i ''iip Jj^^jn^r! i !^(fM0 mii. ^mi M* LC 268 — Q. n 1 J-lu - * * — 9 Wl O \J'0 ■ Southern Branch of the University of California Los Angeles Form L I LC This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. AUG 6 ^^ NOV 1 1^;^,, ^^^ ^7 1925 MAY 2 1 ^y-^ ? 1930 5wi-8,'21 MORAL INSTRUCTION ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 1Boo\\^ of fIDoval Xeesons. YOUTHS NOBLE PATH. By F. J. Gould. A volume of Moral Instruction De- signed for the use of Children, Parents, and Teachers, and mainly based on Eastern Tradition, Poetry, and History. 2s. Longmam. OUR E.MPIRE. By F. J. Gould. A booklet for Teachers, Parents, and Young People; containing geographical and historical notes, illustrating the duties of citizenship in the British Empire ; suitable for home reading, and for use in school, especially in connection with the celebration of Empire Day. Is. Loit^^mans. MORAL INSTRUCTION AND TRAINING IN SCHOOLS. Report of an Inter- national Inquirj'. Edited, on behalf of the Committee, by M. E. Sadler, C.B. In Two Volumes. Crown 8vo, 5s. net each. Vol. I. THE UNITED KINGDO.M. Vou II. FOREIGN AND COLONIAL. Longmans. CHARACTER FORMING IN SCHOOL. By F. H. Ellis. WITH 18 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 3s. Longmans. STORY LESSONS ON CHARACTER-BUILDING (MORALS) AND MANNERS. By Lois Bates. Cr. 8vo, 2s. Longmans THE GARDEN OF CHILDHOOD. By Alice M. Chesterton. With Illustrations by Gertrude M. Bradley. Based on the section for Infants of the League's Syllabus. Is. 6d. net. Nelson, THE PANSY PATCH. By Alice .M. Chesterton. With Illustrations. Based on Standards I. and II. of Syllabus. Is. 6d. net. Xelson THE MAGIC GARDEN. By Alice M. Chesterton. With Illustrations. Based on Standard III. of Sj'Wa6i/s. ls.6d.net. Nelson. A TEACHERS HANDBOOK OF MORAL LESSONS. By A. J. Waldegrave. Based on Standard V. of Syllabus. Is. 6d. net. Nelson. LESSONS IN CITIZENSHIP. By A. J. Waldegrave. Based on Standard VII. of the Syllabus. Is. 6d. net. Nelson. A MANUAL OF MORAL INSTRUCTION. Covering all the Sections of the Syllabus, according to the concentric plan. By James Reid, M.A. 2s. 6d. net. Nelson. LIFE AND MANNERS. By F. J. Gould. A volume of Stories suitable for the Moral Instruction of Children. With an Introduction on Aim and Methods. For children 10-14 years. 2s.6d.net. George Allen. CONDUCT STORIES. By F. J. Gould. A volume of Stories for the Moral Instruc- tion of Children. With an Introductory chapter on the art of telling Stories. For children 10-14 years. 2s. 6d. net. George Allen. STORIES FOR YOUNG HEARTS AND MINDS. By F. J. Gould. For children 10-14 years. 2s.6d.net. George Allen. THE ART OF LIVING. Translated from the German of Dr. Fr. W. Foerster by Ethel L. Peck. Sources and Illustrations for Moral Lessons. 2s. 6d. net. Dent. THE CHILDREN'S BOOK OF MORAL LESSONS. By F. J. Gould. (First Series: "Self-Control" and "Truthfulness"; Second Series: "Kindness" and " Work and Duty " ; Third Series : " The Family " and " People of other Lands " ; Fourth Series: "Justice," "The Common Weal," "Our Country," "Social Re- sponsibilities," "Political and Industrial Progress," etc.). For children 10-14 years. Is. net. Watts. STORIES FOR MOR.\L INSTRUCTION. By F. J. Gould. Is. net. Watts. THE CHILDREN'S PLUTARCH. By F. J. Gould. With six full-page Illustrations by Walter Crane. With index of ethical subjects. 2s. 6d. net Watts. ^^ MORAL INSTRUCTION ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE F. J. GOULD AUTHOR OF " THE CHILDREN'S BOOK OF MORAL LESSONS," " YOUTH'S NOBLE PATH, " ETC. 2 ^ 3 S-^ PUBLISHED UNDER THE AUSPICES OF THE MORAL ED UCA TION LEAGUE, L ON DON LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO. 39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON NEW YORK, BOMBAY AND CALCUTTA 1913 TO F. H. HAYWAED, D.Lit., M.A., B.Sc. WHO ENCOURAGED ME PREFACE. The questions discussed in this book are so important, and the value of the judgments expressed in it is so dependent upon the character of the writer's antece- dent experiences, that it may be well to state succinctly the measure and nature of my career as a teacher, and as an advocate of certain teaching methods. Beginning as a monitor, in 1871, in the excellent National (that is, Church of England) School at the village of Chenies, Buckinghamshire, I taught in ele- mentary schools without a break till I resigned from the service of the London School Board in 1896. From Chenies I proceeded to another Buckinghamshire village, Great Missenden, where I worked as head- teacher of the Church School for two years. This rural scenery was exchanged for the more difficult environment of London, where I taught classes of some- what poor boys for eight years in Bethnal Green, and still poorer boys in Limehouse for another eight years. In a variety of Sunday schools I taught on a simple ethical basis from 1893 to 1910. As a member of the Leicester School Board (1901-3) and of the Leicester Town Council for several years subsequently, I viii PEEFACE systematically visited the schools of the town, — thirty Council schools, thirty Denominational. During a period of some ten or eleven years in the same town, I conducted classes in psychology, history, economics, etc., the members being young men and women employed in local industries. Having assisted in the foundation of the Moral Instruction (later, Education) League in 1897, 1 occasionally delivered model lessons in public on its behalf, and from March, 1910, onwards I have acted as official demonstrator and lecturer for the League, and in that capacity have delivered lessons in numerous towns in England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland ; in New York, Boston, Providence, Phila- delphia, Chicago, Madison ; and before the members of the first International Moral Education Congress, held at the London University, 1908, and the Second Con- gress held at The Hague, 1912. The meetings, which were associated in nearly all cases with discus- sion, purely educational or perhaps controversial, took place before Sunday-school teachers, drawing-room audiences, working-class audiences, Indian ladies and gentlemen, Jewish teachers, branches of the National Union of Teachers, branches of the Parents' National Educational Union, the students of many Church of England, Wesleyan, Unitarian, and Municipal Training Colleges, and thousands of elementary school-teachers by arrangement of Local Education Authorities. It would be too long a tale to tell how I have been humbled or exalted by the criticisms and comments, at the innumerable discussions I have held with PEEFACE ix teachers, professors, and clergymen, or by the criti- cisms and comments bestowed by reviewers upon my series of moral lesson-books for young people. And not without emotion do I recall the hundreds of groups of girls and boys (including a few negro children in the United States) with whom I have been privileged to spend happy hours of conversation, both grave and gay, on themes of personal and social conduct. It is on the strength of these experiences, and of much study during my whole teaching life, that I venture to unfold my thoughts and suggestions in this book on Moral Instruction, its Theory and Practice. Nevertheless, if the foregoing recital of doings and opportunities leads the reader to expect that I shall claim to have initiated a novel method of moral edu- cation, he is greatly mistaken. There is here nothing new. In the presence of teachers who could put my words to the test on the spot, I have over and over again affirmed that my teaching was, in the strict sense of the term, antiquated ; that is to say, it consists in the employment of t he concrete and dramatic manner which is illustrated by ancient poets as well as modern, by the narratives and parables of the Bible or the Talmud, by ballad-singers and story-tellers of the Middle Ages, and by allegorists such as Comenius and Bunyan. It conveys "truth, embodied in a tale," under such psychological conditions as the child's ca- pacity of understanding demands. The lessons re- produced in Part II. will amply bear out my assertion that I offer no educational novelty. What, perhaps, I X PEEFACE may claim is that I have reminded educationists of simple, fundamental principles which, in the somewhat unnatural rush of overcrowded time-tables, we are all apt to forget ; and along with that effort to get back to more direct action in moral teaching, I have, it may be, combined a certain enthusiasm and freshness ; at least, I hope so. As to the contents of the theoretical Part I., includ- ing the elaborate correlation scheme in the third sec- tion, all I have set out to do is to formulate what has been, I think, the latent tendency of modern educational thought. We all believe to-day in evolution, in spon- taneity, in faith in the child's humanity, in personal self-development, in the march towards civic ideals, in colour, in discovery, in life. I go with the rest. Per- chance I help to make the general movement more self- conscious and more systematic. In any case, the longer I teach the more pressingly I feel how limited we all are in our educational outlook, and how feeble is our wit in detecting the powers of the child-soul, and in imagining the splendid destinies of mankind. F. J. GOULD. Moral Education Leagde, 6 York Buildings, Adblphi, London. February, 1913. CONTENTS. PAET I. THEORY. PAGE The Aim of the Book 1 The Teacher is but one of many Factors .... 2 Mother-power ......... 4 Correlation with a View to Character-training ... 5 Character .......... 15 jMoral Instruction through Incidents ..... 18 I** ^Stages of Moral Instruction ....... 21 / The Ideal of Self-realization 27 The Paramount need of a Single Aim in Moral Teaching . 30 /Systematic Moral Instruction ...... 32 ••Concrete Illustration , . . . . . . .37 / The Uses of Legend 43 The Method of Negation and Censure 48 Obedience .......... 51 The Positive Method 55 Should the Child's Universe Supply most of the Examples ? . 61 The Choice of Stories ........ 65 Good Children need Moral Instruction 68 Contrariance 71 Dangers of Emotionalism ....... 74 Thinking 76 "Doing" 80 The Will 82 The Esthetic Aspect 87 Class-methods and Lesson-construction ..... 90 xi Xll CONTENTS PAGE Lessons are Necessarily Incomplete . . . . .97 The Teacher 100 Education Lifelong 107 Symbolism and Ceremonial ....... 112 PART II. PRACTICE. Annotated outlines of Lessons, illustrating the Method of Direct Moral Instruction : — I. Self-control II. Courage III. Truthfuhiess IV. Kindness V. Respect VL The Public Good VII. Humble Material VIII. Loss and Gain IX. Self X. Character 123 133 139 145 151 160 168 174 181 187 PAKT I. THEOEY. The Aim of the Book. — Education trains for life ; moral education trains for the good life. Of that good life moral instruction is the logical and systematic pre- sentation to the child's feeling, imagination, and reason. The special purpose of this book is to set out the nature of moral instruction, and its bearings on moral educa- tion. Some preliminary reflections on moral education ^■. will therefore be necessary. ^ Moral education is such a training in the service of the larger life as involves personal hygiene, self-develop- ment and character building. It may be vs^ell to meet at once a question which would otherwise shadow our steps through the whole of this inquiry ; that is to say, the question as to how far the teacher and the child must attach the idea of right conduct to the idea of duty towards God. Since my object is to aiford practical aid to teachers, no matter whether they regard the will of God, or the welfare of Humanity, or the Ethical Ideal as the ultimate sanction, I have defined moral education in terms which may harmonize the views of these three schools of thought. All are agreed that no man ought to live unto himself ; that the individual experience must be correlated with 1 2 MOKAL INSTEUCTION: a wider and superior existence ; and that whether the prime maxim takes the form of Fear God and keep His commandments ; or, Herein is my Father glorified, that ye hear much fruit, so shall ye be my disciples ; or, Live for others : family, country, humanity ; or, In the truly moral nature, every idea of the good becomes a neces- sity, every thought of the higher a command — the call is to service of a Supreme. The reader who seeks for occasion of religious controversy should proceed no farther. Grounds for educational controversy will cer- tainly disclose themselves to the attentive reader of the following pages; and, no doubt, a man bent on "re- ligious" disputation, sincere or insincere, could find material in what I shall say on the theme of child-train- ing. For such illegitimate uses of this book I decline responsibility, my object being to assist in clearing the judgment of educationists and of parents, and in pro- viding hints and counsel as to living, dramatic and effective methods of instruction. The Teacher is but One of Many Factors. — In moments of enthusiasm, the educator may be inclined to magnify his office, and imagine that he can mould the child as the potter the clay. In moments of depres- sion he casts the blame of failure upon the ill-regulated home, the social environment, evil industrial conditions, and the rest. But when an experienced teacher looks round upon the world in which men and women, formerly his scholars, are playing noble, or ignoble, or indifferent parts, as the case may be, he may only share a certain proportion of the praise, or of the blame. The home furnishes a powerful auxiliary, or perhaps a power- ful opposition. The church or the social institute has ITS THEOEY AND PKACTICE 3 contributed to the uplift. Art in its many fair forms has succeeded or failed. The pursuit of science has attrac- ted the young soul, or has exercised no charm. Political ideals or low political views have enkindled or debased. Favourable or wretched economic conditions have pro- vided or withheld the material basis which makes the knightly and spiritual life possible. The glories of nature appealed or were without a message. Modesty forbids the teacher to claim happy results which may be in more or less degree due to any of these agencies on their bene- ficent side ; and common sense restrains him from self- reproach for results that accrue from forces that act outside the narrow circle of the school. If he makes his own tools efficient, his conscience is clear as to the rest. But this at least may be added — that, by all possible channels, the teacher should keep in communication with the great world outside. His interest in the social order and progress, in local and national institutions, in the political development of his country, in the general economic betterment, should be of the active and per- sonal character which renders him, in the finest sense, a citizen of the world. If one may idealize the term politician, then it may be urged that every teacher should be a politician. It has too often been a besetting sin in teachers that they led a cloistered life, and mingled too seldom in the civic assembly, and dwelt too remote from the exchange of ideas and the affairs of the common- wealth. It would be a great step gained if teachers held periodical conference with the more enlightened civic administrators, business-men, and social workers of their district, in order to preserve a healthy relation be- tween the school and the city or county. Municipal 4 MOEAL INSTEUCTION: officers, industrial captains, and the representatives of working-men's associations could impart many a help- ful suggestion, or reveal many a fresh standpoint, to the educators of the young citizen. Mother=power. — The nineteenth century introduced the State-school system into the chief countries of the civilized world, and, on the whole, the results are satisfactory. The original faults of rigidity are slowly disappearing, and the over-stress on book-work and desk-work is visibly lessening. We have yet, however, to awaken to our sin of neglect towards the fathers and mothers whose children have been so peremptorily an- nexed by the public officials. Persons in authority often congratulate themselves on the marked willingness with which the average citizen now sends his little sons and daughters to school, and they occasionally compliment the parents on their loyal compliance with the law. But this is an