Chapter XIII: Letter V: To a Father (3)

289. Men's circumstances are so various; there is such a great variety in their situations in life, their business, the extent of their pecuniary means, the local state in which they are placed, their internal resources; the variety in all these respects is so great, that, as applicable to _every_ family, it would be impossible to lay down any set of rules, or maxims, touching _every_ matter relating to the management and rearing up of children. In giving an account, therefore, of _my own_ conduct, in this respect, I am not to be understood as supposing, that _every_ father _can_, or ought, to attempt to do _the same_; but while it will be seen, that there are _many_, and these the most important parts of that conduct, that _all_ fathers may imitate, if they choose, there is no part of it which thousands and thousands of fathers might not adopt and pursue, and adhere to, to the very letter.

290. I effected every thing without scolding, and even without _command_. My children are a family of _scholars_, each sex its appropriate species of learning; and, I could safely take my oath, that I never _ordered_ a child of mine, son or daughter, _to look into a book_, in my life. My two eldest sons, when about eight years old, were, for the sake of their health, placed for a very short time, at a Clergyman's at MICHELDEVER, and my eldest daughter, a little older, at a school a few miles from Botley, to avoid taking them to London in the winter. But, with these exceptions, never had they, while children, _teacher_ of any description; and I never, and nobody else ever, taught any one of them to read, write, or any thing else, except in _conversation_; and, yet, no man was ever more anxious to be the father of a family of clever and learned persons.

291. I accomplished my purpose _indirectly_. The first thing of all was _health_, which was secured by the deeply-interesting and never-ending _sports of the field_ and _pleasures of the garden_. Luckily these things were treated of in _books_ and _pictures_ of endless variety; so that on _wet days_, in _long evenings_, these came into play. A large, strong table, in the middle of the room, their mother sitting at her work, used to be surrounded with them, the baby, if big enough, set up in a high chair. Here were ink-stands, pens, pencils, India rubber, and paper, all in abundance, and every one scrabbled about as he or she pleased. There were prints of animals of all sorts; books treating of them: others treating of gardening, of flowers, of husbandry, of hunting, coursing, shooting, fishing, planting, and, in short, of every thing, with regard to which _we had something to do_. One would be trying to imitate a bit of my writing, another _drawing_ the pictures of some of our dogs or horses, a third poking over _Bewick's Quadrupeds_ and picking out what he said about them; but our book of never-failing resource was the _French_ MAISON RUSTIQUE, or FARM-HOUSE, which, it is said, was the book that first tempted DUQUESNOIS (I think that was the name), the famous physician, in the reign of Louis XIV., _to learn to read_. Here are all the _four-legged animals_, from the horse down to the mouse, _portraits_ and all; all the _birds_, _reptiles_, _insects_; all the modes of rearing, managing, and using the tame ones; all the modes of taking the wild ones, and of destroying those that are mischievous; all the various traps, springs, nets; all the implements of husbandry and gardening; all the labours of the field and the garden exhibited, as well as the rest, in plates; and, there was I, in my leisure moments, to join this inquisitive group, to read the _French_, and tell them what it meaned in _English_, when the picture did not sufficiently explain itself. I never have been without a copy of this book for forty years, except during the time that I was fleeing from the dungeons of CASTLEREAGH and SIDMOUTH, in 1817; and, when I got to Long Island, the _first book I bought_ was another MAISON RUSTIQUE.

292. What need had we of _schools_? What need of _teachers_? What need of _scolding_ and _force_, to induce children to read, write, and love books? What need of _cards, dice_, or of any _games_, to '_kill time_;' but, in fact, to implant in the infant heart a love of _gaming_, one of the most destructive of all human vices? We did not want to _'kill time_;' we were always _busy_, wet weather or dry weather, winter or summer. There was _no force_ in any case; no _command_; no _authority_; none of these was ever wanted. To teach the children the habit of _early rising_ was a great object; and every one knows how young people cling to their beds, and how loth they are to go to those beds. This was a capital matter; because, here were _industry_ and _health_ both at stake. Yet, I avoided _command_ even here; and merely offered a _reward_. The child that was _down stairs_ first, was called the LARK _for that day_; and, further, _sat at my right hand at dinner_. They soon discovered, that to rise early, they must _go to bed early_; and thus was this most important object secured, with regard to girls as well as boys. Nothing more inconvenient, and, indeed, more disgusting, than to have to do with girls, or young women, who lounge in bed: 'A little more sleep, a little more slumber, a little more folding of the hands to sleep.' SOLOMON knew them well: he had, I dare say, seen the breakfast cooling, carriages and horses and servants waiting, the sun coming burning on, the day wasting, the night growing dark too early, appointments broken, and the objects of journeys defeated; and all this from the lolloping in bed of persons who ought to have risen with the sun. No beauty, no modesty, no accomplishments, are a compensation for the effects of laziness in women; and, of all the proofs of laziness, none is so unequivocal as that of lying late in bed. Love makes men overlook this vice (for it is a _vice_), for _a while_; but, this does not last for life. Besides, _health_ demands early rising: the management of a house imperiously demands it; but _health_, that most precious possession, without which there is nothing else worth possessing, demands it too. The _morning air_ is the most wholesome and strengthening: even in crowded cities, men might do pretty well with the aid of the morning air; but, how are they to _rise_ early, if they go to bed _late_?

