“And now, my little honest girl,” said the gentleman who had admired her brother’s scotcher, turning to Anne, “and now tell me who you are, and what you and your brother want or wish for most in the world.”
In the same moment Anne and Paul exclaimed, “The thing we wish for the most in the world is a blanket for our grandmother.”
“She is not our grandmother in reality, I believe, sir,” said Paul; “but she is just as good to us, and taught me to read, and taught Anne to knit, and taught us both that we should be honest — so she has; and I wish she had a new blanket before next winter, to keep her from the cold and the rheumatism. She had the rheumatism sadly last winter, sir; and there is a blanket in this street that would be just the thing for her.”
“She shall have it, then; and,” continued the gentleman, “I will do something more for you. Do you like to be employed or to be idle best?”
“We like to have something to do always, if we could, sir,” said Paul; “but we are forced to be idle sometimes, because grandmother has not always things for us to do that we CAN do well.”
“Should you like to learn how to make such baskets as these?” said the gentleman, pointing to one of the Dunstable straw-baskets. “Oh, very much!” said Paul. “Very much!” said Anne.
“Then I should like to teach you how to make them,” said the basket- woman; “for I’m sure of one thing, that you’d behave honestly to me.”
The gentleman put a guinea into the good natured basket-woman’s hand, and told her that he knew she could not afford to teach them her trade for nothing. “I shall come through Dunstable again in a few months,” added he; “and I hope to see that you and your scholars are going on well. If I find that they are, I will do something more for you.”
“But,” said Anne, “we must tell all this to grandmother, and ask her about it; and I’m afraid — though I’m very happy — that it is getting very late, and that we should not stay here any longer.”
“It is a fine moonlight night,” said the basket-woman; “and is not far.
I’ll walk with you, and see you safe home myself.”
The gentleman detained them a few minutes longer, till a messenger whom he had dispatched to purchase the much wished for blanket returned.
“Your grandmother will sleep well upon this good blanket, I hope,” said the gentleman, as he gave it into Paul’s opened arms. “It has been obtained for her by the honesty of her adopted children.”
HARRY AND LUCY: BEING THE FIRST PART OF EARLY LESSONS
Early Lessons first appeared in 1801 in ten small volumes, printed for Joseph Johnson. Two of the volumes contained the beginning of the long saga of Harry and Lucy, three contained the earliest episodes of Rosamond, four were filled with the adventures of Frank, and the final volume contained three stories, The Little Dog Trusty, The Orange Man and The Cherry Orchard. These ten volumes were small enough to be held in the hand and they were printed in the sort of large print that would appeal to a child, though such a format must have been expensive and by 1815 Early Lessons was reduced to just two volumes and a much larger format. This smaller print meant that all the stories remained in place.
Edgeworth’s children’s stories are generally contrived, aiming to teach a particular lesson, but the reader’s interest is held by characters with whom it is possible to sympathise and the familiar settings in which the young readers might easily imagine themselves. Edgeworth uses everyday life as the backdrop of her tales, deliberately portraying girls and boys, rich and poor, urban and rural, so that any reader can find someone to identify with in each collection. The congeniality of the protagonists was also a product of Edgeworth's skill in delineating her characters.
Edgeworth's earnings from her children's books were considerable. She compiled an account of how much she received for each title in 1842. Although the first volume of Early Lessons only earned her £50, the first sequel Rosamond went on to earn as much as £420, and the next sequel Frank secured a further £400.
The first edition
CONTENTS
PART I.
GLOSSARY OR, DICTIONARY OF WORDS.
PART II.
PART III. NOTE TO PARENTS.
PART III.
PART IV.
ADDRESS TO MOTHERS.
In offering these little books to those kind mothers, who attend to the early instruction of their children, the authors beg leave to prefix a few observations on early education, which have occurred to them, since the former parts of these books were published.
We found, to our high gratification, during a visit, which we lately paid to England, that the attention of parents, in every rank of society, was turned to the early education of their children.