unfinished and perfunctory attitude of mind, and suggests the bureaucrat rather than the educator. In the United States the parent is welcomed as a visitor to the class-room, and the kindergarten mistresses fre- quently meet the mothers in friendly reunions. These most excellent customs should be made universal, and no officialism should be allowed to stand in the way of the free entry of mothers and fathers. Parents of ele- mentary-school children should form the majority on the committee of visitors attached to each school. But a farther stride is needed. Younger and elder girls should be allowed and encouraged to take an auxiliary part in teaching and amusing infants, with the distinct object of enabling them, in later years, to do effective work in the moral, aesthetic, and physical training of their own ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 5 children, or in families which would gladly avail them- selves of such voluntary (or paid) assistance. The mother'sinfluence over a little child is naturally'the most potent of all. At present we let this splendid material run largely to waste, on the pretence that the college- trained mistress is alone capable of handling the child's soul and temperament. The college-trained mistress should be regarded rather as the valuable professional aid to the mother than as an official autocrat over some- body else's child. We shall retain our infants' schools and kindergartens, and we shall welcome the noble ser- vice of the women teachers ; but we must develop the relation between the school and the home, and utilize the half-forgotten mother-power. As one example of the development of this relation it may be suggested that mothers (and fathers also, of course) should be in- vited to attend the moral instruction lessons which it is the aim of this book to raise to the prime rank in the school curriculum. Here is the ground which affords the finest meeting place of the sympathies of parents and teachers. At this point, more than at any other, they should best understand their joint responsibilities and their high calling towards the child, the country, and humanity. Correlation with a View to Character-training. — The aim of the present book is the modest one of exposing the theory and illustrating the practice of moral instruc- tion ; and the immense field of moral education must, to a large extent, remain unexplored. Nevertheless, the hum- blest act of teaching should be illumined by the central light of a philosophy. Since instruction is the logic, and therefore an essential expression of general training, the 6 MOEAL INSTRUCTION : teacher who deals with the direct issues of personal control, honour, kindliness, and the rest of the ethical qualities, should connect his work with the whole syn- thesis of education. The subject of conduct cannot ade- quately be treated in isolation from the complete scheme of school-teaching (and home-teaching), any more than the school itself can be efficient when it is not definitely related to life, and life's activities and life's ideals. Merely on technical grounds the moral instructor (as- suming him to be a special teacher of ethical themes) should be acquainted with the curriculum which provides his young listeners with their store of ideas, imagina- tions, and sentiments ; for these things are his raw material. But he ought also to know what are the moral issues that have been casually presented to the child's observation during the course of study in geography, history, nature-study, literature, and the rest. And if, as is far preferable, the same teacher conducts the entire round of instruction, then it should be his object, all the time, so to arrange his lessons and so provide facts and suggestions as to emphasize the human aspect of all topics, and thus gradually prepare the ground- work of direct moral instruction. In other words the training of good character should be made the supreme end of the physical, intellectual, and occupational lessons and discipline. In this sense it may be said that we ought to aboHsh all time-tables which allot " subjects " to separate hours, and which cre?te the disastrous impression that life is made up of a series of psychological chambers divided by rectangular lines. In this sense, geography, history, literature, science, etc., should be obliterated as academic ITS, THEOEY AND PEACTICE 7 abstractions, leaving only a great world of duty, and a valiant young soul who is willing to tread its arduous roads, — When duty whispers low, "Thou must," The youth replies, " I can ". Or, to put the case in another form, the curriculum should be condensed into one and only subject, namely, history ; using the terra with the broadest connotation, and always pi-e-supposing that physical training is pro- vided as a basis. ^ If we regard education as a prepara- tion for the service of the larger life, it is indispensable that we should unfold the story of that life as revealed in the evolution and progress of the world and humanity. Call this unfolding, if you will, history ; call it the story of civilization ; call it the development of culture ; call it the ever-expanding spiritual life expressed in the Uni- verse and in Man. Whatever you call it, the essential need of the child is a vivid and imaginative knowledge of the past, combined with a lively sense of love and duty towards the present, and a prospect of improvement yet to come in the future. The synthetic principle of edu- * Nothing can bo more important in the present day than sys- tematic efforts, made by the parents and the public authority con- jointly, to improve the defective physique of vast masses of chil- dren in the primary schools. But the existence of these defects tends to obscure the principle that the healthy physique is only a means to an end. Under more normal social conditions, sound hygiene will be rather a postulate of school life than a topic for " health lessons," " temperance lessons," etc. For these reasons, I do not set apart a specific place in my scheme for physical training. But in the course of the direct moral instruction, talks on hygiene will represent health as an instrument for useful and happy citi- zenship. 8 MOKAL INSTRUCTION: cation is nobly summed up in the aphorism of Blaise Pascal, — The whole succession of men during so many ages should be considered as One Man, ever living and constantly learning. An attempt to display this history, in a manner suited to the capacities of children, is made in the correlation scheme here annexed in three divisions. When I say it is suited to the capacities of children, I do not mean the document should be laid before them as a programme. Figuratively speaking, it should be carefully locked in the cupboard ; it should never be mentioned ; it should be a guide to the teacher, but accounted a mere dismal appari- tion for any childish eyes that by chance caught sight of its skeleton ; and in that respectable academic shade it should remain until, perhaps, the midway years of ado- lescence,when the intellect is capable of takinglong views, and begins to comprehend principles and to love maps of life and experience. But the scheme is suited to the capacities of children since it indicates the kind of narrative, the kind of pictures, the kind of panoramas, the kind of folk-lore and poetry, the kind of nature- scenes, the kind of reasoning on facts and on conduct which such a methodical process and retrospect involve, and which naturally appeal to the young heart and imagination. Another remark is necessary. It would be impossible for any teacher or any school to realize all this scheme, and the unhappy creature who essayed the colossal task would deserve the sure and certain failure that would ensue. The scheme is a quarry from which to hew ; a crowded memorandum from which only a proportion of items need be extracted ; a museum in which the visitor ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 9 makes selections for study. The salient lines, however, should be retained, and the order of evolution is un- changeable. The salient lines are Environment (geo- graphy, natural history). Action (history in the more conventional sense), Thought and Expression (involv- ing action, of course, but regarded on the intellectual side rather than the practical), and Ethics, that is to say the study of personal and civic conduct as illustrated by the material yielded by Environment, Action, and Ex- pression. And the order of evolution is, first. Primitive man and Classical Antiquity ; second the Middle Ages and the transition to the modern world ; third, the Modern World. Reading, writing, arithmetic and the like should all be subordinated to this general historical scheme. In arithmetic, as indeed in all "subjects," an enormous amount of useless matter would have to be (and un- doubtedly will be before the close of the twentieth cen- tury) deleted, and consigned to the hmbo of educational horrors and errors. I propose to devote a brief comment to each of the three stages. Stage I is framed on the principle that the young child's psychology approximates to that of man in the earlier ages of culture. The environment of Primitive Man and the first eforts at taming animals and rearing plants offer an atmosphere and incidents which readily attract the child-mind, the attraction being familiar to us in the modern child's delight in the open fields, the animal world, the farmyard, Noah's Ark, etc. Word- pictures, aided by black-and-white or coloured pictures, will tell of the cave-dwelling, pile-dwellings, and village 10 MORAL INSTRUCTION : communities, and the rule of chiefs, in short, of social and political life. The thought and artistic ex- pression of those ages may be typified in the myth of the Twelve Labours of Hercules. All these scattered details may be recalled as the introduction to a direct moral lesson, with modern examples added, on such a theme as courage and perseverance. To take another instance from this stage : Suppose we picturesquely describe ancient Greece, assisted by coloured pictures, and include in our scenery the olive-tree which is so characteristic of the Mediterranean area. From this aspect of Environment we pass to the Olympian games, and the winner's crown of wild olive, the topic furnish- ing us with excellent opportunities for incidental glances at Greek social life. The same theme will connect, under " Thought and Expression," with the myth of the creation of the olive-tree during the contest of Athene with Poseidon. And these stray details are synthesized when the olive-branch figures in a lesson on Peace and Goodwill. Reflecting on the educational possibilities of these illustrations from antiquity, it would seem un- necessary to insist that such topics are really nearer to the young imagination than the topics — e.g. The Oversea Dominions, Imperial Federation, International Sympathy — -comprised in Stage III. Yet one frequently meets objectors who say that antiquity and its legends are so remote. Remote in time, yes ; remote in psy- chological appeal, no. The child loves nothing because it is modern ; the child loves colour, action, drama. Tell him an old fairy-tale (folk-lore), and he will never trouble whether its supposed date was 500 or 5000 years ago, so long as its motives are direct, vivid, and simple ; mo^ d istory. The ages to which the three stages are eai, etc. ETHICS. Moral Interpretation of Environment, Action, and Thought.) 'F^^e. Struggle with wild nature, sickness, the unknown wilderness. The Argonauts. )i]|ght. Seed-sowing ; breeding of animals ; thrift ; training youth for BCpal and city life. ferance. As illustrated in stories of Hercules, Ulysses, ^neas, ^eph, Moses, etc. ^'AVy. Illustrated by Athene, Hephaestus, Cincinnatus. Order ; ''^fnity of labour ; co oj)eration. ve , Jpty. Honesty ; respect for landmarks, property, etc. (Hebrew laws ; j^an laws.) e. In home, daily intercourse, law, etc. Cyrus and the two coats ; ! Judgment of Solomon ; the scales ; the ancient custom of " the g^asure running over ". (Hebrew law ; Roman law ; Indian law.) y. Mother ; father ; sisters ; brothers ; friends. (Demeter, -iEneas, hi-nelia, Damon and Pythias, etc.). Early forms of chivalry, e.g. iiilles and the Queen of the Amazons. Respect for age in China, me, Judaea. Tender relations with animals ; domestic pets. ouifs ; duty; justice ; patriotism. Early examples of the regulation fi var, e.g. heralds, ambassadors, use of olive branch. f^ial Hygiene ; cleanliness ; exercise ; temperance ; self-control ; P -respect. Sanitary laws of Hebrews, Indians, etc. i,(Pf Beauty ; illustrated in Greek art, not, of course, by "lessons," by placing suitable pictures and models frequently in the children's vtv. H baracterqaalities (courage, foresight, perseverance), which are naturally jeld with the progress of primitive man, will be freshly illustrated in succeed- s. The same remark will apply to the other ethical themes above indicated ; 1, r subjects will be added, varying social conditions will enlarge the moral ! i succeeding stages will register progress. For example, hygiene, treated ^y in the case of younger children, will cover civic sanitation later on. '^ exanples can in all cases be added from any source approved by the ^iand this plan should be systematically followed. It is not at all intended i^t that the stage of Antiquity should provide the staple material of moral : ijn ; but rather that such material makes natural and efficient foundation 1 ch to construct a fuller and more modern conception of life and duty. A SCHEME FOR THE CORRELATION OF CERTAIN SUBJECTS OF INSTRUCTION i to subordinate them to the aim of moral and civic training, the material being so arranged as to exhibit, in three stages, the progress and evolution of mankind, with special reference to the national life and history. The ages to which the three stacr allotted are tentative, and will be varied with such circumstances as a rise in the age of compulsory school attendance, the extension of the instruction into the secondary school period, etc. ladicKting the beglnuings of oivilizA- tion, lamily nod home and olty, the sosiul soDse, and ettrl; tuligious and 3 THE ENVIRONMENT. ACTION : SOCIAL AND POLITICAL. THOUGHT AND EXPRESSION. »/ Mural Evolution.) I Primitive Han. (ii« ETHICS. (Moral InttrpretatioH of Knvinnment, ^clioii, Globe, and Hap of the World. Pictures of prcbistorio land-tcaiwa, and linrduhip, but abo of wdolbb to be soni'j foods, butldtog tnatecials. met communes. Courage, foresigbt. and pereeveranoe evolved family, tribe, village. Rule of elders and chiefs. Hunting ; f aoimoU; tillage; early land surveying by means of "rope- aU, ploato, suggestive of conflict ' stretching " ; proporty ; wheel, etc., Discoveries of whole- suited fitr village ibruggle. Hap of Hediterranean, Asia Minor. India. Exploratiiin and triidi; »( Minoans, Phcenioians, Greeks, etc. Mediterra- nean myths (PoMoidon. .V«olu«, Hephaestus, etc.), Travels of Herodotus, .VJoxanUer, and Pythwi', illustrating spirit of heroic pioneering. Plants, unjiiuibt, miuLTils known to Greeks, etc. Map of Roman Empire. Empire i;L> nssociated with The n.tumi \n-A..,, , . palm, almund, pear, upi'l^ animals ^domesticated lii< dile, eagle, vulture, eti.- load, flint, marble, etc. mytlbs, folk-lore, biogivipli Aiu-i. — L-iat3ru illuatra piot'irea of Italy (Laks Avi eseouted by tha chUdren ; visits t>u local historical » olive will f irniah special subjects fur drawing and clay-modelling. Only such geographioul names should be employed as ui'e essential the descriptiun, and these should be tnught by use in mapa and rather than specially memorized. It is assumed that in the kindergarten stage, the " home geography " baa been adeijuately pictured, together with simple appreciations of the sun, moon, stars, seasons, etc. It shuuid be remarked that no inconsiderable amount of the story material placed in the two next columns may, on occasion, be utilized in connexion with geography, e.g. the adventures of Ulysses and .'Eneas ; the myth of Jason ; the exile of mma as related in the " Bamayana ". Greeks. ' Tales from Homer, Herodotus, and Plutarch, so presented as to illustrate [social life and political beginnings. The ideas of family, city, republic. I colony, empire, slavery, tribute, law. tyranny, conquest, leagues, treaties, revolutions, etc., may be conveyed, not in formal explanations, but in the course of Homeric and other stories. ' BomanB. ! Tales from Virgil and Plutarch. The story of Numa's conversations with the nymph Egeria in particularly effective for conveying rudimentary ideas of politics and citizenship. Hebrew and Early Christian history— stories of Abraham, Moaw Solomon, Judas Mtccabieus; the New Testament; typical saint S. Augustine, S. Jerome, S. Genevie' teachers will make selections suited to the chili Thechil.li.'i 'i..:i'.' '..