293. But, to do the things I did, you must _love home_ yourself; to rear up children in this manner, you must _live with them_; you must make them, too, _feel_, by your conduct, that you _prefer_ this to any other mode of passing your time. All men cannot lead this sort of life, but many may; and all much more than many do. My occupation, to be sure, was chiefly carried on _at home_; but, I had always enough to do; I never spent an idle week, or even day, in my whole life. Yet I found time to talk with them, to walk, or ride, about _with them_; and when forced to go from home, always took one or more with me. You must be good-tempered too with them; they must like _your_ company better than any other person's; they must not wish you away, not fear your coming back, not look upon your departure as a _holiday_. When my business kept me away from the _scrabbling_-table, a petition often came, that I would go and _talk_ with the group, and the bearer generally was the youngest, being the most likely to succeed. When I went from home, all followed me to the outer-gate, and looked after me, till the carriage, or horse, was out of sight. At the time appointed for my return, all were prepared to meet me; and if it were late at night, they sat up as long as they were able to keep their eyes open. This love of parents, and this constant pleasure _at home_, made them not even think of seeking pleasure abroad; and they, thus, were kept from vicious playmates and early corruption.

294. This is the age, too, to teach children to be _trust-worthy_, and to be _merciful_ and _humane_. We lived _in a garden_ of about two acres, partly kitchen-garden with walls, partly shrubbery and trees, and partly grass. There were the _peaches_, as tempting as any that ever grew, and yet as safe from fingers as if no child were ever in the garden. It was not necessary to _forbid_. The blackbirds, the thrushes, the whitethroats, and even that very shy bird the goldfinch, had their nests and bred up their young-ones, in great abundance, all about this little spot, constantly the play-place of six children; and one of the latter had its nest, and brought up its young-ones, in a _raspberry-bush_, within two yards of a walk, and at the time that we were gathering the ripe raspberries. We give _dogs_, and justly, great credit for sagacity and memory; but the following two most curious instances, which I should not venture to state, if there were not so many witnesses to the facts, in my neighbours at Botley, as well as in my own family, will show, that _birds_ are not, in this respect, inferior to the canine race. All country people know that the _skylark_ is a very shy bird; that its abode is the open fields: that it settles on the ground only; that it seeks safety in the wideness of space; that it avoids enclosures, and is never seen in gardens. A part of our ground was a grass-plat of about _forty rods_, or a quarter of an acre, which, one year, was left to be mowed for hay. A pair of larks, coming out of the fields into the middle of a pretty populous village, chose to make their nest in the middle of this little spot, and at not more than about _thirty-five yards_ from one of the doors of the house, in which there were about twelve persons living, and six of those children, who had constant access to all parts of the ground. There we saw the cock rising up and singing, then taking his turn upon the eggs; and by-and-by, we observed him cease to sing, and saw them both _constantly engaged in bringing food to the young ones_. No unintelligible hint to fathers and mothers of the human race, who have, before marriage, taken delight in _music_. But the time came for _mowing the grass_! I waited a good many days for the brood to get away; but, at last, I determined on the day; and if the larks were there still, to leave a patch of grass standing round them. In order not to keep them in dread longer than necessary, I brought three able mowers, who would cut the whole in about an hour; and as the plat was nearly circular, set them to mow _round_, beginning at the outside. And now for sagacity indeed! The moment the men began to whet their scythes, the two old larks began to flutter over the nest, and to make a great clamour. When the men began to mow, they flew round and round, stooping so low, when near the men, as almost to touch their bodies, making a great chattering at the same time; but before the men had got round with the second swarth, they flew to the nest, and away they went, young ones and all, across the river, at the foot of the ground, and settled in the long grass in my neighbour's orchard.

295. The other instance relates to a HOUSE-MARTEN. It is well known that these birds build their nests under the eaves of inhabited houses, and sometimes under those of door porches; but we had one that built its nest _in the house_, and upon the top of a common doorcase, the door of which opened into a room out of the main passage into the house. Perceiving the marten had begun to build its nest here, we kept the front-door open in the daytime; but were obliged to fasten it at night. It went on, had eggs, young ones, and the young ones flew. I used to open the door in the morning early, and then the birds carried on their affairs till night. The next _year_ the MARTEN came again, and had _another brood in the same place_. It found its _old nest_; and having repaired it, and put it in order, went on again in the former way; and it would, I dare say, have continued to come to the end of its life, if we had remained there so long, notwithstanding there were six healthy children in the house, making just as much noise as they pleased.

