# Letters to Mothers/Letter IX

Part of this text was imported from the Letters to Mothers page at Uncle Tom's Cabin and American Culture hosted by the University of Virginia.
​LETTER IX.
EARLY CULTURE.
WHO can compute the value of the first seven years of life? Who can tell the strength of impressions, made ere the mind is preoccupied, prejudiced or perverted? Especially, if in its waxen state, it is softened by the breath of a mother, will not the seal which she stamps there, resist the mutations of time, and be read before the Throne of the Judge, when the light of this sun and moon, are quenched and extinct?
We are counseled on this point by the humblest analogies. Does not he who would train a dog, or tame a tyger, or exhibit an elephant for gain, begin his system early, before time has rendered the muscles rigid, or rooted ferocity in habit, or set bounds to sagacity by impairing the docile spirit? And is animal nature worthy of more earnest effort than intellectual? or can motives of gain be compared with the hallowed impulses that move parents to seek the good of their offspring?
The husbandman wakes early, though the ​mother sleeps. He scarcely waits for the breath of spring to unbind the soil, ere he marks out his furrow. If he neglected to prepare the ground, he might as well sow his seed by the way-side, or upon the rock. If he deferred the vernal toil, till the suns of summer were high, what right would he have to expect the autumn-harvest, or the winter-store? The florist mingles his compost, he proportions warmth and moisture, he is patient and watchful, observant of the atmosphere and of the seasons, else he knows that his richest bulbs would be cast away. Should the teacher of the infant heart, be less diligent than the corn-planter, or the culturer of a tulip?
The industry displayed in the various trades and occupations, should be a stimulant to the mother, who modifies a material more costly than all others, more liable to destruction by brief neglect. The hammer of the early workman, admonishes her not to wait "till the burden and heat of the day." Is the manufacturer of delicate fabricks inattentive to the nature of the fleece which be purchases, or to the lineage of the flock that produced it? Are not the most refined processes of the loom affected by the character of the leaf on which the silk-worm fed, or the fibre of the flax that is broken like a malefactor upon the wheel? The artizan who is ambitious to spread the most snowy and perfect ​sheet for the writer's pen, is he indifferent whether the, pulp be pure? if he would tinge it with the cerulean or the rose-tint, does he neglect to infuse the colouring matter with the elemental mass? Is the builder of a lofty and magnificent edifice, careless of its foundations, and whether its columns are to rest upon a quicksand, or a quagmire? And should the maternal guardian of an immortal being, be less anxious, less skillful, less scrupulous, than the worker in wool and silk, in linen and paper, or than the artificer in brick and stone? Shall the imperishable gem of the soul, be less regarded than the "wood, bay and stubble," that moulder or consume around it?
Mothers, take into your own hands, the early instruction of your children. Commence with simple stories, from the Scriptures, from the varied annal of history, from your own observation of mankind. Let each illustrate some moral or religious truth, adapted to convey instruction, reproof or encouragement, according to your knowledge of the character and disposition of your beloved students. Care and study may be requisite to select, adapt, and simplify. But can any do this so patiently as a mother, who feels that her listening pupil is a part of herself?
Cultivate in your children, tenderness of conscience, a deep sense of accountability to God, a ​conviction that their conduct must be regulated by duty, and not by impulse. Read to them books of instruction, selected with discrimination, or make use of them as texts for your own commentary. In your teachings of religion, avoid all points of sectarian difference, and found the morality which you inculcate, on the Scriptures of truth. Give one hour every morning, to the instruction of your children, one undivided hour to them alone. Ere they retire, secure, if possible, another portion of equal length. Review what has been learned throughout the day, recall its deeds, its faults, its sorrows, its blessings, to deepen the great lessons of God's goodness and forbearance, or to soothe the little heart into sweet peace with Him, and all the world, ere the eyes close in slumber. Let the simple music of some evening hymn, and their tender prayer of contrition and gratitude close the daily intercourse with your endeared pupils, and see if this system does not render them doubly dear.