-!i-vn h..',v tVi, niliT trated in ■-.■]■■' ■■<,■■• ■■! ■ n- ■ iv ■- ■■ Greece ini'l i^ ■ ..■,,■ Drawing ni i i i . ■' . ■ ■ pillar-., R u, u.'li . [ •;. i-.m: ■/■■- -I It is pre-supnosed that miny I'f the stune^ ii have been employed, in simpler presentations, IS, etc. The legeads u le playa and dialogues dolmens, arrow-heads I Primitive Magic, Religion, Art. As iUiiatratvd, og. in Frszer's "Golden Bough". Kveryday surnvnls of magic ; horseshoe ; spilling suit, etc. The suggestion here is not at all re- lated to formal notices of these survivals ; it- rather points to amusing folk- ' lure stories which include references to them. IVIay-day celebrations, for instance, imply both magic and art. Primitive Literature (Myths, etc.). European (including old Irish legends, Norse s-igiis) ; Asiatic fables and fairy tiUus ; African folk-lore ; myths ; Mitori and Polynesian legends ; American Indian myths. Creation and culture myths (e.g. Prometheus, Titans, and Odin) should be particularly noted. Note aUo classical survivals in popular use, e.g. figures of Hercules, Atlas, Themis (Justice), etc. Primitive Soienoe. I Number, and the use of Angers, pebbles, abacus ; measure, as illustrated by the Roman foot, mile, etc. ; weight ; elementary astronomy ; time (associated with the arithmetic of this sb^;e). The calencUir. Simple physics ; simple hygiene. Alphabet, reading, writing. Stories of early men I of science (Archimedes, etc.). These science-nutes (not formal science- lessons) should support the ideas of truthfulness, wise submission to law, I gratitude to inventory. The idea of " two and two make four " is a foremst ,' of the whole of the complex structure of science, and typical of appealing to common sense. Language. I Classical and other a also in pursonul name I such words as circle, radius, etc. I Aids, —Nature-plays, fairy operettas, old folk -games ; songs reminiscent of joy and wonder of nature, and of basic relationships (parents, friendship, etc.), and primitive occupations such as hunting. Drawing and modelling can I be roLited to the period — swa'^tika, \Twes, capitals, etc. I The lesthetic aspect of arithmetic may be illustrated in crystals, petals, I honeycomb, musical rhythm, dance rhythms, metre of poetry, sjmdes and I diamonds of playing cards, number of stars in simple constellations, such as ,nticipated in the kindergarten or infant-i' li Thtughl.) , sickness, the unknown wilder 1 storioft of Hercules, Ulysses, Pereeveranoe. Ah illustrated Joseph, Moses, etc. Industry. Illustrated by Athene, Hephiestua, Cincinnatus. Order: dignity of htbour ; cooperation. Property. Honesty ; respect for landmarks, property, etc. (Hebrew Uwt* ; Utqnan Ivws,) JUBtiOt. In home, daily intercourse, litw, etc. Cyrus and the two coat« ; the Judgment of Solomon ; the scales ; the ancient ciuitom of '* thi; moaaure running over". (Hebrew law ; Roman law; Indian law.) Family. Mother; father; sisters ; hrothen; friends. (Demeter, .dBnea^. Cornelia. Damon and Pythias, etc.). Early forms of chivalry, o.ii. AchiUes and the Queen of the Amazons. Respect for age in China, Itiime, Judiea. Tender relatiuus with nuimaU ; uomeHttc pets. Civio Life ; duty of war, e.g. huraldn, ambaswadora, PerBonal Hygiene ; cleanliness ; self-respect. Sanitary laws of Hebrews, Indioufi, Sense of Beauty ; illustrutej in Ureok art, not, of but by placing patriotism. Earl^ examploa of the ngulation -'■- of ohvo branch. temjieranoe ; self-control ; view, and saoaesdmg atatios will lORistor progrots. For eiamplo, hygieao, traated personal^ in the oasa of younger oblldroD, will oovcr civic •anitation later gn. Hodura exanplui can in all oasw be added from any touroo approved by the teacher, knd this plan should be srslvmatioallv followed. It is not at all Intended to suRgMt that the stage of ADtiqnity should provide the staple material of a o SOCIAl ETHICS. 1 ^n^lSJi^ Interpretation of Environment, Action, and Thought.) n age ; cob jUalitieS (continued arid expanded from Stage I.). Courage, should ba gijperseverance, illustrated from this pariod and from other children wipareers of Columbus, Gama, etc. "^ ' Uouvtssy, honour, "lady," "gentleman," story of Bayard; |luty". rLse of towid Mercy. Social co-operation in guilds ; practical charity ,nd, Irelanqnonks, nuns, etc. Legends of Our Lady, Animal stories in ith Moslemjf the saints. monasteriej j r*- • i- town etd®'''' *^" UlSCipline. Guilds ; town-government ; feudal ^V' Mabinoo-I'*^**'^*^'^- Self-control; self-respect. Law-courts; jury- ^aterest to'l^^^^a Charta. , olitical freedom ; religious freedom and toleration (treatment le-s '"^ Past a ^^^''*' ^o^^®"^^ generally, Nonconformists), be taken of Illustrated from early English and later struggles ; lives of 3 of the Midfited workers. about ITin Races. Duties of Europeans towards. This theme may ne of serfO'^ associated with the stories of explorers of America and the 3or-law • tiP^^^ noble efforts of Las Casas should be related, jcotland. L ^f Roman Catholic Church, e.g. the " Truce of God," pro- j with bpai^g eleventh century ; Grotius ; Quakers. colonial lifLrts and crafts ; pride and honesty in work ; honour and dili- fade ; banking, interest, thrift, honest finance. The practice colonies anj coins might be noted. ustrial and ', - . ■, ^ ■ . <• i- c ■ j.-c early tradc^^^^ sincerity, devotion, etc., from lives of scientinc men carried on f^"* iions from biography of the period, e.g. the life of Michael pain, and B hould be rc'^^ sketch of More's " Utopia ". story of k )liand, the S|.QpJQg above-named which characteristically emerge at this xplorers, etc^-^g^^j.^ ^^ ^j^^ Middle Ages ; the guilds of craftsmen represent -i organization ; banking is associated with the foundation of ;r, the his igland at the close of the seventeenth century ; and science f kings shHous men who formed the Royal Society. phasized. revious stage the teacher will use the mediaeval and post- 1 aids, draerial as a basis, or as a frequent source of reference, but should lized as befences from modern experience. THE ENVIRONMENT. {Home and Scenery of Moral Evolution.) Hap of British I&les, WeBtern Europe, and Mediterranean. Britiah mioerals, p\&aU, and aaimals knowa in the Middle Ages ; foods ; aw materi'ilh of manufnutures and arts. E.g. the nalunil hititorj- of wool ui'iy bi lisro dejoribii. as the wool trade is pj}ullarl7 a<4S9]i>ited with this pariod. So ubo ailk ni^.v be dealt with. Oak 16 connsalel with m3roh»iit and royal n'^vies. Whilebone and traio-oil were now supplied to Europe by the fiBhermeo of northerp Spain. The orange Gradual oleariog of forests ; draining of feas ; dykea ; rise of modern sea- porto ; trade routes to India, Russia, America, etc. Ihe iuduelrial side of trrivel and colooization should be emphasized, io older to ooQQteraot the error that military adventure was the chief agent in extending 1700 ; Roman Catholic and The map ivill extend with 1 Crusades), trade, and travel. i>f irnportaat tnvenbioQs and Simple descriptions of t! Chi □aion of international will be included as the original honit (compass, printing, silk, porcelain, ,1 and religions life of Mohamiiiediiu- and Hindus will accompany their emergen n this stage of history. Such descriptions will not be merely ethnographical. Their design will l^ to create Eympath; for the life and ideas of peoples other than European;^. This pro;edare is of particular imporl:ioce in dealing with the Moslem oppon- ents o( the CruBades. The beginnings of America's contribution to m^iterial progress now appear e g, the alpaca, potato, maize, cocoa, anuwront, quinine, tomato, pine apple). Stories of Typical Travellers. 3 Polo, Columba-*, Magellan, Drake, Gama, etc. The " Lusiads " ; Robin Hood ; Moslem stories (Arabian Nights, ett; I ^11' I i I : Mil i,:la-playd ; Fn^iasart ; Chivalry. Mirisuk scholars. Later (till about 1700). ui ctthedrals ; s:hools and i aders and traveUers in India wars with France, Spain, and Holland arise, the nobler aides of French, Spanish, and Dutch life should be referred to. E.g. for France, the story of Saint Louis; Spain, stories of 8. Isidore, Cervant«s, etc. ; for Holland, the story of William the Silent ; and the works of the great painters, explorers, etc. should a year-date be emphasized. Dramatic and pictorial aids, drawing and modelling, ' spots, etc., should be utilized as before. ser ; Shakespeai'e ; stories from Camoens and C^i Protoritant devotion ; Luther, tranahitlon of Bible ; MUton ; Fox ; Buoyaa. Catholic devotion ; St. Teresa ; St. Vincent de Paul ; Jesuit missions in Canada. Science ; alchemy ; ■gunpowder ; story of Faust ; Copemioua ; Harvey ; Galileo. The modern int^r-'^^ m i.-^-.r,v .^.^t■^^ fpom this period, and a few stories of botanists (Cm i I !■ u i ■ iLU'.,'ht be given. The zoologists (the Englishman Ray, li ■ . : r The story of scieatidc de- votion should be placd i!m I I i i i ■ jiu.ilt (correlated with lessons in arithmetic at this stage) : time calculation ; time-pieces. New foods and matermls introduced (sugar, cotton, tea, coffee, etc.) ; their influence on social habits. i>t intended tu suggest that any teacher should cover the whole of the ground above outliued, but that, out of the mass of available literature and otlier culture-materials, such stories and biographies should be selected ETHICS. {.Horal [,it4!rprelation of Bnnronment, Action, and Thought.) Character-Qualities {contimud and expandid from Stage I.). Courage foresight, perseverance. iUustrated from thia pariod and from other sources. Careers of Columbus, Goma, etc. Chivalry. Courtasy, honour, "Udy," "gentleman," story of Bayard; "Do thy duty". Sympathy and Mercy. Social co-operation in guUda ; practical oharity of saints, monks, nuns, etc. Logendfi of Our Lady. Animal stories in Legenda of the saints. Justice, Order, and Discipline. Gmlds; towngovemment ; feudal loyalty; taxation. Solf-control ; nelf- respect. Law-courts; jury- system ; Magna Chart*. Progress. Piilitical freudom of Jews, Moors, Moslems generally, Nonoonforuiiste). a freedom and toleration (treatment jrity, devotion, et^;., from Uvea of scientific i ill help the children to realize the mediaeval thought, of beauty, and religious devotion ; and (as in some of Shakespeare's plays, in Milton's and Bunyaa's ideaU) the spirit of English liberty. Drawing, painting, recitation, dramatic exercises ; singing, dances, excur- sions, etc., to be related to this period. Numerous picture-postcards now illustrate mediaeval and post-mediaeval scenes, [tictures, and uthev works of ai't, etc. Non-Europaan Races. Duties of Europeans towards. This theme may b3 specially iitsooiatod with the stories of explorers of Amurica and tho tropics. Tiiu noble effutts of Laa Casoa should ho related. Peace. Effort "f Roman Catholic Church, e.g. the " Truoo of God," pro- posed in the eleventh century ; (Stottus ; Quakers. Industry. Arts and crafts ; pride and honesty in work ; honour and dili- gence in trade ; banking, interest, thrift, honest finance. The practice of clipping coins might De noted. Soience. Lessons of « of the period. Art. lUostrntiuns from biography of the period, e.g. the life of Michael Ideals. Simple sketch of Moru'n " Utopia ". Among the topics ahovo-oauiod which characteristically emerge at lhi-« stage are the chivalry of the Middle Ages ; the guilds of oraftemeii ropre-tent social order and organization ; banking is associAtod with the foundation of the Bank of Bngland at the close of the seventeenth century ; and soioocu with the illuatrious men who formed the Boyal Siraiety. As in the previous stage the teaober will use the mediaeval and po»t- mediaevnl material as u baais, or as a fretjuent source of reference, but should freely add from modern experience. foresight, perseverance, illustrated from the period (e.g. Cook, iiit, Oying Atlantic cable, etc.). Dr. Smiles's works give characteristic ition ; f from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. ^^^ o;^^e and Duties. * ^ may draw many helpful thoughts from the higher-class novels of ' ^'^^' e, and modern biographies yield plentiful examples. The work mal Home Reading Union has its message at this point. *y 0^ ^ts, Duties, and Progress. imperial, international (including some foreign references- . Lincoln, Mazzini). rbitration and Peace. S( ETHICS. al Interpretation of Environment, Action, and Thought.) shoul For ^ itself jggjgj.;Jof speech, press, vote ; religious freedom \d ■ foP^i'^'J'^^l) sociiil, legal, international, iiiter-r 'niif^io activity of women in civic life. -e.g. acial. Honour. rancis tion and Efficiency. 5f labour ; co-operation ; honesty. Thrift — personal, municipal, emperance, hygiene, international hygiene. lurch a Beauty. free t)n of wonders of science ; respect for natural law ; sincerity of reat r^and expression. Sense of beauty in art and nature. Preserva- ming, ^arth from vulgarization. The garden city idea. der and Progress. issary ^gjj^ q£ manners. Value of education. Here m^ agencies illustrated in history of law, prisons, industrial con- lom \giQj^^ treatment of backward races, kindness and justice to 1^ ' ^orks of mercy — hospitals, sisters of charity, lifeboats. Red Cross, pewsp^ to the Past. j^ ins from the history previously studied — the lives and achieve- sligious teachers, saints, reformers, statesmen, poets, artists, dia, an id all good women, from the primitive housewife of the village i>te the to the age of the trained nurse and the woman teacher. ''^ "^ iopment. ffradu. hs of efficient social service ; personal hygiene, education, friend- ^^TVT^"'^ workmanship, and ideals, as helps to a noble character and civic great i Kingciics will be illustrated from the history of the period, and from ources, ancient and modern, as the individual teacher desires to pupils may now be made conscious that the moral life is not only Tribudlividual improvement, but also by definite social movements and progress of oiviliz&tion wider knonledge and e oxprCBsed ia humane tionftl oo-opemtioD and peaoe ; with speoial reforenoe to the Britith Empire. ThJH singe ie obvioaalj- capable THE ENVIRONMENT. (H,., ii.l Sm J/o] En,lm ACTION : SOCIAL AND POLITICAL. Popular Activity ; Freedom ; Migration ; Association. PArliament. Cabinet, Miaiattirs ; Indtipeadence of United THOUGHT AND EXPRESSION. ETHICS. Hap of the Known World. Thi- !■ I I 111 time to time, before the children's eyes, with the jir.i I . ■ I I Africa, polar regions, etc. ; the establishment of j Labour Movement. Soiitli All!' 1 1' 111 I . I iiii , the rise of Japun, etc. The story of trftvel will ly pioneers (e.g. Ulysses) with the widespread States; French Revolution ; franchise: abolition of negro slavery. Colonial expansion and over-sea struggleu (America, India, etc.). Industrial changes; machinery; effects of mining, engineering (including tory engineering), Ht«am, electricity, the aeroplane, etc. ; Trades Unions, Literature and Art. Defoe, Swift, Johnson, Goldsmith, Gray; illustrating new types of atory. humour, retlective poetry. Wordsworth, Burns, BUike. Tennyson, Scott, Dickens; iUustratinK love and humanity. Add some notice of American literature (Long- fairy-talo and other children's literature (in- , (MoTiil Inteypreliitic I Character-Qnalities- ClarksM,,, .:;,.,, . interest t:iten iu tiiu elinrts of Cook, Livingstone, Stanley, Nansen, Peary, ' Amundiien, Soott^ etc. I The exploration of Australia is rich i: The very 03 nplexity o nineteenth canturies >^)i minute ohronology. 1" I interest (Sturt especially). The mai>s of both thci British Isles and the World will emphasise the . growth of social elemeut>'< — towns, harbours, lighthouses, communications i by land and sea, the use nf >nre)e»s telegraphy on the great sea routes. Natural History and Earth-Knowledge. The animal, mineral, and VL-Lii-tiiilo wirM- "\1! be enlarged to the learner's view as new observations ;iro iii.nl' tmiii 17ii" (<> the present day, and new aubstiniL'i'- i-iiiiiliiv'.