296. Now, what _sagacity_ in these birds, to discover that those were places of safety! And how happy must it have made us, the parents, to be _sure_ that our children had thus deeply imbibed habits the contrary of cruelty! For, be it engraven on your heart, YOUNG MAN, that, whatever appearances may say to the contrary, _cruelty_ is always accompanied with _cowardice_, and also with _perfidy_, when that is called for by the circumstances of the case; and that _habitual_ acts of cruelty to other creatures, will, nine times out of ten, produce, when the power is possessed, cruelty to human beings. The ill-usage of _horses_, and particularly _asses_, is a grave and a just charge against this nation. No other nation on earth is guilty of it to the same extent. Not only by _blows_, but by privation, are we cruel towards these useful, docile, and patient creatures; and especially towards the last, which is the most docile and patient and laborious of the two, while the food that satisfies it, is of the coarsest and least costly kind, and in quantity so small! In the habitual ill-treatment of this animal, which, in addition to all its labours, has the milk taken from its young ones to administer a remedy for our ailments, there is something that bespeaks _ingratitude_ hardly to be described. In a REGISTER that I wrote from Long Island, I said, that amongst all the things of which I had been bereft, I regretted no one so much as a very diminutive _mare_, on which my children had all, in succession, learned to ride. She was become useless for them, and, indeed, for any other purpose; but the recollection of her was so entwined with so many past circumstances, which, at that distance, my mind conjured up, that I really was very uneasy, lest she should fall into cruel hands. By good luck, she was, after a while, turned out on the wide world to shift for herself; and when we got back, and had a place for her to _stand_ in, from her native forest we brought her to Kensington, and she is now at Barn-Elm, about twenty-six years old, and I dare say, as fat as a mole. Now, not only have I no moral _right_ (considering my ability to pay for keep) to deprive her of life; but it would be _unjust_ and _ungrateful_, in me to withhold from her sufficient food and lodging to make life as pleasant as possible while that life last.

297. In the meanwhile the book-learning _crept in_ of its own accord, by imperceptible degrees. Children naturally want to be _like_ their parents, and _to do what they do_: the boys following their father, and the girls their mother; and as I was always _writing_ or _reading_, mine naturally desired to do something in the same way. But, at the same time, they heard no talk from _fools_ or _drinkers_; saw me with no idle, gabbling, empty companions; saw no vain and affected coxcombs, and no tawdry and extravagant women; saw no nasty gormandizing; and heard no gabble about play-houses and romances and the other nonsense that fit boys to be lobby-loungers, and girls to be the ruin of industrious and frugal young men.

298. We wanted no stimulants of this sort to _keep up our spirits_: our various pleasing pursuits were quite sufficient for that; and the _book-learning_ came amongst the rest of the pleasures, to which it was, in some sort, necessary. I remember that, one year, I raised a prodigious crop of fine _melons_, under hand-glasses; and I learned how to do it from a gardening _book_; or, at least, that book was necessary to remind me of the details. Having passed part of an evening in talking to the boys about getting this crop, 'Come,' said I, 'now, let us _read the book_.' Then the book came forth, and to work we went, following very strictly the precepts of the book. I read the thing but once, but the eldest boy read it, perhaps, twenty times over; and explained all about the matter to the others. Why here was a _motive_! Then he had to tell the garden-labourer _what to do_ to the melons. Now, I will engage, that more was really _learned_ by this single _lesson_, than would have been learned by spending, at this son's age, a year at school; and he _happy_ and _delighted_ all the while. When any dispute arose amongst them about hunting or shooting, or any other of their pursuits, they, by degrees, found out the way of settling it by reference to some book; and when any difficulty occurred, as to the meaning, they referred to me, who, if at home, _always instantly attended to them_, in these matters.

299. They began writing by taking words out of _printed books_; finding out which letter was which, by asking me, or asking those who knew the letters one from another; and by imitating bits of my writing, it is surprising how soon they began to write a hand like mine, very small, very faint-stroked, and nearly plain as print. The first use that any one of them made of the pen, was to _write to me_, though in the same house with them. They began doing this in mere _scratches_, before they knew how to make any one letter; and as I was always folding up letters and directing them, so were they; and they were _sure_ to receive a _prompt answer_, with most _encouraging_ compliments. All the meddlings and teazings of friends, and, what was more serious, the pressing prayers of their anxious mother, about sending them to _school_, I withstood without the slightest effect on my resolution. As to friends, preferring my own judgment to theirs, I did not care much; but an expression of anxiety, implying a doubt of the soundness of my own judgment, coming, perhaps, twenty times a day from her whose care they were as well as mine, was not a matter to smile at, and very great trouble it did give me. My answer at last was, as to the boys, I want them to be _like me_; and as to the girls, In whose hands can they be so safe as in _yours_? Therefore my resolution is taken: _go to school they shall not_.

