be not true with that bold and confident
air necessary to carry full conviction to the children's minds. They are
embarrassed by a kind of half guilty feeling, which, partially at least,
betrays them, and the children do not really and fully believe what they
say. They can not suppose that their mother would really tell them what
she knew was false, and yet they can not help perceiving that she does not
speak and look as if what she was saying was actually true.
_Monsieur and Madame Croquemitaine_.
In all countries there are many, among even the most refined and highly
cultivated classes, who are not at all embarrassed by any moral delicacy
of this kind. This is especially the case in those countries in Europe,
particularly on the Continent, where the idea above referred to, of the
allowableness of falsehood in certain cases as a means for the attainment
of a good end, is generally entertained. The French have two terrible
bugbears, under the names of Monsieur and Madame Croquemitaine, who are as
familiar to the imaginations of French children as Santa Claus is, in a
much more agreeable way, to the juvenile fancy at our firesides. Monsieur
and Madame Croquemitaine are frightful monsters, who come down the chimney,
or through the roof, at night, and carry off bad children. They learn from
their _little fingers_--which whisper in their ears when they hold them
near--who the bad children are, where they live, and what they have done.
The instinctive faith of young children in their mother's truthfulness is
so strong that no absurdity seems gross enough to overcome it.
_The Black Man and the Policeman_.
There are many mothers among us who--though not quite prepared to call
in the aid of ghosts, giants, and hobgoblins, or of Monsieur and Madame
Croquemitaine, in managing their children--still, sometimes, try to eke out
their failing authority by threatening them with the "black man," or the
"policeman," or some other less, supernatural terror. They seem to imagine
that inasmuch as, while there is no such thing in existence as a hobgoblin,
there really are policemen and prisons, they only half tell an untruth by
saying to the recalcitrant little one that a policeman is coming to carry
him off to jail.
_Injurious Effects_.
Although, by these various modes of exciting imaginary fears, there is no
direct and outward infliction of bodily suffering, the effect produced on
the delicate organization of the brain by such excitements is violent in
the extreme. The paroxysms of agitation and terror which they sometimes
excite, and which are often spontaneously renewed by darkness and solitude,
and by other exciting causes, are of the nature of temporary insanity.
Indeed, the extreme nervous excitability which they produce sometimes
becomes a real insanity, which, though it may, in many cases, be finally
outgrown, may probably in many others lead to lasting and most deplorable
results.
_Harsh Reproofs and Threatenings_.
3. There is a third mode of treatment, more common, perhaps, among _us_
than either of the preceding, which, though much milder in its character
than they, we still class among the violent measures, on account of
its operation and effects. It consists of stern and harsh rebukes,
denunciations of the heinousness of the sin of falsehood, with solemn
premonitions of the awful consequences of it, in this life and in that to
come, intended to awaken feelings of alarm and distress in the mind of the
child, as a means of promoting repentance and reformation. These are
not violent measures, it is true, so far as outward physical action is
concerned; but the effects which they produce are sometimes of quite a
violent nature, in their operation on the delicate nervous and mental
susceptibilities which are excited and agitated by them. If the mother
is successful in making the impression which such a mode of treatment is
designed to produce, the child, especially if a girl, is agitated and
distressed. Her nervous system is greatly disturbed. If calmed for a time,
the paroxysm is very liable to return. She wakes in the night, perhaps,
with an indefinable feeling of anxiety and terror, and comes to her
mother's bedside, to seek, in her presence, and in the sense of protection
which it affords, a relief from her distress.
The conscientious mother, supremely anxious to secure the best interests
of her child, may say that, after all, it is better that she should endure
this temporary suffering than not be saved from the sin. This is true. But
if she can be saved just as effectually without it, it is better still.
_The Gentle Method of Treatment_.