-il in 111 iniir !■ ■ i: ■ ■ ■ _ iki r il ■ , -tL-L-1. india-rubber, etc.). Thu^ai- ■ . 'i . I rig the nations; and oil I'd the spiritual Holidiiiii Ktiiv Gardens for the Uj: . . i.itt^s the manner in whuh ,. .,1.,,.. 1..1L . ._ ;. ■:.. A:j.y Ijd employed in the serviy^' nf civtli/jitii-ti N'lt..- ;ihi. tin: Si'Iionl^ uf I'l'dpical Medicine at London and Liverpool. The physical features of the great Oversea Dominions should be so por- trayed aa to bring into rtiln-'f tlu' iiiiniensi.' find ni.iiiiir.ible struggle of explorers, hunter.-, i_i iil-ui-r , "■ , ^ ninj u|i and rendering j xhe World Outlook. availnlil. '!■ II iMi.i I 11,. iiuilding of the Oanti'lJ:... ■ .- ■; - -^ .. Africa I ■ iM.'M )(;iuiit-.iKL:...:. .__. ___ . _. . ill all should be the ohief aid; lor [lulitics. I'lti, l<'o\, Hiiikc.Oladstone.BeacoDefield, etc. ; for industry, Francis tlace, Owen, Morris, the Lives of Progress In Education and Religion. Sunday schools; Church of England schools; Konconformist schools; Education Act of 1670 ; free education. Emancipation of Roman Catholica, Jews, etc. Lives of great religious and social workers — Howard, Wesley, Mrs. Fry, Keble. Manning, Chalmers, Shaftesbury, Florence Nightingale, t biographical illustrations ! moral unity underlying ' The progress of the newspaper press. I eluding Indian stories). I Progress of Muitic (Handel. simple notices of foreign poets fe. Millet). ^ ' ^ The drama — Mrs. Siddons, Garrick, Kean, etc; Science, still treated chiefly by moans of biography, e.g. Newton, Priestley, I Faraday, Darwin. Add such foreign names as Pasteur. I Invention illustrated by Watt, Stephenson. Add such names as Edison, Marconi. Hygiene and Sanitation illustrated by Simnaon. Lister, etc. Include notices of current services, such as the worlc of Sir Ronald Ross and I others in combating yellow fever and makria. The completion of the Panama Canal was made possible by this science. Sympathy with other Nations illustrated in travel-hooks (Mungo Park, D.ir«iii, Wiillne), and bv sympathetic literature such as Lafcadio HiTiniN un,-kM.u J.ip^m, etc. Sympathy with Animals illustrated by natui-al history books (Kipling's •■ .Jungle Book.' Thompson Seton, Kearton, et€.). se of Greek and Latin in modem scientiBc names should be Hm introduction of popular French phrases. Hinta at a rersal language. illusii.if tith and nineteenth centuries." Home Life and Duties. Teachertt may draw umuy helpful thoughts from the higher-class novels of domestic life, and modem biographies yield plentiful examples. The wurk of the Nationid Home Reading Union has its mesiiage at this point. Civic Rights, Duties, and Progress. National, imperial, international (including some foreign veferenoea— e.g. Washington, Lmcoln, Mazziai). Ideal of Arbitration and Peace. Freedom of speech, preas, vote ; religiouK fieedoi Justice — t}erHonal, social, legal, international, int Increased activity of women in civic life. Industry and Efficiency. Division of labour ; co-operation ; honesty. Thrift— personal, municipal, national. Temperance, hygiene, international hygiene. Truth and Beauty. Admiration of wonders of observation and expression. Sense of beauty tion of the earth from vulgarization. The garden city idea. Social Order and Progress. Impi'ovoinunt of manners. Value of eduoatiou. Humane ngvnoiea UluNtrated in hlntory of law, prisooa, industrial oon- ditiouij. miaaioua, treatment of backward races, kindness and iustioe to Works of murcy — hoepitaU, sistera of ohai'tty, lifeboats, Red Orotw, r-raoiaL Honour. ; respect for natural law ; sincerity of ; their mutual responsi' of South I United Kingdom, India, and the Crowr niners of bilities and duties, Note the remarkable service rendered to the industries ustry. of the tropical portions of the British Empire by Hindu coolies, e.g. in , , , j Mauritius. Th v**d Oversea Dominions ; gradual gro^vth from colonial status to self-govem- The inclusion of Maori representatives in the New Zealand Parlia- Arithmetic should be linked up with material supplied by modern science, trade, municipal and national affuii-s, finance, and statistics, A sketch of tho history of arithmetic (e.g. Miss Cunnington's) would help in revealing its Aground abn' i should bi' 1 I widenint^i-t he literatm'i mn, andoutlook. Defoe' ular interest of tho day i :^st of an exiled soul. Gratitude to the Past. Illustrations from the history previously studied— the lives and achieve- mcnts of religious tcacbeT», saints, reformers, statesmen, poets, artists, artisans ; and all gnod women, from tho primitive housewife of the village comiiiiuiity to the age of the trained nurse and the woman teacher. Self-development. I As a means of efficient social service ; peraoual hygiene, education, friend- 1 shi]>s, sound workmanship, and ideals, as nolps to a noble character and civic usefulness. ; These topics will be illustrated from the history of the period, and from , j such other aourceii, nucieot and modern, as the individual teiicher desirea to ' I use. Older pupiU may now bo made conscious that the moral Ufe is not only , aided by individual improvement, but also by definite social movements and o c rJ, ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 11 80 long, in short, as it is interesting. He is prepared to derive his ethics impartially from the modern instance of Willie B. who did this or that in the street yesterday, or from the fairy king Oberon who holds a very dubious place in the " Who's Who " of early Scandinavia. Professor Patrick Geddes has often enough, in his penetrating way, reminded us that the modern zoologist, botanist, and even a philosophical evolutionist such as Darwin, are but cultured representatives of the ancient hunter or wandering plant-finder. And if we would create in the child's soul an interest in twentieth century science and the wonder of the universal spectacle, we must (paradoxically, if you will) begin with the primitive world and the first naive vision. The Montessori method precisely coincides with this view. Madame Mon- tessori advises that children (she is speaking of children aged 3 to 7 years) should work and amuse themselves in little gardens where they would exercise observation, and practise foresight and patience in sowing seeds and awaiting the fruit, or in feeding animals with due expectation of their growth and maturity. If we consider that the Middle Period covered by Stage II. produced the romances that perpetually enchant youth — the "Arabian Nights," the " Mabinogion," the Arthurian legends, the Nibelung Lay, the poems of Chaucer and Shakespeare, and the allegories of Bunyan, etc. — we shall have no difficulty in employing the ma- terial yielded by the Mediaeval and Renascence Environ- ment, the social and political features of feudalism, Catholicism, Protestantism, the revival of science, the expansion of art. Here we view the beginnings of modern progress, modern education, modern politics, 12 MORAL INSTRUCTION : modern disclosure of the remoter quarters of the earth ; and here, therefore, we obtain a bountiful store of con- crete illustration. How rich the store is for instruction in the best sense of the term may be observed in the ad- mirable novels of Sir Walter Scott. Should I propose, as a suitable topic for children aged 11 or 12, an elementary knowledge of Moham- medanism, the subject might appear far-fetched and, to some judgments, grotesque. Look, then, at the four col- umns covered by our Stage II. Under " Environment," we should display the scenery and natural history of Arabia, with the Indies and Persia on one side, and Egypt, Morocco, Spain and Turkey on the other. Under the head of " Action " we must notice those crusades which represent the centuries-long and- por- tentous conflict between the two great forms of theism, the Catholic and the Moslem, with results of immense industrial and intellectual, as well as political im- portance. And why not relate a simple outline of the biography of Mohammed the Prophet ? Under the head of "Thought and Expression," the Alhambra will provide aesthetic hints, and the " Thousand and One Nights " will yield ample romance (and more than romance) ; while the history of the Moors in Spain, or Lessing's parable of the Three Rings (in " Nathan the Wise") will supply the teacher with suggestions for judicious and intensely interesting talks on sympath}'^ and courtesy towards alien modes of faith. Perhaps, indeed, the word "alien" may be gently erased, un- der the influence of such conversations, for the British teacher, at any rate, will recall the significant fact that he and his pupils have 60,000,000 Mohammedan fellow- ITS THEOEY AND PKACTICE 13 citizens in India. Is it, then, a preposterous idea that comparatively young children may derive profit from an elementary study of Mohammedanism ? ^ In Stage III. we arrive at internationalism and inter- racialism. The twentieth century witnesses the finish- ing touch put to planetary exploration by Captain Amundsen ; it witnesses the First Universal Con- gress of Races ; it witnesses the international spread of science and literature, and a genuine appreciation of one another's achievement in art by all the civilized nations ; and it witnesses the teachers of the world assembling in International Moral Education Congresses in order to establish a common basis for the development of child- hood. This universal note must make itself heard in the ethical instruction. No longer is it possible to treat of temperance, veracity, justice, chivalry, duty, and citizenship as the virtues of a narrow circle in village, municipality, or even country. Even to us English, the story of England, which our scheme brings into relief in Stages II, and III., inevitably assumes a cosmopoli- tan quality when we arrive at the point where our vast colonies have become transfigured into oversea domin- ions, and an Enghsh king and queen are crowned imperially at Delhi. Our moral and civic education expands as the outlook expands, and the petty codes of our fathers, effective and honourable in relation to their age and conditions, must now yield place to an opulent conception of the whole duty of a man and a citizen. Take, for example, the subject of hygiene or sanitation. ^The term " Mohammedauisia " should not be employed at all, since it iuvolves a vast abstract coiiceptiou ; but one may readily talk to children about Mohammed and Mohammedans. 14 MORAL INSTRUCTION : The seventeenth century managed moderately well on such maxims as " Cleanliness is next to Godliness," and the remedies of Dr. Sangrado. The art of individual health-culture is to-day holding the interest of the masses as well as of experts in medicine, but a cursory glance at our scheme will reveal tokens of the vast meaning now associated with hygiene. It will suffice to enumerate a few modern activities — the school of tropical medicine ; systems of municipal drainage ; the widespread knowledge of sanitary science ; medical exa- mination of emigrants in the ports of the world, etc. Or take the subject of justice. In the earher stage it is enough to tell little children of " The Wolf and the Lamb," "The Judgment of Solomon," "Cyrus and the Two Coats " ; or to relate stories of the " Tyrants " from the pages of " Plutarch " ; or to discuss the etliics of sharing and awarding in the 'home, the playground, and the school. But when we reach, in imagination and study, a world where all Africa is brought into touch with civilization, where international law is in process of construction, where international sympathy is strengthened by art and literature, and even some animal realms are regarded as within the borderlands of humanity, the idea of justice demands reinterpretation, and a far grander range of illustration. Such are the conceptions of general education which govern the writer of these pages, even though the pre- cise theme pursued in the remainder of the volume is the restricted subject of direct moral instruction. It may be advisable to add one word as to the possible objection that, after all, moral education embraces the discipline of habits and occupations. No doubt ; and I ITS THEOEY AND PEACTICE 15 recognize the sincerity of the promoters of the City- State (Erziehungstaat), the George Junior Eepublics, the Juvenile Commonwealths, and the like, which on all sides testify to an eager desire to render moral education practical. But these experiments only possess ultimate value for the individual and the community in so far as they are inspired by ideals, a keen historic sense, and a broad sympathy with all the diverse forms of social cus- tom and art, religion and ethics, expressed in the general human life. The " practical " may miss the secret of practice. Character. — ^It will be useful, at this point, to devote a brief section to a consideration of " Character," and, in the course of the discussion, I shall endeavour to fix strict limits to the term, even at the risk of running counter both to popular conceptions and to the views held by very many teachers. Long reflection, however, has convinced me that, unless these limits are laid down and loyally adhered to, both educators and children are liable to endless confusion of thought, and even to serious errors in morality. Character is efficiency. Character is executive power. Character is a complex of practical qualities. But effi- ciency, executive power, and practical qualities are not, strictly speaking, moral elements at all. A man may possess a strongly-marked character, and yet be an enemy of society. Indeed, most " bad " people have very vigorous characters. The Satan of Milton's " Para- dise Lost " cannot be accused of weakness of will or lack of effectiveness, and he precisely embodies those qualities of alertness, zeal, and concentration which form the theme of eloquent speeches at prize-distributions or graduation > 16 MOEAL INSTKUCTION : exercises. In the nine circles of Dante's "Inferno" may be discerned numerous figures that are endowed with highly active qualities. Dante contrasts these energetic souls with the apathetic mob — " wretches who ne'er lived " — who pass the ages in darkness on the banks of Acheron : — This miserable fate Suffer the wretched souls of those, who lived Without or praise or blame. . . . . . . Mercy and justice scorn them both ; Speak not of them, but look, and pass them by. / The chief aspects of character are energy and fortitude ; 'or they may be described as courage, forethought, and perseverance. That is to say, courage to attack a task ; forethought to calculate events and consequences ; perse- verance in the pursuit of the aim. I repeat that none of these qualities is necessarily ethical. A scoundrel may rejoice in them, and they may be cultivated by a decadent. Had not Booth courage when he shot Lincoln ? Did not Judas Iscariot exercise forethought in preparing the great betrayal ? And who could be more persistent than Torquemada ? The annals of tyranny are often enough the annals of bravery, prudence, and firmness of purpose. Prudence may assume the form of temperance and severe self-control ; and such temperance and self-control may be egoism in masquerade. The "self-made man" may be a cleverly developed egoist. His business aptitudes — the punctuality and obedience and discipline by means of which he climbed to affluence — may all bear the mark of the beast. Industry itself, so frequently vaunted as a virtue, has no intrinsic morality. The manual train- ing which many modern educationists regard with such ITS THEOEY AND PKACTICE 17 enthusiastic admiration imparts or draws out capacities, — accuracy, deftness, alertness, calculation, orderliness, efficiency, and the rest — which imply no ethical guar- antee. The maker of an infernal machine is a dreadful artist who appreciates them all, and puts them into practice. On the other hand, the entire round of attributes just discussed may combine in a good character which blesses both the possessor and society. Without courage, pru- dence, and determination, goodness may be entitled to faint praise, but is neither glorious nor efficient. In other words, so-called goodness of disposition, devoid of character, is amiable drivel ; and, in suitable language, children ought to be told this wholesome truth. Character, in the