300. Nothing is much more annoying than the _intermeddling of friends_, in a case like this. The wife appeals _to them_, and '_good breeding_,' that is to say, _nonsense_, is sure to put them on _her side_. Then, they, particularly the _women_, when describing the _surprising progress_ made by their _own sons_ at school, used, if one of mine were present, to turn to him, and ask, to what school _he went_, and what _he_ was _learning_? I leave any one to judge of _his_ opinion of her; and whether _he_ would like her the better for that! 'Bless me, so tall, and _not learned_ any thing _yet_!' 'Oh yes, he has,' I used to say, 'he has learned to ride, and hunt, and shoot, and fish, and look after cattle and sheep, and to work in the garden, and to feed his dogs, and to go from village to village in the dark.' This was the way I used to manage with troublesome customers of this sort. And how glad the children used to be, when they got clear of such criticising people! And how grateful they felt to me for the _protection_ which they saw that I gave them against that state of restraint, of which other people's boys complained! Go whither they might, they found no place so pleasant as home, and no soul that came near them affording them so many means of gratification as they received from me.

301. In this happy state we lived, until the year 1810, when the government laid its merciless fangs upon me, dragged me from these delights, and _crammed me into a jail amongst felons_; of which I shall have to speak more fully, when, in the last Number, I come to speak of the duties of THE CITIZEN. This added to the difficulties of my task of _teaching_; for now I was snatched away from the _only_ scene in which it could, as I thought, properly be executed. But even these difficulties were got over. The blow was, to be sure, a terrible one; and, oh God! how was it felt by these poor children! It was in the month of July when the horrible sentence was passed upon me. My wife, having left her children in the care of her good and affectionate sister, was in London, waiting to know the doom of her husband. When the news arrived at Botley, the three boys, one eleven, another nine, and the other seven, years old, were hoeing cabbages in that garden which had been the source of so much delight. When the account of the savage sentence was brought to them, the youngest could not, for some time, be made to understand what a _jail_ was; and, when he did, he, all in a tremor, exclaimed, 'Now I'm sure, William, that PAPA is not in a place _like that_!' The other, in order to disguise his tears and smother his sobs, fell to work with the hoe, and _chopped about like a blind person_. This account, when it reached me, affected me more, filled me with deeper resentment, than any other circumstance. And, oh! how I despise the wretches who talk of my _vindictiveness_; of my _exultation_ at the confusion of those who inflicted those sufferings! How I despise the base creatures, the crawling slaves, the callous and cowardly hypocrites, who affect to be '_shocked_' (tender souls!) at my expressions of _joy_, and at the death of Gibbs, Ellenborough, Perceval, Liverpool, Canning, and the rest of the tribe that I have already seen out, and at the fatal workings of _that system_, for endeavouring to check which I was thus punished! How I despise these wretches, and how I, above all things, enjoy their ruin, and anticipate their utter beggary! What! I am to forgive, am I, injuries like this; and that, too, without any _atonement_? Oh, no! I have not so read the Holy Scriptures; I have not, from them, learned that I am not to rejoice at the fall of unjust foes; and it makes a part of my happiness to be able _to tell millions of men_ that I do thus rejoice, and that I have the means of calling on so many just and merciful men to rejoice along with me.

302. Now, then, the _book-learning_ was _forced_ upon us. I had a _farm_ in hand. It was necessary that I should be constantly informed of what was doing. I gave _all the orders_, whether as to purchases, sales, ploughing, sowing, breeding; in short, with regard to every thing, and the things were endless in number and variety, and always full of interest. My eldest son and daughter could now write well and fast. One or the other of these was always at Botley; and I had with me (having hired the best part of the keeper's house) one or two, besides either this brother or sister; the mother coming up to town about once in two or three months, leaving the house and children in the care of her sister. We had a HAMPER, with a lock and two keys, which came up once a week, or oftener, bringing me fruit and all sorts of country fare, for the carriage of which, cost free, I was indebted to as good a man as ever God created, the late Mr. GEORGE ROGERS, of Southampton, who, in the prime of life, died deeply lamented by thousands, but by none more deeply than by me and my family, who have to thank him, and the whole of his excellent family, for benefits and marks of kindness without number.

303. This HAMPER, which was always, at both ends of the line, looked for with the most lively feelings, became our _school_. It brought me _a journal_ of _labours_, _proceedings_, and _occurrences_, written on paper of shape and size uniform, and so contrived, as to margins, as to admit of binding. The journal used, when my son was the writer, to be interspersed with drawings of our dogs, colts, or any thing that he wanted me to have a correct idea of. The hamper brought me plants, bulbs, and the like, that I might _see_ the size of them; and always every one sent his or her _most beautiful flowers_; the earliest violets, and primroses, and cowslips, and blue-bells; the earliest twigs of trees; and, in short, every thing that they thought calculated to delight me. The moment the hamper arrived, I, casting aside every thing else, set to work to answer _every question_, to give new directions, and to add anything likely to give pleasure at Botley. _Every_ hamper brought one '_letter_,' as they called it, if not more, from every child; and to _every_ letter I wrote _an answer_, sealed up and sent to the party, being sure that that was the way to produce other and better letters; for, though they could not read what I wrote, and though their own consisted at first of mere _scratches_, and afterwards, for a while, of a few words written down for them to imitate, I always thanked them for their '_pretty letter_'; and never expressed any wish to see them _write better_; but took care to write in a very neat and plain hand _myself_, and to do up my letter in a very neat manner.