Do not deprive them, of these stated seasons of instruction, without the most imperative necessity. Let your youngest share in them, as soon as it opens its bright eyes wider at the words, "shall mother tell a story?" Then the little flower of mind, is ready for a dew-drop. Let it be small, and so fragrant, that another will be desired a the morrow's dawn. Speak of the dove that ​winged its way back to the ark, and of the good man who put forth his hand and drew her in through the window to gladden her sorrowing mate. Tell how the wide, wasting waters swept over a disobedient world. Describe the lonely ark upon the mighty deep, bearing in safety the righteous family, while all the ungodly of the earth were drowned. Speak of the dead of Ararat rising above the dark main, of the exultation of the rescued animals, the warbling song of the birds let loose from their prison, and the higher joy of Noah, and his beloved ones, who knew how to pray and praise their Almighty Deliverer. One sacred story, thus broken into parts, is sufficient for many feedings of the infant mind. Be careful not to surfeit it, nor yet too much to indulge the curiosity of the ear to hear, without awakening the understanding to extract some useful aliment. In the broad range of sacred story, give a prominent place to the life and teachings of our Saviour, to the many forms in which his compassions wrought among the sick, the hungering, and the blind, the tempest-tost, the dying, and the dead, how he loved little children and drew them to his bosom, and blessed when sterner souls forbade their approach.
Not only by the volume of Inspiration, but by their daily intercourse with the animal creation, and from the ever open page of Nature, guide ​them to duty and to God. Take in your arms, their favourite kitten, and pointing out its graceful proportions, teach a lesson of kindness. While the dog sleeps at the feet of his master, tell of the virtues of his race, of their fidelity and enduring gratitude, and bespeak respect for the good qualities of the inferior creation. Teach their little feet to turn aside from the worm, and spare to trample the nest of the toiling ant. Point out the bird, "laying the beams of its chambers" among the green leaves, or the thick grass, and make them shudder at the cruelty which could rifle its treasures. Inspire the with love for all innocent creatures, with admiration for every beautiful thing; for it is sweet to see the principles of love and beauty, leading the new-born soul to its Maker.
As you explain to the young child, the properties of the flower that he holds in his hand, speak with a smile of Him, whose "touch perfumes it and whose pencil paints." Make the voice of the first brook as it murmurs beneath the snow, and the gesture of the waving corn, and the icicle with its pen sharpened by frost, and the sleeted pane with its fantastick tracery, and the nod of the awful forest, and the fixed star on its burning throne, adjuncts in teaching your child the wonderful works of the Almighty.
The Mother who is thus assiduous in the work ​of early education, will find in Poetry an assistant not to be despised. Its melody is like a harp, to the infant ear, like a trumpet stirring up the new-born intellect. It breaks the dream with which existence began, as the clear chirping of the bird wakes the morning sleeper. It seems to be the natural dialect of those powers which are earliest developed. Feeling and Fancy put forth their young shoots ere they are expected, and Poetry bends a spray for their feeblest tendrils, rears a prop for their boldest aspirings.
Even its first intercourse with the young mind, may be for a higher purpose than amusement. Entering the nursery, hand in hand with song, it need not confine itself to unmeaning carols, or to useless echoes. It may be as the sun-beam to the broken soil. Quickening perception, and giving pleasant food to memory, it leads to that inquisitive research, which next to application, ensures proficiency in the more severe sciences, and higher departments of knowledge.
Still, its principal and best affinity is with the heart. Its power of creating tender and indelible impressions, has not always been fully appreciated. This stamps it as an efficient co-adjutor in moral and religious instruction. It comes forth as the usher and ally of the mother. It goes with her into the mental field, in the freshness of the grey dawn, ere tares have sprung up ​to trouble the good seed. It nurtures the listening babe, with the "sweet words of sweetly uttered knowledge." "It holdeth, said Sir Philip Sydney, little children from their play, and old men from the chimney corner." Especially does it prompt the cradle-sleeper to love the God and Father of us all, and as he advances in stature, walks with him amid the charms and harmonies of Nature, speaking the language of a clime, where beauty never fades, and where melody is immortal.