precise sense, is the result of the combined action of the whole of the instincts, feehngs, and thoughts, expressing themselves statically in habits, or dynamically in more or less creative acts of the will. The key-word in this statement is result. Feelings and ideas, propensities and imaginations, are the springs of character. Weaken the feelings and ideas, and the character is weakened. Strengthen the feelings and ideas, and the character is strengthened, always provid- ing that natural (that is, adequate) opportunities and scope are afforded for character to play its part. Hence it follows that we cannot act directly upon the char- acter. We must act indirectly. We achieve nothing by exhorting youth to courage, caution, and resolution as things in themselves. Nor do educators enhghten themselves or each other by talking at large on the value of character as a thing in itself. It is true we all want results. The business of life is the achieve- 2 18 MOEAL INSTRUCTION : ment of ends. Character ("will-to-power" as the emphatic Nietzsche would name it) is indispensable in securing these ends. But increase in power depends upon the deepening of feeling, the broadening of the imagination, the exercise of the reason — in a word, the strengthening of motive ; and here is the moral educator's sphere and duty. Given the vivid and eager motive, and character will fast enough take the right form and pressure under the hands of the wise educator. Life aims at action, and moral education endeavours to mould the actio n by the priiicjple^Qf-^Qjciail,respect and co-opera- tion. Life aims at action, and intellect is the tool which is solely devoted to action ; we must think, or there will be no deed. The practical maxim of moral education therefore becomes. Act from affection, and think in order to act. Such action, revealed in good habits and announcing itself in a kindly and helpful life, is the evidence and cHmax of sound training. Character is now the consecrated effect of well-disciplined and well- developed feelings and ideas. Courage, prudence, deter- mination, industry, efficiency are officers of the Noble Law. Moral Instruction through Incidents. — One frequently encounters a " practical " order of teachers and parents who distrust systematic instruction, and put great faith in the so-called " incidental " method. That is to say, they watch for passing occasions in the life of the family or school, etc., in order to point an immediate moral and fasten a label to the event. To discuss this method profitably requires no little discrimination. In the first place, the lesson thus taught may be im- parted privately. The teacher or parent may draw the ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 19 child aside, point out the significance of the incident, and affectionately advise. This course is unexceptionable, and no sane person would question its value and force. Nevertheless, in the very nature of the case, it lacks an important element. It provides excellent counsel for the individual case. It helps to build up a special code for that particular child's guidance. But it does not bring the child into the general judgment-hall. It does not associate his thought with the thought and point-of-view of comrades in the social life. But it is of the very essence of morality to announce a common sentiment of right and common laws of conduct. Private admoni- tion is admirable, but it wants the universal touch. In the second place, let us assume that the incident is utilized by a teacher in the presence of a class ; and let us also assume that the topic handled (as is likely enough) is a fault recently committed. Here, again, one has to recognize a certain value in the reproof publicly administered. A lie has been told ; an insult has been offered ; an act of tyranny has been perpetrated ; some- thing foul has been said, written, or done ; a duty has been neglected ; property has been stolen or injured ; and so on. The guilty child is made to feel ashamed, and the law of right is proclaimed and vindicated. If the process is conducted kindly and tactfully the effect is good both on the offender and the class. Nevertheless, this procedure is really a trial in a school court, followed by verdict and judgment. It undoubtedly conveys a moral lesson. It is not, strictly speaking, moral inst ruct ion^ To instruct {instruo ; instruerefls to build ; to pile up continuously, and to set in order ; whereas the use of a passing and personal incident has 2* 20 MOEAL INSTKUCTION: only a detached and empirical value. It is good for that occasion. It is not fitted into any scheme of thought about conduct generally. It is not made part of an order. This is not all. At the risk of offending the cherished conceptions of the " practical " sort of teachers above alluded to, I venture to say that to let moral teaching remain within such narrow limits as this incidental method imphes, is a distinct meanness and disrespect towards the children. If you go no farther, what will the children think ? They have heard you talk, ear- nestly and sternly, on the subject of right and wrong ; and they have heard you condemn the bad act. They vdll, therefore, suppose that moral teaching virtually consists in pouncing on ill deeds, and extracting whole- some but somewhat (for certain persons concerned) dis- agreeable conclusions. They will suppose it is a species of penal exercise. They will (as teachers have over and over again assured me would be the case) dread the establishment of any set moral instruction, for they will naturally imagine the formal lessons will follow the Rhadamanthine type they witnessed when an unpleasant occasion was " improved ". I most energetically protest against this error in school management. Moral instruction, in the true sense of ithe term, is not a penal exercise ; it is not a sitting in 'judgment on persons present ; it is not a corrective dis- cipline. It is a hygiene ; it is a training in " admiration, hope, and love " ; it is, to borrow a phrase from Bergson, \^ an aspect of creative evolution. Something of this protest, indeed, must be abated when (as more rarely occurs) a teacher employs this ITS THEOEY AND PEACTICE 21 incidental method as a means of praise. If a teacher is quick to mark what is well done, and quick to speak the encouraging word, whether privately or in the class- room, the charge of meanness vanishes. But the charge of empiricism still remains. The child accepts' the present tribute ; the class observes that such and such a course is encouraged. But the atmosphere of instruction, strictly so-called, is absent. This detail, interesting and even dehghtful as it may be, is not inserted in its intel- lectual series ; for there is no series ; no other cases are adduced for comparison in the light of a general prin- ciple. One child is commended ; the rest are inevitably shut out from the praise ; the incident is closed. The children are left unaware of the solemn charm that attaches to an instruction which leaves each individual listener free from embarrassing accusations, and unites all minds in a spontaneous and co-operative inquiry and a serene and impersonal judgment. Stages of Moral Instruction — We will agree, then, that our main rehance shall be, not on the so-called inci- dental practice, but on the impersonal and systematic. Moral instruction, in its mosFexpTicITs^riserisTheTogrG of moral education. It requires examples in series. Moral conceptions will advance from stage to stage, dehberately chosen. The process will differ from the incidental mode, as scientific agriculture differs from the haphazard gathering of fruits and seeds by the hands of primitive man. This does not mean that the chil- dren will be consciously drilled and regimented. Quite the contrary. In the earliest stage, the logic will be entirely concealed ; in the intermediate stage, it will appear only to charm and illumine, and when the chil- 22 MOBAL INSTKUCTION : dren's instinct demands ; in the third stage it will approach its full manifestation, though not attain it. This first stage is, approximately speaking, the period up to the age of 7 ; the second, the period from 7 to 14, that is, to the threshold of puberty ; the third is that of adolescence; that is, to about the age of 21, Not till arrival at manhood or womanhood (I have in "^mind only the normal personality), are feeling, intelli- gence, and character so ripened as to permit of a clear vision of the issues of the science and art of ethics — or religion. I shall find no place in the educational scheme for the repulsive phenomenon of " boy-preachers," or for the young pi'igs, feminine and masculine, who re- joice in delivering moral counsel to their juniors. Char- acter, precisely understood, is not definitely formed till adolescence is well on the way. It declares itself earlier in the case of girls than boys. But whatever may be the date when character may be said to assume a fairly permanent type, it cannot be regarded as other than plastic previously to the age 17 to 21. Dispositions, of course, are innate. A powerful bent may be originated in the period of 1 to 7 years of age, especially under the influence of mother and father. But the period 7 to 14-17, while it is enormously important, cannot be expected to fix courage, discretion, and determina- tion with any clear finality. This preHminary caution is necessary in order to gauge aright the value of the moral instruction imparted in the period of 7 to 14 years. It is indeed a golden opportunity, but yet only inter- mediate. It is based on the foundation laid by heredity and the home ; and unless it is followed by a wise treat- ment of adolescence, many fair promises may be blighted. ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 23 Governed by such considerations, the general nature of the moral instruction in these three periods may be concisely sketched : — -^ — {i) Period below Seven Years. — Thanks to Froebel, and a great army of good women who have elaborated his ideas in the infants' schools of Great Britain and the kindergartens of Germany and the United States, one need not demand the creation of a moral atmosphere. It exists. In song, game, may-pole sport, story-lessons ; in admiration of natural objects, assisted by brush-work, conversation, the keeping of pets, the cultivation of little garden plots, etc. ; and in the kindly relations of child and teacher, the favourable environment for the early training of the heart and judgment are already secured. What is wanted now is a clear guidance to the kinder- garten teacher as to the stage for which she ought to prepare. If, for example, she knew that the Evolution scheme outhned in a previous section would be the dominant note in a succeeding stage, she would often suit her stories, games, action-songs, and the rest, to the theme of early civilization. In any case, she will stop short at any attempt at explicit moralizing. She will rather give such a direction to feeling, such a glow to the imagination, as will make ready the psychological way to the systematic instruction of the second period. There should be occasional reunions of the teachers of the primary and intermediate stages (and if the parents can in any measure take part, so much the better), in order to discover and supply the mutual needs. (2) Period, Seven to Fourteen Years. — So far as my observation goes, and it has been a very exten- sive one, covering many years and many varieties of 24 MOKAL INSTKUCTION : children, — this is peculiarly the age which interests it- self in concrete morals ; not doctrinal morality, not ethical or religious discussion, not abstract statements, but, in the finest sense of the term, in manners. It is an age of relative detachment. Santa Glaus and the fairies have been easily transferred from a cheerful belief to an equally cheerful shrine in the story-book, and, if they are no longer interesting realities, they are equally inter- esting pictures and images. The mind turns to hfe in a limited positive aspect ; and actual men and women and children are beheld, criticized, and labelled. Things are seen in a dry light, but a perfectly dramatic light. This is the period when children delight in simple stage- plays, gorgeous costumes of king and queen and witch and robber, and tread the boards, singing and apostro- phizing with a minimum of self-consciousness. No metaphysic gains admittance here, and a formula is a foreign idiom. When, beyond the line of puberty, a great gate unfolds its leaves, the soul will then (if ever) enter the Storm and Wrestling experience, and try its strength on doctrine, gospel, revelation, and inquiry into things universal. But at present there is a species of equilibrium ; and it is surprising with what clearness the children can see practical issues, and judge motive and character, if revealed in concrete forms. This, then, is the moment to portray a long and rich series of examples of self-control, self-direction, self-development, -kindness, generosity, magnanimity, sincerity, veracity, modesty, fairness, justice, chivalry, duty, honesty, honour, industry, loyal service in family relations, in friendship, in art and craft, in conquest of difficulties, in social co-operation and civic order and progress. The brief list just written ITS THEOKY AND PEACTICE 25 is an adequate, though condensed, view of the general substance of ethical teaching, suited to the capacity of this period. Moral instruction, imparted on such a basis, forms the main theme of this volume. But while, on the one hand, it retains an organic connexion with the teaching of the kindergarten, it looks forward to the critical developments of adolescence, and still further forward to adult life itself. We must, therefore, even though briefly, complete the educational programme by a consideration of the third stage. (3) Period, Fourteen to Twenty = one Years. — If the first stage unfolds the wonder of the world, and the second its practical data, the third is occupied with the relation of the individual to the whole. Hence the personality assumes immense importance, and emerges in a marked self-consciousness. Three problems assail the soul, and, if they make their appeal simultaneously, the agitation will be profound, and deep will call unto deep. One is that of the physical relation to the race ; in a word, the sex-life. The second is that of the social relation, realized in manners, industry, ambitions. The third is the relation to the world at large, and this involves the insistent and perhaps turbulent questions of God, morality, destiny. These problems, however dis- turbing to the individual soul, are quite obvious and simple links in the chain of life. In my opinion much unnecessary mystery has been thrown over adolescence by recent educational writers. Its secret is a very open one. Youth desires to know its threefold relation — physical, social, and universal ; and, in the very nature of the case, its chief need is liberty, combined with a prudent and sympathetic provision for companionships, 26 MOEAL INSTEUCTION : search, adventure, experiment, discussion, reflection. Dic- tation is the natural enemy of such liberty, and adoles- cence quite naturally and quite rightly resents dictation, and wards off a fussy interference as vehemently as Archimedes bade the Syracusan soldier not to disturb the process of his thought. This is a liberty which ought to be unchecked by premature wage earning and material cares. Nevertheless, it is not a liberty with intelligence enough to discover its true environment, and it is at this point that society should intervene in the provision of opportunities of learning, exercise, co- operation, industry, recreation, friendships, self-culture, and rudimentary civic functions. " What is a noble life ?" asked Alfred de Vigny, and he replied to himself : ** A thought formed in youth, and realized in mature years ", How far does society help its youth of both sexes to form such thoughts ? Not wishing to lapse into a mood of irony or scorn I leave the question un- answered. But till our daughters and sons think these thoughts, and until we furnish them with the workshop and garden for that self-discipline and self-revelation, our whole social polity must suffer confusion and delay. From this rapid survey of the problem of adolescence, we may