304. Thus, while the ferocious tigers thought I was doomed to incessant mortification, and to rage that must extinguish my mental powers, I found in my children, and in their spotless and courageous and most affectionate mother, delights to which the callous hearts of those tigers were strangers. 'Heaven first taught letters for some wretch's aid.' How often did this line of Pope occur to me when I opened the little _spuddling_ 'letters' from Botley! This correspondence occupied a good part of my time: I had all the children with me, turn and turn about; and, in order to give the boys exercise, and to give the two eldest an opportunity of beginning to learn French, I used, for a part of the two years, to send them a few hours in the day to an ABBE, who lived in Castle-street, Holborn. All this was a great relaxation to my mind; and, when I had to return to my literary labours, I returned _fresh_ and cheerful, full of vigour, and _full of hope_, of finally seeing my unjust and merciless foes at my feet, and that, too, without caring a straw on whom their fall might bring calamity, so that my own family were safe; because, say what any one might, the _community, taken as a whole_, had _suffered this thing to be done unto us_.

305. The paying of the work-people, the keeping of the accounts, the referring to books, the writing and reading of letters; this everlasting mixture of amusement with book-learning, made me, almost to my own surprise, find, at the end of the two years, that I had a parcel of _scholars_ growing up about me; and, long before the end of the time, I had _dictated many Registers_ to my two eldest children. Then, there was _copying_ out of books, which taught _spelling correctly_. The calculations about the farming affairs forced arithmetic upon us: the _use_, the _necessity_, of the thing, led to the study. By-and-by, we had to look into the _laws_ to know what to do about the _highways_, about the _game_, about the _poor_, and all rural and _parochial_ affairs. I was, indeed, by the fangs of the government, defeated in my fondly-cherished project of making my sons farmers on their own land, and keeping them from all temptation to seek vicious and enervating enjoyments; but those fangs, merciless as they had been, had not been able to prevent me from laying in for their lives a store of useful information, habits of industry, care, sobriety, and a taste for innocent, healthful, and manly pleasures: the fangs had made me and them pennyless; but, they had not been able to take from us our health or our mental possessions; and these were ready for application as circumstances might ordain.

306. After the age that I have now been speaking of, _fourteen_, I suppose every one _became_ a reader and writer according to fancy. As to _books_, with the exception of the _Poets_, I never bought, in my whole life, any one that I did not _want_ for some purpose of _utility_, and of _practical utility_ too. I have two or three times had the whole collection snatched away from me; and have begun again to get them together as they were wanted. Go and kick an ANT's nest about, and you will see the little laborious, courageous creatures _instantly_ set to work to get it together again; and if you do this ten times over, ten times over they will do the same. Here is the sort of stuff that men must be made of to oppose, with success, those who, by whatever means, get possession of great and mischievous power.

307. Now, I am aware, that that which _I did_, cannot be done by every one of hundreds of thousands of fathers, each of whom loves his children with all his soul: I am aware that the attorney, the surgeon, the physician, the trader, and even the farmer, cannot, generally speaking, do what I did, and that they must, in most cases, send their _sons_ to school, if it be necessary for them to have _book-learning_. But while I say this, I know, that there are _many things_, which I did, which many fathers might do, and which, nevertheless, _they do not do_. It is in the power of _every father_ to live _at home with his family_, when not _compelled_ by business, or by public duty, to be absent: it is in his power to set an example of industry and sobriety and frugality, and to prevent a taste for gaming, dissipation, extravagance, from getting root in the minds of his children: it is in his power to continue to make his children _hearers_, when he is reproving servants for idleness, or commending them for industry and care: it is in his power to keep all dissolute and idly-talking companions from his house: it is in his power to teach them, by his uniform example, justice and mercy towards the inferior animals: it is in his power to do many other things, and something in the way of book-learning too, however busy his life may be. It is completely within his power to teach them early-rising and early going to bed; and, if many a man, who says that he has _not time_ to teach his children, were to sit down, in _sincerity_, with a pen and a bit of paper, and put down all the minutes, which he, in every twenty-four hours, _wastes_ over the _bottle_, or over _cheese_ and _oranges_ and _raisins_ and _biscuits_, _after_ he has _dined_; how many he lounges away, either at the coffee-house or at home, over the _useless_ part of newspapers; how many he spends in waiting for the coming and the managing of the tea-table; how many he passes by candle-light, _wearied of his existence_, when he might be in bed; how many he passes in the morning in bed, while the sun and dew shine and sparkle for him in vain: if he were to put all these together, and were to add those which he passes in the _reading of books_ for his mere personal _amusement_, and without the smallest chance of acquiring from them any _useful_ practical knowledge: if he were to sum up the whole of these, and add to them the time worse than wasted in the contemptible work of dressing off _his person_, he would be frightened at the result; would send for his boys from school; and if greater book-learning than he possessed were necessary, he would choose for the purpose some man of ability, and see the teaching carried on under his own roof, with safety as to morals, and with the best chance as to health.