4. We now come to the gentle measures which may be adopted in a case of
discipline like this. They are endlessly varied in form, but, to illustrate
the nature and operation of them, and the spirit and temper of mind with
which they should be enforced, with a view of communicating; to the mind of
the reader some general idea of the characteristics of that gentleness of
treatment which it is the object of this work to commend, we will describe
an actual case, substantially as it really occurred, where a child, whom
we will still call Louisa, told her mother a falsehood about the apple, as
already related.
_Choosing the Right Time_.
Her mother--though Louisa's manner, at the time of giving her answer, led
her to feel somewhat suspicious--did not express her suspicions, but gave
her the additional apple. Nor did she afterwards, when she ascertained the
facts, say any thing on the subject. The day passed away as if nothing
unusual had occurred. When bed-time came she undressed the child and laid
her in her bed, playing with her, and talking with her in an amusing manner
all the time, so as to bring her into a contented and happy frame of
mind, and to establish as close a connection as possible of affection and
sympathy between them. Then, finally, when the child's prayer had been
said, and she was about to be left for the night, her mother, sitting in
a chair at the head of her little bed, and putting her hand lovingly upon
her, said:
_The Story_.
"But first I must tell you one more little story.
"Once there was a boy, and his name was Ernest. He was a pretty large boy,
for he was five years old."
Louisa, it must be recollected, was only four.
"He was a very pretty boy. He had bright blue eyes and curling hair. He
was a very good boy, too. He did not like to do any thing wrong. He always
found that it made him feel uncomfortable and unhappy afterwards when he
did any thing wrong. A good many children, especially good children, find
that it makes them feel uncomfortable and unhappy when they do wrong.
Perhaps you do."
"Yes, mamma, I do," said Louisa.
"I am glad of that," replied her mother; "that is a good sign."
"Ernest went one day," added the mother, continuing her story, "with his
little cousin Anna to their uncle's, in hopes that he would give them
some apples. Their uncle had a beautiful garden, and in it there was an
apple-tree which bore most excellent apples. They were large, and rosy, and
mellow, and sweet. The children liked the apples from that tree very much,
and Ernest and Anna went that day in hopes that their uncle would give them
some of them. He said he would. He would give them three apiece. He told
them to go into the garden and wait there until he came. They must not take
any apples off the tree, he said, but if they found any _under_ the tree
they might take them, provided that there were not more than three apiece;
and when he came he would take enough off the tree, he said, to make up the
number to three.
"So the children went into the garden and looked under the tree. They found
_two_ apples there, and they took them up and ate them--one apiece. Then
they sat down and began to wait for their uncle to come. While they were
waiting Anna proposed that they should not tell their uncle that they had
found the two apples, and so he would give them three more, which he would
take from the tree; whereas, if he knew that they had already had one
apiece, then he would only give them two more. Ernest said that his uncle
would ask them about it. Anna said, 'No matter, we can tell him that we did
not find any.'
"Ernest seemed to be thinking about it for a moment, and then, shaking his
head, said, 'No, I think we had better not tell him a lie!'
"So when he saw their uncle coming he said, 'Come, Anna, let us go and tell
him about it, just how it was. So they ran together to meet their uncle,
and told him that they had found two apples under the tree, one apiece,
and had eaten them. Then he gave them two more apiece, according to his
promise, and they went home feeling contented and happy.
"They might have had one more apple apiece, probably, by combining together
to tell a falsehood; but in that case they would have gone home feeling
guilty and unhappy."
_The Effect_.
Louisa's mother paused a moment, after finishing her story, to give Louisa
time to think about it a little.
"I think," she added at length, after a suitable pause, "that it was a
great deal better for them to tell the truth, as they did."
"I think so too, mamma," said Louisa, at the same time casting down her
eyes and looking a little confused.
"But you know," added her mother, speaking in a very kind and gentle tone,
"that you did not tell me the truth to-day about the apple that Bridget
gave you."
Louisa paused a moment, looked in her mother's face, and then, reaching up
to put her arms around her mother's neck, she said,
"Mamma, I am determined never to tell you another wrong story as long as I
live."
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