conclude that the moral instruction it requires must assume quite a different shape from that of the intermediate period. The material should be displayed rather than conveyed. It will include poetry, music, drama, novels, eugenics and sex-life knowledge, the gen- eral sciences, and, above all, the science of social evolution. It will provide ample scope for discussion and debate, for the young citizens must be free to exercise that best of all franchises, the unhampered expression of opinion. ITS THEOBY AND PKACTICE 27 The affections fostered in the early years, and the treasury of history and biography stored up in the inter- mediate period, will form a genuine foundation for the moral upbuilding by means of which the character will definitely declare itself. During these seven years the intellect should be invigorated and tempered by syste- matic training in logical and scientific reasoning. This rational process will be accompanied by appeals direct to the heart. For though, as a rule, the adolescent will is moulded better by indirect methods (that is by art, history, literature, and the rest), yet from time to time the heroic young nature will welcome the challenge of the preacher and the prophet, and eagerly rise to con- secrate itself to the service of the larger life. Neverthe- less, in my judgment, the dogmatic formulation of that duty, whether in the sphere of what is called morality, or what is called religion, should normally be deferred till the verge of manhood and womanhood. In short, doctrine, in the strict sense of the term, should not be studied till the closing years of adolescence. The Ideal of Self-realization. — The educational world is now astir with discussion on the value of self-realiza- tion, or self-expression, as an ideal of moral discipline and evolution. For example, the child should reveal its soul in spontaneous and well-framed speech ; it should utter its sense of life in dramatic invention and per- formance ; it should follow after the beauty of flower, tree, butterfly, etc., by its fresh creation of drawing and colour-work ; it should expand in music, and in rhyth- mic exercises supported by music ; it should freely wonder, inquire, and experiment in its universe ; it should experience joy in planning, building, fitting, 28 MORAL INSTRUCTION : repairing, etc. Nothing can be said against these six points. Parents and teachers are everywhere learning to appreciate their importance. And yet it is also true that a bad child (using that dubious term in the ordinary sense) might be carefully trained by this charter of self- realization, and remain as bad as, or worse than, ever. If this statement should surprise, then take the points up again one by one. 1. Speech, well phrased and stamped with individuality, may be used to slander, to lie, to sting, to prevaricate. 2. The dramatic faculty may be employed as a cover of underhand intention and egoistic motive, and serve as an aid to hypocrisy. A de- ceitful child is often, as people say, " a good actor ". 8. A love of beauty in nature generally, and natural objects in particular, may be nothing more than a refined and selfish enjoyment, pursued with consistent disregard of a neighbour's misfortune or disability. 4. A delight in music is not at all a guarantee of moral purity or energy. 5. The inquisitive spirit may be applied in suspicious and objectionable directions. 6. The constructive in- stinct may find a pleasure in devices that annoy, or in- ventions that injure. One may symbolically cite the ingenious labyrinth of Crete, which illustrated talent and cruelty in one stroke of art. The advocates of self-revelation will immediately reply that this is not what they mean. No, but it is a strict deduction from what they say. If they urge that all this self-realization is arranged and fostered for a moral purpose, they put themselves right educationally, but at the same time expose the inadequacy of a theory which has no intrinsic morality. Most assuredly, self- expression should be cultivated. Most assuredly, every ITSfTHEOEY AND PEACTICE 29 gift and faculty that implies efficiency of health and character should be unfolded in the home, the school, and the preparatory workshop or studio. But with this activity must be irrevocably coupled the inculcation of personal and civic duty. Our method, however, would still remain inadequate, if we merely provided opportunity for self-realization (communication, dramatic exercise, art, music, inquiry, construction), and added lectures on duty and honour. The whole elaborate structure — self-expression plus ad- monition — would still lack an essential element. That essential element is the social message ; the appeal of the public conscience, and of history and of the ideal ; in other words, the moral appeal of the past, present, and future. The rich content of the human record in the past ; the many-sided moral interest of to-day ; the poetic signifi- cance of posterity to the imagination and goodwill of the present generation — these constitute the social message, and they can only be known, and can only be effective, through a living, painstaking, systematic, educational presentation. On the one side, the willing and capable soul ; on the other side, the object of the goodwill, and the end which consecrates the capacity. To repeat a principle laid down in the opening page of this study : " Moral education is such a training in the service of x the larger life as involves personal hygiene, self-develop- \ ment, and character-building ". y^ Some educationists express the ideal as the develop- ment of personality, and to this conception the preceding discussion generally applies. Assuredly, the personality, in its physical, energetic, intellectual, and ethical aspects, is the means by which humanity effects its ends ; but 30 MOEAL TNSTEUCTION: the personality derives its meaning entirely from the larger life which gives birth to it, and which provides the sublime arena for its activities. The Paramount Need of a Single Aim in Moral Teaching. — A serious peril which threatens the safety of a genuine moral education, whether in home or school or in general social reform, is that of sectionalism in ideals. We are besieged by enthusiasts who long to ex- ploit the machinery of education in favour of a special virtue. This favoured virtue may be courtesy, recom- mended by guilds of good manners, counsels of politeness inscribed on wall-charts, and vows inscribed on illumi- nated cards. It may be kindness to animals, a most excellent object, but one which may so pre-occupy the mind, through its literature and its bands of mercy, as to give kindness itself an unnatural deflection towards the sub-human creatures and almost condone forget- fulness of the higher social obligations. Temperance monopolizes the energy of some moral teachers, and it usually connotes abstinence from alcoholic drinks, with little or no reference to habits of temperance in relation to the sex-life, diet, tobacco, opiates, tea, dress, amuse- ments, furniture, house-fashions, entertaining, novel- reading, sentimentality, over-concentration on, business, and the rest, though, in the aggregate, these other branches of the subject outweigh the importance of tee- total abstinence. Other minds are attracted by the thrift ideal, and they concoct elaborate schemes of attack on the young conscience with a view to assisting the work of savings banks, insurance societies, sick and out-of-work funds, etc. A fifth group are nervous lest the human race should lose the vflj^^ of self-reliance, ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 31 self-sacrifice, self-devotion, and obedience, and they be- seech educationists and parents to uphold the banner of daily duty and loyalty, and to exercise the children in hardening gymnastics of mind and muscle. Another set of benevolent schemers devise school clubs, and school civics, with a complete apparatus of chairmen, commit- tees, agendas, resolutions, franchise, judges, juries, mayors, sherififs, constables, and penalties. A seventh class, following up the same high purpose of practical ethics, establish funds in connexion with charitable agencies, bands of mercy, and the like. On this survey of practical applications of moral prin- ciple, I venture to make two observations, one apprecia- tive, and the other drastic and severe. (1) These practical applications are, in varying degrees, admirable, and parents and teachers should certainly support them all. (2) The parent or teacher who allows a child to canal- ize its interest along any one of these ethical lines is doing the child a disservice. The moral life is one spirit, one motive, one thought, one energy, variously expressed in such , maxims as " Fear God and keep His commandments," or " Live for others," or "Play the man," or "Follow the Noble Path " ; or it may be crystallized into a Greek word, " Philosophy," or a Roman word,4'" Religion ". In every case it impHes unity of nature and function. This unity is pregnant with the multiplicities of good works and good habits, and must never be subordinated to any one good work (such as mercy to the suffering) or any one good h^bit (such as hygienic exercise). Well-nieaning philanthropists ai^||^ely injuring the child's moral 32 MORAL INSTRUCTION : sense when they so bring temperance, or self-reliance, or kindness to animals, etc., into emotional relief as to convey the impression that the good life is fulfilled mainly in this one virtue. Such an error becomes the immediate source of a thousand and one confusions and prejudices. It is an idle plea to protest that circum- stances differ, that children differ, that teachers differ, and that therefore allowance should be made for local conditions and special tastes. Once for all, it must be said that moral specialization is moral anarchy. We are not here discussing an individual case. A child here may need training in courtesy, a child there in consider- ate treatment of animals, and yet another in self-help. These instances are not relevant. We are now examin- ing the central aim and method of moral education and discipline. It is also idle to object that a child can- not understand what is meant by moral unity. Assur- edly, it cannot comprehend the phrase, but it appreciates the actual thing every time it chooses a companion who has a kind and sociable disposition and manner, as dis- tinct from a teetotal friend, a liberal-handed friend, a polite friend, a thrifty friend, and the like. In that in- stinctive choice, witnessed in every "playground and every youthful circle of social activity, lies the germ of moral philosophy itself. The child who thus chooses a friend drives straight to the central value of the good will. In brief, our aim should be to cultivate the spirit of service, whence all other virtues flow, for "love is the fulfilling of the law". Systematic Moral Instruction. — "The true philosophic spirit," observes Auguste Comte, "consists only in a methodical extension of common good sense to all the ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 33 subjects accessible to human reason." And since a nor- mal child possesses common good sense, it may justly be said that, in an informal way, the child can be taught, and appreciate being taught, methodically ; or, in other words, philosophically. ExpUcit philosophy, indeed, must be postponed to the stage of manhood ; but it is quite a mistake to suppose that only a stray mind here and there has any taste for the fundamental philosophic elements, that is to say, method, connexion and syn- thesis. Whoever, for example, will watch an expert managing a horse in stable and at work, or a skilled housewife ordering the domestic affairs, will find illus- trations of method, connexion, and synthesis. The efficient labourer and the housewife are inchoate scien- tists. And so are their children, whether in the kinder- garten, or at play, or assisting the business of their elders. Method, connexion, and synthesis — as against haphazard and dislocation — make for efficiency in play and work. No human activity is exempt from these logical necessities. The principle is not only recognized, but is acted upon in the ordinary school studies — reading, writing, drawing, arithmetic, grammar, nature study, geography, history, literature, physical exercise, and manual train- ing, and no valid reason can be assigned for denying to moral instruction those advantages of method and logical connexion which are associated with all other kinds of teaching. This does not mean that moral codes and abstract articles will be delivered to the child in neat parcels. The abstract scheme will be framed by the teacher, and will be clothed by the teacher with con- crete interest ; and the young learner will feel and 3 34 MOKAL INSTRUCTION: appreciate the presence of method, and both heart and imagination will take delight in the orderly development of an ethical theme. Let us take two examples — temperance and kindness. The advocates of the so-called incidental method already discussed would perhaps employ the case of a passing drunkard for a talk on temperance and intemperance, and then waive the subject until another circumstance provided another moral opportunity. Treated system- atically, it would be constructed on some such lines as the following : — First notions of self-control, e.g. restraint of nervous action, checking tears, etc. Show how such control may be moral, that is, exercised out of consideration for other people. Control of temper ; of peevishness ; of impulse to strike, etc. Control of speech ; avoidance of (exaggeration and' boasting. Telling a " plain, unvarnished tale ". At this stage the notion of moderation or temperance ("Golden Mean ") may be made explicit. Temperance in play. Temperance in work (children may develop a tendency to over- work, and are quite able to see that overstrain in work or play involves the same error). Such neglect causes discomfort to one- self and family. Moderation in spending, saving, or giving. (The subject of gambling may be here touched upon, but is, I think, more logically dealt with under the head of " Honour and Dishonour ".) Temperance in dress and adornment. Temperance in eating : advantages of simple diet, as affecting personal health and social efficiency. Temperance in drinking of all kinds. The question of alcohol, and effects of alcoholism, personal, domestic, and public. Temperance in the use of tobacco, etc. Obligation of avoiding waste, the intemperate use of any material resources involving deprivation in the case of other people. ITS THEOKY AND PRACTICE 35 Admiration for temperate men and communities. Moderation as practised by groups, e.g. a household may unite in the pursuit of the simple life ; and a municipality or country may husband its finances, natural wealth, etc. Beauty and manliness of a temperate habit, resulting in health, in strength of character, and in capacity to serve the public weal.^ In this procedure we have method, that is a steady pursuit of a subject, independent of mere incidents and accidents ; we have connexion, the stages following logically one upon another ; and we have synthesis, or all-round doctrine, no important feature being omit- ted, no topic being allowed a disproportionate place, and all being combined into an ideal of social service. I pause to remark that instruction in temperance need not be regarded as defective because it does not follow the full analysis just given. The important point is, that whenever temperance is dealt with, the lesson should bear signs of method and connexion, and government by an ideal of personal self-respect and of social value. A single lesson (as I trust will appear in the second part of this volume) may carry with it strong and help- ful suggestion of logical connection and moral syn- thesis ; and the intelHgence of children can be trained to eager and interested response to such suggestion. The children are conscious that they are being disciplined by the methods of adult common-sense and philosophy, and their self-respect is correspondingly increased. I might surely content myself with having laid the preceding plan of temperance teaching before the reader, and with the observation that all other moral topics should be treated in the same manner. But, as ^ Sex temperance should be considered in the adolescent stage. 