308. If after all, however, a school must be resorted to, let it, if in your power, be as little populous as possible. As 'evil communications corrupt good manners,' so the more numerous the assemblage, and the more extensive the communication, the greater the chance of corruption. _Jails, barracks, factories_, do not corrupt by their _walls_, but by their condensed numbers. Populous cities corrupt from the same cause; and it is, because _it must be_, the same with regard to schools, out of which children come not what they were when they went in. The master is, in some sort, their enemy; he is their overlooker; he is a spy upon them; his authority is maintained by his absolute power of punishment; _the parent commits them to that power_; to be taught is to be held in restraint; and, as the sparks fly upwards, the teaching and the restraint will not be divided in the estimation of the boy. Besides all this, there is the great disadvantage of _tardiness_ in arriving at years of discretion. If boys live only with boys, their ideas will continue to be boyish; if they see and hear and converse with nobody but boys, how are they to have the thoughts and the character of men? It is, _at last_, only by hearing _men_ talk and seeing men act, that they learn to talk and act like men; and, therefore, to confine them to the society of boys, is to _retard_ their arrival at the years of discretion; and in case of adverse circumstances in the pecuniary way, where, in all the creation, is there so helpless a mortal as a boy who has always been at school! But, if, as I said before, a school there _must_ be, let the congregation be as small as possible; and, do not expect too much from the master; for, if it be irksome to you to teach your own sons, what must that teaching be to him? If he have great numbers, he must delegate his authority; and, like all other delegated authority, it will either be abused or neglected.

309. With regard to _girls_, one would think that _mothers_ would want no argument to make them shudder at the thought of committing the care of their daughters to other hands than their own. If fortune have so favoured them as to make them rationally desirous that their daughters should have more of what are called accomplishments _than_ they _themselves have_, it has also favoured them with the means of having teachers under their own eye. If it have not favoured them so highly as this (and it seldom has in the middle rank of life), what duty so sacred as that imposed on a mother to be the teacher of her daughters! And is she, from love of ease or of pleasure or of any thing else, to neglect this duty; is she to commit her daughters to the care of persons, with whose manners and morals it is impossible for her to be thoroughly acquainted; is she to send them into the promiscuous society of girls, who belong to nobody knows whom, and come from nobody knows whither, and some of whom, for aught she can know to the contrary, may have been corrupted before, and sent thither to be hidden from their former circle; is she to send her daughters to be shut up within walls, the bare sight of which awaken the idea of intrigue and invite to seduction and surrender; is she to leave the health of her daughters to chance, to shut them up with a motley bevy of strangers, some of whom, as is _frequently_ the case, are proclaimed _bastards_, by the undeniable testimony given by the _colour of their skin_; is she to do all this, and still put forward pretensions to the authority and the affection due to a _mother_! And, are you to permit all this, and still call yourself _a father_!

310. Well, then, having resolved to teach your own children, or, to have them taught, at home, let us now see how they ought to proceed as to _books_ for learning. It is evident, speaking of boys, that, at last, they must study the art, or science, that you intend them to pursue; if they be to be surgeons, they must read books on surgery; and the like in other cases. But, there are certain _elementary_ studies; certain books to be used by _all persons_, who are destined to acquire any book-learning at all. Then there are departments, or branches of knowledge, that every man in the middle rank of life, ought, if he can, to acquire, they being, in some sort, necessary to his reputation as a _well-informed_ man, a character to which the farmer and the shopkeeper ought to aspire as well as the lawyer and the surgeon. Let me now, then, offer my advice as to the _course_ of reading, and the _manner_ of reading, for a boy, arrived at his _fourteenth_ year, that being, in my opinion, early enough for him to begin.