Simple, vocal musick, the mother will be desirous to introduce into her system of early education. Its softening, soothing, cheering influences, have been too often tested to need additional evidence; and its affinity with devotion has been felt by every one who has heard a little group singing their sacred song ere they retired to rest, while even the infant on its mother's knee, imitated her tones, its heart swelling with the spirit of praise, ere the understanding was able to comprehend its dialect.
Yet it was not my intention in this letter, have defined the department of early education but simply to urge mothers to consider it their province. I feel persuaded, that after they have for a few years, superintended daily and systematically, the culture of the beings entrusted them, they would not be willing to exchange it ​for the place, or the power, or the fame of any created being. Yet amid this happiness, who can refrain from trembling at the thought, that every action, every word, even every modification of voice or feature, may impress on the mental tablet of the pupil, traces that shall exist forever.
Other teachers may toil, perhaps in vain, to purify the streams that have grown turbid, or to turn them back from perverted channels. The dominion of the mother is over the fountain, ere it has contracted a stain. Let her not believe that the impressions which she may make in the first years of life, need be slight, or readily effaced by the current of opposing events. The mother of the Rev. John Newton, was assiduous in her instructions, at that early period. It was the only season allotted her for intercourse with him. When he was seven years old, Death summoned her from his side. Faithfully had she laboured to implant principles of piety. After he was withdrawn from her guidance, strong temptation beset him. He yielded, until he became exceedingly degraded. Many sorrows were his portion ere his restitution to virtue. When at length, he became a faithful and laborious divine, he bore witness that the early precepts of his mother, had interposed between him and destruction. In a letter to Dr. Doddridge, he says, "To the care of my mother, I ​owe that bias towards religion, which with the co-operating grace of God, at length reclaimed, and brought me back to the paths of peace." Listen to him still more fully on this subject. "A prudent and pious woman in the capacity of wife and mother, is a greater character than any hero or philosopher, of either ancient, or modern times. The first impressions which children receive in the nursery, under the mother's immediate care, are seldom obliterated. Sooner or later, their influence conduces to form the future life. Though the child trained up in the way he should go, may for a season depart from it, there is always reason to hope that he will be found in it, when he is old. The principles instilled into the mind in infancy, may seem dormant for a while, but the prayers with which the mother watered what she planted there, are as some old writers say, "upon the Lord's file." Times of trouble recall these principles to the mind, and the child thus instructed has something to recur to. Thus it was with me. I was the only son of my mother. She taught me. She prayed for me, and over me. Had she lived to see the misery and wickedness into which I afterwards plunged, I think it would have broken her heart. But in the Lord's time, her prayers were answered. Distress led me to recollect her early care. So was I led to look the right way for help. Happy and honoured is the woman, who is thus qualified to instruct her ​children and does it heartily, in the spirit of faith and prayer."
Friends! Mothers! how long will it be, ere we shall be removed from our stewardship? ere a stranger may be seated where we have been wont to preside at the table, and the hearthstone? How brief will be the interval ere the infants that we now caress, shall be rocking the cradle of their own infants, or treading like us the threshold of that house of forgetfulness, whence there is no return? Bound on this ceaseless, unresting march in the footsteps of buried generations, enlisted in that warfare whence there is no discharge, let us on whom such pressing responsibilities devolve, take as our motto, "what thou doest, do quickly."
The dews of the morning are scarcely more fleeting, than the plastick period of the minds on which we operate. Every day removes them further from our jurisdiction. The companions with whom they are to associate, the world in which they are to act, hasten onward with opposing influences, and an indurating power. Now, while the garden of the soul is ours, let us give diligence to implant the germs of holy principle, of unswerving goodness, of humble piety, of the fear of sin, of faith in the Redeemer. "Now, while it is called to-day."
God in bestowing on us the privileges of being ​mothers, has nothing higher in reserve for us, till we take the nature and the harp of seraphs. Then, as we stand adoring near the Throne, may the chorus of our joyful song be, "Lo, here are the children whom thou hast graciously given thy servants. Not one is lost."