3 * 36 MOEAL INSTKUCTION : already intimated, I will proceed with a second analysis on the subject of kindness : — First notions of sympathy or fellow-feeling (the term " sympathy " need not be employed in the earlier lessons). Even a baby likes to show its possessions and powers to other people, in order that they may share its feelings. Pleasure in having companions [literally, fellow-bread-eaters] at table, at play, at work, etc. Hence sympathy with companions, and other people generally, evinced in desire to relieve pain, give joy, etc. Inclusion of animals in our "kin" or "kind." Kindness to animals, whether household pets, or burden-bearers, etc. Kindness to younger children, to equals (brothers, sisters, friends, etc.), to elders, to servants. Kindness to iDeople beyond the inner circle of the family — strangers, infirm, distressed, lost, aged, feeble-minded, etc. Courtesy in home, school, play, street, public places and con- veyances ; to persons of different colour ; foreigners ; persons of different religious belief or practice. Generosity ; mercy ; magnanimity ; forgiveness. Social kindness ; charitable work among the poor, unfortunate, sick, prisoners, blind, deaf-and-dumb, cripples, orphans, etc. Hos- pitals and asylums. Fire-brigades ; ambulance ; life-boats ; red cross and crescent associations. Municipal and State benevolence, as in hospitals, asylums, insurance, pensions, compensation, pro- tection of workers by factory acts ; etc. ; lighthouses. Public pardons and amnesties. International courtesies, assistance and fraternity. "Peace on earth, goodwill towards men." Here again are method, connexion, synthesis. We began with the familiar baby ; we close with inter- national fraternity. I ask if we are dealing fairly with our children when we brush aside common-sense and logical schemes such as these, and rely upon the random happenings of a Monday or a Tuesday in order to ex- tract hasty and ill-digested moral lessons from sudden oc- casions ? Glance through the two schemes just printed, ITS THEOEY AND PEACTICE 37 and observe how many of the points will seldom or never emerge in th« guise of "incidents" of the school life. Every normal child can apperceive ; every normal child delights to add new knowledge harmoniously to older knowledge, and to detect a similarity in cases that at first sight differ. We parents and teachers have no right to starve this scientific and philosophic instinct of the child. It is all for the good of society that, as early as mental and moral insight permit, the child should be trained in the comparison of varieties of conduct, in trac- ing the thread of principle running through scattered in- cidents and experiences, and in enlarging the ethical view from the family to the school, from the school to the club, the association, the co-operation of art, craft, business, and profession, and to the legislature, the Church, and the whole vast round of humanity and its planet. In short, moral and civic instruction can be systematic, should be systematic, and is most natural, interesting, and effec- tive when systematic. Instruction should develop into construction. Concrete Illustration. — In the history of the Jesuit missions in California it is related that, on one occasion, the Indians had assembled in a little church built by the brethren of St. Ignatius. Suddenly, in view of the con- gregation, a life-sized image of Christ crucified was exposed. Amazement and fear ensued. At first the natives scarcely dared gaze at the portentous figure. Then, gaining confidence, they whispered to one another : " Who is this ? Who killed him ? When ? Where ? Perhaps he was a victim captured in war." . . . The missionaries waited for silence, and then told the story of God Incarnate, the Saviour. 38 MORAL INSTRUCTION : This was religious instruction concretely presented. First, the symbol, then the doctrine. First, the drama, then the appeal. And here is the model for the ethical teacher. He must convey his moral instruction through concrete vehicles. Take an illustration from the labours of naturalists. At the period of the Renascence, and for a century or two ensuing, naturalists did little but crowd their rooms with stuffed animals, skeletons, dried plants, fossils, and the rest. But all this industry counted in the progress of science. It furnished a basis of observation on which meditation and generalization were destined to build the sciences of botany and zoology. The great philosophical biologists, Buffon, Lamarck, Darwin, and Haeckel, would come on the scene later, and draw grand conclu- sions. The concrete first, the abstract next. Watch a young child from morning till evening, and you will see that, all day long, he is occupied with a concrete world — mother, father, sisters, brothers, com- panions, food, drink, clothes, toys, wood, metal, stones, horses, sheep, cats, dogs, poultry, trees, flowers, grass, sun, sky, clouds, wind, rain, snow, pools, rivers, sea ; and these, with eye or lip, he questions incessantly, till the dusk falls, and parental love bends over the little sleeper. The concrete makes immediate appeal ; it sustains its appeal ; and the' concrete never wearies the small observer till nature kindly beckons the spirit of slumber, and hangs out the canopy of stars. Teacher, in this simple tableau, you read your syl- labus. The normal and healthy child is never fatigued by the concrete. It has sometimes happened that, in a ITS THEOKY AND PEACTICE 39 public demonstration, I have lengthened my lesson to a full hour, and the children showed no tokens of weari- ness. There are, it is true, ample reasons for not allow- ing ordinary lessons to go on for so long. I merely cite such experiences to indicate the strong and certain psychological basis which the child's interest in the concrete illustrations provides. In town or village, with the more stolid child or the more alert child, the con- crete illustration is always certain of a good reception. If you are prepared to open your discourse, like Shake- speare's " Tempest " with a shipwreck, like Lessing's " Nathan der Weise " with a rescue from a burning house, like Browning's charming poem with a Pippa springing out of bed, like the Gospel with shepherds watching their flocks by night, like the biography of David with the giant Goliath, you may face your young listeners without any doubt as to the character of their first impressions ; and " well begun is half done ". If you will continue with the same vivid human strokes that you opened with, and if you will close, as Dante closed with a vision of the Great White Eose, as Virgil closed with the death of Turnus, as the history of Moses closed with the view from Mount Pisgah, you will be humbly imitating some very great exemplars in the art of moral teaching. For, in truth, this device of instruct- ing by the aid of the concrete, is as old-fashioned as it is living, as classical as it is fascinating, as historic as it is quick to touch the conscience. Another important question can be solved by these considerations of the value of appeal through the con- crete. It has often been objected by the opponents of, or sceptics as to, the value of moral instruction, that IV 40 MOKAL INSTRUCTION : such teaching will lead to morbid self-analysis and in- trospection. The force of the objection entirely depends upon the nature of the method employed. An emotional call to the child to examine his heart, to test his motive, to abjure his sinful impulses, to cultivate a sense of his un worthiness, and so on, would often drive a sensitive scholar to an inner chamber haunted by doubts and fears. But before definitely replying to the objection, let us set out in order the various species of materials available for the purpose of concrete illustration : — 1. History, national, including other national his- tories than one's own ; municipal, e.g. Paris, London, Florence, Venice, Rome, Montreal, Philadelphia ; local and special, e.g. the Moors in Spain, the French Hugue- nots, the Quakers, monastic orders, Catholic and Pro- testant missions, anti-slavery, prison-reform, etc. 2. Biography and autobiography, lives of eminent statesmen, administrators, inventors, artists, engineers, religious leaders, political reformers, teachers, philan- thropic men and women, saints and martyrs. 3. Folk-lore of all nations, embracing a vast store of shrewd sense and moral admonition, amid much that is coarse, obsolete, or fanciful, e.g. the Buddhist "Jata- kas," the "Mabinogion," Red Indian myths, etc. 4. Classical and religious literature, e.g. the Bible, Talmud, Apocrypha, Koran, Buddhist Suttas, the " Mahabharata" and " Ramayana," the " Shah-nameh," the "Iliad," "Odyssey," "i^neid," the Greek tragedies and Greek mythology, Plutarch's " Lives," Dante's "Vision," Milton's "Paradise Lost," Bunyan's "Pil- grim's Progress," etc. 5. Art and Industry ; the history of art (e.g. cathed- ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 41 rals, painting), and of special crafts (e.g. agriculture, cotton-spinning), and of general labour, e.g. the story of slavery and serfdom, guilds and trades-unions, earth-con- quest and trade, etc. 6. Science, not as given in scientific manuals, but as associated with the lives and work of individual astro- nomers, physicists, chemists, biologists, social observers, and so on. One may name at random a few such illus- trious men as Archimedes, Newton, Faraday, Darwin, Agassiz, Pasteur, Liebig. 7. The world-panorama, displayed in varieties of national manners, customs, arts ; in works of descrip- tive sociology, and in books of travel. 8. Current life, presented in newspapers, magazines, and the educational side of the cinematograph. 9. Personal experience of the teacher ; passing inci- dents of home and school life ; news from friends abroad, old scholars, etc. Confronted with such an array of resources, the per- sistent objector may now cry out that the wealth of illustration is vast and overwhelming. The reply is, that these fields of illustration are only enumerated to show how rich the choice is, and that teachers may and should only select such aids as their individual tastes and the needs of their scholars direct. On the other hand, are we not entitled to claim that, in the presence of such an "aesthetic revelation of the world," there is very httle likelihood of the children being encouraged in habits of introspection and self-accusation ? Folk-lore is irradiated with humour ; biography teems with adven- ture ; travel yields abundance of surprises and hair- breadth escapes ; and sacred stories, as, for instance, 42 MOEAL INSTKUCTION : the life of David or of Kama, resound with the clash of arms. In fact, it would not be altogether wrong to allege that in the immense mass of picturesque details, the simple principles of right thought and conduct might be obscured or lost. I recall an occasion when I gave a class of girls and boys a lesson on " Self," a topic which laid itself open to the suspicion of introspection on a large scale. The gentleman who presided at the meet- ing would probably have pounced upon any indication of morbid dissection of the ego. Nevertheless, he was driven to quite another kind of criticism, for he com- plained that important sections of my lesson were so taken up with externals as to exclude morahty alto- gether ; which was precisely what I intended. The " moral " is like an actor who waits behind the sceneg, but must only enter the stage of consciousness when the progress of the drama calls. And thus the wide range and fullness of concrete illustrations serve two purposes — primarily, to provide vehicles which carry moral truth to the imagination and heart of the child ; and secondly, to engage the young mind with such a variety of external interests as will effectually prevent unwholesome concentration on inward experiences. A notable benefit accrues to the teacher. When, for example, the subject of " Self " was just now mentioned, some readers may have remarked, " It is all very well to state that, on this or that occasion, a judicious teacher dealt with the subject in a non-introspective manner, but what will be likely to hap- pen in the case of an unwise teacher ? " Of course, good teachers are sometimes unwise ; and many teachers are often unwise. If, however, it were impressed with due authority upon each teacher that he must choose concrete ITS THEOKY AND PEACTICE 43 modes of moral teaching, any indiscreet tendency to touch the sensitive springs too often or too unguardedly would be checked and modified by the very character of the material in which he worked. The Uses of Legend. — It may have been noticed that from the list of sources of illustration quoted in the preceding section, the subject of fiction was omitted. I say it with some diffidence, but it appears to me that fiction, while often possessing intrinsic excellence as a product of moral art, is not a suitable quarry from which to take material for moral lessons. Certainly children should be encouraged and guided in the reading of fiction — Goldsmith, Scott, Dickens, Louisa Alcott, Harriet Beecher Stowe, and the rest. That is not in question. The question is. Ought the teacher, when specifically engaged in the serious task of direct moral in- struction, to use with any frequency (for nobody would gainsay a very occasional use) the incidents and situa- tions of the popular novel ? Neither parents nor teachers ever take any pains to disguise the fact that novels are deliberately invented by literary artists, and this attitude is perfectly correct. But, when dealing with the issues and duties of life, and earnestly and reverently (while yet genially) persuading little souls into the Way of Eight, is it quite fair to cite the ingenious novelist who has consciously manufactured his ethical cases, and produced mock heroisms at will ? In order to keep clear of dogmatism, I quit the problem with that question. But can we admit the legend ? I have no hesitation in answering yes. Legend is not fiction in the strict sense of the word, even when it is disbelieved as matter 44 MORAL INSTRUCTION of historic fact. While the germ of a legend springs from an actual incident, or the mind of one individual imaginatively reporting it, it is finally a collective pro- duct embodying the thought of a community, and of a succession of reciters from generation to generation. It was never sold, never had copyright, and has been in most cases freely adapted by the popular moral spirit. It has received from the people the stamp which one sees on the fly-leaf of approved CathoHc publications, Nihil obstat — "No objection to this". No doubt a large number of legends are unsuited for children, owing to the ethical peculiarities or crudeness which char- acterize a primitive age or a people of lower culture. But when a legend harmonizes with the modern senti- ment, and deals with subjects within the children's understanding, it may be eminently adapted as a vehicle of moral suggestion. It may even go home to the young heart more penetratingly than so-called "facts" and " practical " proposals. This, after all, is the common- sense test ; and the legend has a value, not because it is imaginative, but because it really moves the conscience. " Better tell the youngsters to kick banana skins otf the foot-path," said a teacher to me, after I had been relating a legend to a class of children at a public meet- ing ; the topic being Social Service. Now I cheerfully accept the challenge of the banana skin. Of course we all wish the child to practise that helpfulness in the social highway, of which this disposal of the banana skin is a type. How will you go to work in creating the temper of helpfulness? You may, as parent or teacher, draw up a list of useful actions, and say : " Do this, do that " ; and the child may obediently ITS THEOKY AND PRACTICE 45 carry out your directions. But carrying out your direc- tions is not in itself morality. Or the child may quite honestly desire to prevent accidents to the public, and duly get rid of the banana skins ; but he may forget or overlook other duties, simply because he has not been told of them, or has not apprehended the principle on a broad enough basis. What you need to do is to make a vivid sketch of the public need, and then in some way make a vivid