311. And, first of all, whether as to boys or girls, I deprecate _romances_ of every description. It is impossible that they can do any _good_, and they may do a great deal of harm. They excite passions that ought to lie dormant; they give the mind a taste for _highly-seasoned_ matter; they make matters of real life insipid; every girl, addicted to them, sighs to be a SOPHIA WESTERN, and every boy, a TOM JONES. What girl is not in love with the _wild_ youth, and what boy does not find a justification for his wildness? What can be more pernicious than the teachings of this celebrated romance? Here are two young men put before us, both sons of the same mother; the one a _bastard_ (and by a parson too), the other a _legitimate child_; the former wild, disobedient, and squandering; the latter steady, sober, obedient, and frugal; the former every thing that is frank and generous in his nature, the latter a greedy hypocrite; the former rewarded with the most beautiful and virtuous of women and a double estate, the latter punished by being made an outcast. How is it possible for young people to read such a book, and to look upon orderliness, sobriety, obedience, and frugality, as _virtues_? And this is the tenor of almost every romance, and of almost every play, in our language. In the 'School for Scandal,' for instance, we see two brothers; the one a prudent and frugal man, and, to all appearance, a moral man, the other a hair-brained squanderer, laughing at the morality of his brother; the former turns out to be a base hypocrite and seducer, and is brought to shame and disgrace; while the latter is found to be full of generous sentiment, and Heaven itself seems to interfere to give him fortune and fame. In short, the direct tendency of the far greater part of these books, is, to cause young people to despise all those virtues, without the practice of which they must be a curse to their parents, a burden to the community, and must, except by mere accident, lead wretched lives. I do not recollect one romance nor one play, in our language, which has not this tendency. How is it possible for young princes to read the historical plays of the punning and smutty Shakspeare, and not think, that to be drunkards, blackguards, the companions of debauchees and robbers, is the suitable beginning of a glorious reign?

312. There is, too, another most abominable principle that runs through them all, namely, that there is in _high birth_, something of _superior nature_, instinctive courage, honour, and talent. Who can look at the two _royal youths_ in CYMBELINE, or at the _noble youth_ in DOUGLAS, without detesting the base parasites who wrote those plays? Here are youths, brought up by _shepherds_, never told of their origin, believing themselves the sons of these humble parents, but discovering, when grown up, the highest notions of valour and honour, and thirsting for military renown, even while tending their reputed fathers' flocks and herds! And, why this species of falsehood? To cheat the mass of the people; to keep them in abject subjection; to make them quietly submit to despotic sway. And the infamous authors are guilty of the cheat, because they are, in one shape or another, paid by oppressors out of means squeezed from the people. A _true_ picture would give us just the reverse; would show us that '_high birth_' is the enemy of virtue, of valour, and of talent; would show us, that with all their incalculable advantages, royal and noble families have, only by mere accident, produced a great man; that, in general, they have been amongst the most effeminate, unprincipled, cowardly, stupid, and, at the very least, amongst the most useless persons, considered as individuals, and not in connexion with the prerogatives and powers bestowed on them solely by the law.

313. It is impossible for me, by any words that I can use, to express, to the extent of my thoughts, the danger of suffering young people to form their opinions from the writings of poets and romances. Nine times out of ten, the morality they teach is bad, and must have a bad tendency. Their wit is employed to _ridicule virtue_, as you will almost always find, if you examine the matter to the bottom. The world owes a very large part of its sufferings to tyrants; but what tyrant was there amongst the ancients, whom the poets did not place _amongst the gods_? Can you open an English poet, without, in some part or other of his works, finding the grossest flatteries of royal and noble persons? How are young people not to think that the praises bestowed on these persons are just? DRYDEN, PARNELL, GAY, THOMSON, in short, what poet have we had, or have we, POPE only excepted, who was not, or is not, a pensioner, or a sinecure placeman, or the wretched dependent of some part of the Aristocracy? Of the extent of the powers of writers in producing mischief to a nation, we have two most striking instances in the cases of Dr. JOHNSON and BURKE. The former, at a time when it was a question whether war should be made on America to compel her to submit to be taxed by the English parliament, wrote a pamphlet, entitled, '_Taxation no Tyranny_,' to urge the nation into that war. The latter, when it was a question, whether England should wage war against the people of France, to prevent them from reforming their government, wrote a pamphlet to urge the nation into _that_ war. The first war lost us America, the last cost us six hundred millions of money, and has loaded us with forty millions a year of taxes. JOHNSON, however, got a _pension for his life_, and BURKE a pension for his life, and for _three lives after his own_! CUMBERLAND and MURPHY, the play-writers, were pensioners; and, in short, of the whole mass, where has there been one, whom the people were not compelled to pay for labours, having for their principal object the deceiving and enslaving of that same people? It is, therefore, the duty of every father, when he puts a book into the hands of his son or daughter, to give the reader a true account of _who_ and _what_ the writer of the book was, or is.