Formerly, a child was left, during the first eight or ten years, to chance, in every part of its education, except its book, and keeping its clothes clean — the mother or the nursery maid attended to the latter, for their own sakes — the father, remembering the praises that had been bestowed upon himself, when he was a child, was anxious that his son should learn to read as soon as possible.
The object was to cram children with certain common-places of knowledge, to furnish them with answers to ready-made questions, to prove that the teachers, whether parent, schoolmaster, or private tutor, had kept the pupil’s memory, at least, at hard work, and had confined his limbs and his mind, for many hours in the day to study.
At present, the attention of parents is more extended; they endeavor to give their pupils reasonable motives for industry and application. They watch the tempers and dispositions of children; they endeavor to cultivate the general powers of the infant understanding, instead of laboring incessantly to make them reading, writing, and calculating machines.
To assist them in these views, parents have now a number of excellent elementary books. Such a variety of these have of late years been published, that, by a proper use of them, more general knowledge can now be acquired, by a child, with two hours’ daily application, than could have been acquired, fifty years ago, by the constant labor of ten hours in the four and twenty.
There are persons, who think that the ease with which knowledge is thus obtained, and its dispersion through the wide mass of society, is unfavorable to the advancement of science; that knowledge easily acquired is easily lost; that it makes scarcely any salutary impression upon the mind, impeding, instead of invigorating its native force! they assert, that the principal use of early learning is to inure the young mind to application; and that the rugged path of scholastic discipline taught the foot of the learner to tread more firmly, and hardened him to bear the labor of climbing the more difficult ascents of literature and science.
Undoubtedly, the infant mind should be inured to labor; but it can scarcely be denied, that it is better to bestow that labor upon what is within the comprehension of a child, than to cram its memory with what must be unintelligible. A child is taught to walk upon smooth ground: and no persons, in their senses, would put an infant on its legs, for the first time, on rugged rocks.
It seems to be a very plain direction to a teacher, to proceed from what is known to the next step, which is not known; but there are pedagogues, who choose the retrograde motion, of going from what is little known to what is less known. Surely a child may be kept employed, and his faculties may he sufficiently exercised, by gradual instruction, on subjects suited to his capacity, where every step advances; and where the universal and rational incentive to application, success, is perceived by the learner.
So far from thinking, that there is a royal road to any science, I believe that the road must be long, but I do not think it need be rugged; I am convinced, that a love for learning may be early attained, by making it agreeable; that the listless idleness of many an excellent scholar arises, not from aversion to application, but from having all the family of pain associated with early instruction. By pain, I do not merely mean the pain of corporal correction, or of any species of direct punishment. Even where parents have
not recourse to these, they often associate pain indissolubly with literature, by compelling children to read that which they cannot understand. One of the objects of this address to mothers is to deprecate this practice, and to prevent this evil in future. Let me most earnestly conjure the parents and teachers, into whose hands these little volumes may come, to lay any of them aside immediately, that is not easily understood; a time will come, when that which is now rejected may be sought for with avidity. I am particularly anxious upon this subject, because we have found, from experience, that Early Lessons are not arranged in the order, in which, for the facility of the learner they ought to be read. In fact, the order, in which they were first published, was the order of time in which they were written, and not of the matter which they contained. The first part of Harry and Lucy was written by me thirty-four years before Frank and Rosamond were written by my daughter. Frank is the easiest to be understood, and should therefore have come first; after Frank, the first part of Harry and Lucy; then Rosamond; and, lastly, the second part of Harry and Lucy, which was written long after the first part had been published. This latter part should not be put into the hands of pupils before they are eight years old. We have heard children say, ‘We love little Frank, because it is easy; but we hate Harry and Lucy, because it is difficult.’ We defer implicitly to their opinion; well educated children are, in fact, the best judges of what is fit for children. Moliere’s hackneyed old woman was not so good a critic of comedy, as a child of eight years old might be of books for infants.
Whenever, therefore, a child, who has in general a disposition for instruction, shows a dislike for any book, lay it a side at once, without saying anything upon the subject; and put something before him, that is more to his taste. For instance, in the following little books, different parts of them are suited to the tastes of different children, as well as to children of different ages. It is therefore strongly recommended to parents, to select what they find upon trial to be the best for their immediate purpose, and to lay aside the rest for another opportunity. We have repeatedly heard parents and teachers complain of the want of books for their pupils; can there be a better proof of the general improvement, that has taken place of late years, in the modes of instruction, than this desire for early literature. When I was a child, I had no resource but Newbury’s little books and Mrs. Teachum; and now when every year produces something new, and something good, for the supply of juvenile libraries, there is still an increasing demand for children’s books. In a selection of this sort, teachers of prudence and experience are cautious not to be deceived by a name, or by an alluring title-page; they previously examine what they put into the hands of their scholars; they know that want of information in a child is preferable to confused and obscure instruction; that, for their pupils to know any one thing well, and to be able to convey to others in appropriate language, the little knowledge which they may have acquired, is far preferable to a string of ready-made answers to specific questions, which have been merely committed to memory; that an example of proper conduct, of a noble sentiment, the glow of enthusiasm, raised by a simple recital of a generous action, have more influence upon the tempers and understanding of children, than the most pompous harangues of studied eloquence.
In choosing books for young people, the enlightened parent will endeavor to collect such as tend to give general knowledge, and to strengthen the understanding. Books, which teach particular sciences, or distinct branches of knowledge, should be sparingly employed. In one word, the mind should be prepared for instruction; the terms of every art and every science should, in some degree, be familiar to the child, before anything like a specific treatise on the subject should be read. It is by no means our intention to lay down a course of early instruction, or to limit the number of books, that may, in succession, be safely put into the hands of the pupil. Mrs. Barbauld’s ‘Lessons for Children from three to four years old,’ have obtained a prescriptive pre-eminence in the nursery. These are fit for a child’s first attempts to read sentences; and they go on, in easy progression, to such little narratives as ought to follow. Her eloquent hymns may next be; read. They give an early taste for the sublime language and feelings of devotion. Scriptural stories have been selected in some little volumes: these may succeed to Mrs. Barbauld’s hymns. No narrative makes a greater impression upon the mind than that of Joseph and his brethren: — not the story of Joseph, expanded and adorned by what is falsely called fine writing; but the history of Joseph in the book of Genesis.
When children can read fluently, the difficulty is not to supply them with entertaining books, but to prevent them from reading too much and indiscriminately. To give them only such as cultivate the moral feelings, and create a taste for knowledge, while they, at the same time, amuse and interest. A few, and quite sufficient for this purpose, may be named; for instance, ‘Fabulous Histories ‘Evenings at Home;’ ‘Berquin’s Children’s Friend;’ ‘Sandford and Merton;’ ‘Little Jack f ‘The Children’s Miscellany;’ ‘Bob the Terrier;’ ‘Dick the Pony;’ ‘The Book of Trades;’
‘The Looking-glass, or History of a young Artist;’ ‘Robinson Crusoe;’ ‘The Travels of Rolando;’ a book which I mention with some hesitation, because, though it contains much knowledge, collected from various authors, yet it is too much mixed with fiction. ‘Mrs. Wakefield on Instinct’ I name with more confidence, because the facts and the fiction are judiciously separated; so that the reader is in no danger of mistaking truth for falsehood. To this juvenile library, perhaps, may be added parts of ‘White’s Natural History of Selbourne;’ and parts of! Smellie’s Philosophy of Natural History.’