314. If a boy be intended for any particular calling, he ought, of course, to be induced to read books relating to that calling, if such books there be; and, therefore, I shall not be more particular on that head. But, there are certain things, that all men in the middle rank of life, ought to know something of; because the knowledge will be a source of pleasure; and because the want of it must, very frequently, give them pain, by making them appear inferior, in point of mind, to many who are, in fact, their inferiors in that respect. These things are _grammar, arithmetic, history_, accompanied with _geography_ Without these, a man, in the middle rank of life, however able he may be in his calling, makes but an awkward figure. Without _grammar_ he cannot, with safety to his character as a well-informed man, put his thoughts upon paper; nor can he be _sure_, that he is speaking with propriety. How many clever men have I known, full of natural talent, eloquent by nature, replete with every thing calculated to give them weight in society; and yet having little or no weight, merely because unable to put correctly upon paper that which they have in their minds! For me not to say, that I deem _my English Grammar_ the best book for teaching this science, would be affectation, and neglect of duty besides; because I know, that it is the best; because I wrote it for the purpose; and because, hundreds and hundreds of men and women have told me, some verbally, and some by letter, that, though (many of them) at grammar schools for years, they really never _knew_ any thing of grammar, until they studied my book. I, who know well all the difficulties that I experienced when I read books upon the subject, can easily believe this, and especially when I think of the numerous instances in which I have seen _university_-scholars unable to write English, with any tolerable degree of correctness. In this book, the principles are so clearly explained, that the disgust arising from intricacy is avoided; and it is this disgust, that is the great and mortal enemy of acquiring knowledge.

315. With regard to ARITHMETIC, it is a branch of learning absolutely necessary to every one, who has any pecuniary transactions beyond those arising out of the expenditure of his week's wages. All the books on this subject that I had ever seen, were so bad, so destitute of every thing calculated to lead the mind into a knowledge of the matter, so void of principles, and so evidently tending to puzzle and disgust the learner, by their sententious, and crabbed, and quaint, and almost hieroglyphical definitions, that I, at one time, had the intention of writing a little work on the subject myself. It was put off, from one cause or another; but a little work on the subject has been, partly at my suggestion, written and published by Mr. THOMAS SMITH of Liverpool, and is sold by Mr. SHERWOOD, in London. The author has great ability, and a perfect knowledge of his subject. It is a book of principles; and any young person of common capacity, will learn more from it in a week, than from all the other books, that I ever saw on the subject, in a twelve-month.

316. While the foregoing studies are proceeding, though they very well afford a relief to each other, HISTORY may serve as a relaxation, particularly during the study of grammar, which is an undertaking requiring patience and time. Of all history, that of our own country is of the most importance; because, for want of a thorough knowledge of what _has been_, we are, in many cases, at a loss to account for _what is_, and still more at a loss, to be able to show what _ought to be_. The difference between history and romance is this; that that which is narrated in the latter, leaves in the mind nothing which it can apply to present or future circumstances and events; while the former, when it is what it ought to be, leaves the mind stored with arguments for experience, applicable, at all times, to the actual affairs of life. The history of a country ought to show the origin and progress of its institutions, political, civil, and ecclesiastical; it ought to show the effects of those institutions upon the state of the people; it ought to delineate the measures of the government at the several epochs; and, having clearly described the state of the people at the several periods, it ought to show the cause of their freedom, good morals, and happiness; or of their misery, immorality, and slavery; and this, too, by the production of indubitable facts, and of inferences so manifestly fair, as to leave not the smallest doubt upon the mind.

317. Do the histories of England which we have, answer this description? They are very little better than romances. Their contents are generally confined to narrations relating to battles, negociations, intrigues, contests between rival sovereignties, rival nobles, and to the character of kings, queens, mistresses, bishops, ministers, and the like; from scarcely any of which can the reader draw any knowledge which is at all applicable to the circumstances of the present day.

318. Besides this, there is the _falsehood_; and the falsehoods contained in these histories, where shall we find any thing to surpass? Let us take one instance. They all tell us, that William the Conqueror knocked down twenty-six parish churches, and laid waste the parishes in order to make the New Forest; and this in a tract of the very poorest land in England, where the churches must then have stood at about one mile and two hundred yards from each other. The truth is, that all the churches are still standing that were there when William landed, and the whole story is a sheer falsehood from the beginning to the end.

319. But, this is a mere specimen of these romances; and that too, with regard to a matter comparatively unimportant to us. The important falsehoods are, those which misguide us by statement or by inference, with regard to the state of the people at the several epochs, as produced by the institutions of the country, or the measures of the Government. It is always the object of those who have power in their hands, to persuade the people that they are better off than their forefathers were: it is the great business of history to show how this matter stands; and, with respect to this great matter, what are we to learn from any thing that has hitherto been called a history of England! I remember, that, about a dozen years ago, I was talking with a very clever young man, who had read twice or thrice over the History of England, by different authors; and that I gave the conversation a turn that drew from him, unperceived by himself, that he did not know how tithes, parishes, poor-rates, church-rates, and the abolition of trial by jury in hundreds of cases, came to be in England; and, that he had not the smallest idea of the manner in which the Duke of Bedford came to possess the power of taxing our cabbages in Covent-Garden. Yet, this is history. I have done a great deal, with regard to matters of this sort, in my famous History of the PROTESTANT REFORMATION; for I may truly call that famous, which has been translated and published in all the modern languages.