These books are not here named in the order in which they should be read; that must vary according to the tastes and capacities of the pupils, and according to various accidental circumstances, which it is impossible to foresee or enumerate. But here it is necessary to observe, that scarcely any one of these books will probably be suited, in every part, to any child. Children should not be forced to read a book through, but suffered to pass over what they do not understand, and to select that which suits their tastes, which will generally be found to be what they perfectly comprehend. There is no danger that this permission should lead to a taste for desultory reading, if the pupils are confined to a certain collection of books. They will, at different ages, and as their knowledge enlarges recur to those parts of the books which they had rejected; and, the taste for reading in creasing, they will, in time, become perfectly acquainted with everything worth attention in their juvenile library. — For instance, that excellent work, ‘Evenings at Home,’ contains lessons and narratives, suited to different capacities, from seven or eight, to twelve or thirteen years of age. It would be highly injurious to the work and to the young readers, to insist, or even to permit, that the whole should be perused at an age, when the whole cannot be understood. The same may be said of ‘The Children’s Friend,’ and ‘Sandford and Merton,’ the last volume of which is suited to young men at college; while parts of the first two are fit for children of seven or eight, and other parts for ten or twelve years old. In these books, the selection may be safely trusted to the young readers; in others, the selection must be made by the parent or teacher: for instance, in ‘Smellie’s Philosophy of Natural History,’ where there will be found many, entertaining and instructive facts, suited to children from eight to ten years, mixed with a great deal, both of what they cannot understand, and of what they ought not to read.
The ‘Book of Trades’ we have just mentioned as a most useful book, and it should always precede Joyce’s ‘Scientific Dialogues.’ Mr. Joyce has contributed much to the ease of scientific instruction; and parents should do the author the justice not to put his books too early into the hands of children.
But no book, on scientific subjects, that has vet fallen into our hands, exceeds Mrs. Marcet’s ‘Chemical Dialogues.’ Some of the facts which it contains will undoubtedly be remembered; but it is not for the chemical facts, that this book is so highly v
aluable, as for the clear and easy reasoning, by which the reader is led from one proposition to another. I speak from experience: one of my children had early acquired such an eager taste for reading, as had filled her mind with a multitude of facts, and images, and words, which prevented her from patient investigation, and from those habits of thinking, and that logical induction, without which, no science, nor any series of truths, can be taught. The ‘Chemical Dialogues’ succeeded in giving a turn to the thoughts of my pupil, which has produced the most salutary effects in her education. Romantic ideas, poetic images, and some disdain of common occupations, seemed to clear away from her young mind; and the chaos of her thoughts formed a new and rational arrangement. The child was ten years old at the time of which I speak, and from that period her general application has not been diminished, but whatever she reads, poetry, history, belles lettres, or science, everything seems to find its proper place, and to improve whilst it fills her mind. There is still wanting a series of little books, preparatory to Joyce’s ‘Scientific Dialogues.’ No attempt, humble as it may appear, requires so much skill or patience, nor could anything add more effectually to the general improvement of the infant understanding than such a work. The elementary knowledge, which such books should endeavor to inculcate, must be thinly scattered in entertaining stories; not with a view to teach in play, but with the hope of arresting, for a few moments, that volatile attention, which becomes tired with sober, isolated instruction.
Some years since, I wrote ‘Poetry explained for Children,’ and I have found it highly useful in my own family. It has not, however, been much called for. It is, therefore, reasonably to be supposed, that it has not been well executed. Such a book is certainly wanting; and if it became popular, it would be of more service in education, than pa rents are well aware of. Nothing is earlier taught to children than extracts from poetry; they are easily got by heart. If a child has a tolerable memory, a good ear, and a pleasing voice, the parents are satisfied, and the child is extolled for its recitation. Nine limes out often, the sense of what is thus got by rote is neglected or misunderstood, and the little actor acquires the pernicious habit of reading fluently and committing to memory what it does not comprehend. There is still something worse in this practice. The understanding is left dormant, while the memory is too much exercised; whereas the object most desirable is to strengthen the memory, only by storing it with useful and accurate knowledge.
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