sketch of, and arouse admiration for, the attitude of willing service. On the occasion referred to, I sought to effect this object by telhng the legend of Curtius leaping into the mysterious gulf of the Borum at Rome, in order to close the peril to the citizens. Such a story provides the atmosphere of self-devotion, and reveals the fundamental civic spirit. Or tell this : — In t,he days when men, whether asleep or awake, saw angels in their dreams, there was a Jain saint whose life was so pure that heavenly spirits came down to look upon his gracious presence. His lips did not talk much of love ; but his daily actions spoke, and his smile carried the mes.sage of tenderness and forgiveness. The angels said to God : — "Grant this man the power to work miracles." " It shall be as you wish, " replied God, "ask him what power he wishes for." "Should you," asked the angels, "like to have power in your hands to heal the sick ? " •' No," he said ; and so also he said to other questions from his .shining friends. " But we are resolved that you shall possess some wondrous gift," they told him. "Then," said the man, meekly, " let me do good without know- ing it as I pass to and fro." What soft charm, what gentle influence could flow from the man in such wise that he himself knew uaui^ht of the good ho did 46 MOEAL INSTRUCTION: The angels thought of his shadow. Yes, his very shadow should bless the sad and the humble as he walked by. His shadow fell on dry ground, and it became gi-een with grass. It fell on faded flowers, and they bloomed anew. It fell on shallow brooks, and they swelled up in full, clear streams. It fell on pale children, and their cheeks flushed with a healthy red, and the mothers' hearts beat with joy. The folk hastened to place themselves within the blessed shadow of the saint. They said no word of prayer to him ; they cried no cry of praise. In silence the power flitted from the man to the people ; and they called him Holy Shadow. Such shadows may we all be ! ^ Here, then, is an imaginative picture of the man of goodwill, blessing the highway that he walks in ; and having established the beauty of the neighbourly prin- ciple, one may deduce all necessary details adapted to the conditions of East or West, of Bombay, or London, or New York. I hasten to add that legendary lore is no neces- sary part of moral instruction. There are many other methods, already enumerated, of arousing admiration for the noble temper of service. Nevertheless, if you dispense with such aids, do not forbid your colleagues, on grounds of false psychology, to avail themselves of these fruitful resources. The question arises. Ought we to tell the legend as if it were an historical happening ? The answer depends on the children's ages. Unless we are hopeless Scrooges and dull Gradgrinds, we are in the habit of telling fairy-tales without rigid notes of scientific interrogation. But I advise that, at the stage ' This legend, narrated in my own words in " Youth's Noble Path," is derived from the popular traditions of the Jains of India. ITS THEOKY AND PRACTICE 47 following the kindergarten, legends should be occasion- ally introduced with a smihng dubiousness. For example as in the story above given : — % In the days whea men, whether asleep or awake, saw angels in their di'cams^ This, however, is a literary turn of speech, suited rather to the printed paper. Here is a more direct mode : — In those wonderful, wonderful days when things happened that never could happen ! — Or,- I am going to tell you a tale that is not true, but it is one of those legends which you and I are fond of hearing ; and perhaps after all, there are true things in it, and we shall find them. If anybody supposes such a preface takes off the fine edge of the story, all I can say is that I have practised this bad method many scores of times, and never found it fail ! But when a teacher and class are familiar with each other's fashions of thought, even such a cautionary foreword becomes unnecessary. It will be enough to say, " This is a legend," and the children will make their silent footnotes. It may, however, happen that a child has been less carefully trained, and has been accustomed to hear legendary narratives recited in the tone of true history. He may suddenly inquire, ** Is that true ? " I should be inclined to reproach the child's parent, guardian, or teacher for allowing this embarrassing moment to occur. But, since it has occurred, what is to be done ? Respect the doubt, and reverence the doubter. Do not betray confusion, as if you had been detected in a 48 MORAL INSTRUCTION: psychological plot. Reply candidly, "Just as I tell it, no. But I tell it to you because of the beautiful secret it carries with it ; and it is the secret that matters > nothing else matters." If a child is old enough to quesr tion intelligently, it is old enough to receive an intelli- gent answer. I affirm this principle very deliberately, and in full awareness of the fact that it is applicable to a variety of subjects on which parents and teachers do not always display frankness. Sometimes, one hears the objection propounded, " But suppose the teacher admits the doubt, while the parents treat such narratives as literally exact ? " The objection is more academic than it may seem. At the worst it is open to the teacher to say, " Your mother and father may not treat these stories as I do ; but your mother, your father, and I all agree as to the good mean- ing which these stories carry to us in our daily life ". One last hint on this interesting topic. There comes a time when Santa Claas is discovered by young eyes to possess a quality they had not hitherto observed. He is not what he pretends to be ! You will surely know how to laugh at this critical moment, and you will have the presence of mind to suggest that, whatever he is, he is very amusing, and that the young discoverer will be ex- pected to assist you in maintaining the happy illusion for the benefit of his smaller brother or sister ! The Method of Negation and Censure. — The check, the emphatic No, and the frown are useful instruments of early education. Negation has been a powerful agent in the education of the race. Among savages it appeared in the form of Taboo. The Mosaic Law bristled with penalties ; the Code of Hammurabi catalogued many ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 49 crimes. The Decalogue was largely based on Shalt-nots. The soul of the dead Egyptian tells the gods what sins he has not committed : " Not a Httle child did I injure. Not a widow did I despise," and so forth. Indeed, a cursory search through the ancient faiths and codes re- veals an overwhelming proportion of the negative ele- ment in the government of conduct. These traditions strongly survive in modern home and school education. Don't is the keynote of ordinary parental counsel, and still retains peculiar favour with many teachers. It is obvious that prohibition of unhygienic, impru- dent, and anti-social action must occupy an important place in moral training, and in incidental and even in direct moral instruction. Dante's vision of the human soul and of moral destiny in the " Divine Comedy " necessarily included infernal scenes that repel, and the long-enduring pains that cleanse away sin on the ter- races of Purgatory. Reproof must be administered by the parent, and carelessness, cruelty, and impurity must be rebuked by the teacher. Nevertheless, censure should rather be meted out as physicians administer drugs that are poisonous, in somewhat scanty measures. Rebukes rained down upon an offending child by an angry mother or father often enough result in deplorable indifference to all reproof whatever ; and the scolding teacher notori- ously loses hold on the discipline as well as the affec- tions of the scholars. Most grievous injury is done to the delicate soul of the child by the indiscriminate blame which visits all faults alike with the same sternness or the same fury. Relativity is the very essence of just dealing, and though the child does not understand the term, he understands the thing ; and if you persist in 4 50 MOKAL IN8TRUCTI0N: upbraiding a small offence with as much energj' as if it were criminal, you are undermining conscience, and poisoning the sources of morality. This instrument of censure must be used as sparingly and as tenderly as possible. In a well-conducted house- hold it should seldom be needed. Undoubtedly it must be employed in the public school, and in the presence of the class as well as in private. Sometimes the whole con- demnation should be expressed before the offender's school- fellows. Sometimes the child and the teacher should beat out the problem by themselves. And sometimes, after brief indication of the fault in public, the rest of the rebuke and the counsel should be administered in private. But the teacher who imagines that moral instruction fulfils itself in the treatment of such incidents is making a most serious mistake. Dangerous as the practice of censure is always hable to become, it is not merely liable, it is certain to work evil if it assumes the foremost place in moral instruction. Rebuke, justly and timely applied, may brace the individual soul (" Damn braces ; bless relaxes ! " says Blake). But when the individual is ab- sorbed into the class ; when the theme is raised from a private message to a public principle ; when the casual incident gives way to a general view of a process, then the teacher and his scholars should be in search of the highest values, the highest visions, the highest inspira- tions. It is a sacrilege to overlay the altar with a pall ; to fill the chalice with aloes ; and to present morality guised in awful warnings. I have seen schemes of lessons containing such subjects as Anger, Lying, Theft, Envy, Cruelty, Intemperance, and the like. Such a method defeats its own end. Whoever learned to write ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 51 well by constantly looking at ill-shaped letters ? Who- ever appreciated mercy by gazing at exhibitions of cruelty ? Whoever discovered manliness by the study of sneaks and cowards ? No sane educationist will suggest that vice should be concealed like the face of the Veiled Prophet of " Lalla Rookh ". Life and story inevitably furnish ample in- stances of the repulsive and the sad. Let these dark shadows come in their own invincible sureness. Our part should be to reveal beauty, to spread light, to kindle joy, to evoke courage, to praise. To play this part calls for creative effort, while to complain, to condemn, to prohibit demand a minimum of moral intelligence, and may even imply a maximum of inefhciency. Obedience. — It will be convenient to discuss at this point the moral aspects of obedience, both in training and as a subject of instruction. Strictly speaking, we may say of obedience, as we said of character, that it is a non-moral act or habit. To allow a child to think that obedience is necessarily good is to impart a concep- tion which life and truth will assuredly destroy. Epic poetry has taught us this simple, but much-neglected fact. A lurid passage in Dante's " Inferno " portrays a troop of demons obedient to the obscene Barbariccia. The troop of ten let Barbariccia lead. And Milton depicts a captain to whom vast armies of ghostly vassals rendered prompt obedience : — High on a throne of royal state which far Outshone the wealth of Ormuz and of Ind, Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold, Satan exalted sat. 4 * 52 MORAL INSTRUCTION: What art thus truly teaches, home aud school educa- tion has frequently forgotten. Obedience is ambiguous in quality. It prompts a weak or immature nature to comply with a superior will. It may be nothing but the servile bending before a prohibition or a threat. It may be an unquestioning habit, morally indifferent and mechanical in its march. It may be the loving response to love, and trust in affec- tionate guidance. Since it is easier to coerce a young and plastic will than to train it by wise kindness, the indolence of parent or teacher will, in many cases, con- tent itself with exacting, and even glorifying obedience, as a good in itself. A yet baser motive is the instinct of domination, which exalts itself at the expense of feebler natures. I am fully conscious that these remarks will be treated with suspicion on the one hand, by martinets, and, on the other hand, by nervous persons who detect in them a drift towards anarchy. But it is time that we shook off the feudalism of a method of discipline well adapted to past conditions and ill-adapted to present. "Submission," said Comte, "is the basis of all im- provement, first physical ; then intellectual ; lastly, and above all, moral improvement." Submission, or obedi- ence, is the means to the noble end of improvement, whether of the body by obedience to the rules of hygiene, or of the reason by obedience to the laws of logic, or of personal and social conduct by obedience to the demands of the larger life. It is the duty of parents and teachers to place obedience in the light of this universal principle. Hence their primary effort should be devoted to showing the child how they themselves — parent and teacher — ITS THEOEY AND PKACTICE 53 are willing to obey. It would be irrelevant here to dis- cuss the mutual responsibilities of husbands and wives. I venture, however, to point to a fact which is as signi- ficant as it is obvious to the attentive eye, namely, that as a matter of experience and independently of theory, husbands and wives do obey each other in every well- ordered household. ' Not only so, but these obediences are often of such a character that they can easily, by a little exercise of tact, be rendered visible and instructive to an intelligent child. In the domestic routine, in the nurs- ing of sick members of the family, and in meeting certain emergencies of home life, the wife spontaneously regu- lates, and is spontaneously obeyed. In other cases, which vary with the personalities and circumstances concerned, the husband spontaneously regulates, and is spontaneously obeyed. How simple and how beautiful is the inference which can be so readily expressed to the young son or daughter, "You see how father, how mother, obeys. We are glad when you, too, obey as we do." In the school the same lesson will be con- veyed by the obedience of the teacher to his superiors, and to the by-laws or codes which embody the public will ; and the meaning of this discipline should be sys- tematically explained to the scholars. Such lessons should be reinforced by hints drawn from many subjects — arithmetic, geometry, mechanics, chemical experi- ments, and the like, to the effect that only by honest recognition of, and compliance with, the order of nature and reason, can we live on good terms with our universe. Story, poetry, and imaginative suggestion should con- verge in revealing how figures obey, how planets obey, how solids, liquids, and gases obey ; how mem- 54 MOEAL INSTKUCTION : bers of family and city and international unions obey. Nevertheless, it is a sign of inferior family govern- ment or school government when arguments on obedi- ence frequently raise their disagreeable clatter. To put the point somewhat bluntly, it is the parent, not the child, upon whom rests the responsibility of obedi- ence. A sensible mother and father can command the situation from the cradle onwards. Gently and imperceptibly the control may so deepen and widen its influence that the child comphes without friction or sullenness. On occasion, by some genial device of games and merry make-believe, the parents may hand themselves over to the authority of the child, and follow the programme of the monarch or president of the gay hour ; for submission is the basis of play as well as of science. Setting aside cases of abnormal and defective children, it may be affirmed that the disobedience of a son or daughter is directly traceable to the fault of one or both of the parents. The parents who loudly insist on obedience are proclaiming, with cruel irony, their own failure and ignorance. The difficulties they have created are passed on to the unfortunate teacher, and may be increased by the teacher in turn, if he also regards obedience as a mere convenience or a per- quisite instead of a universal principle. For these reasons I am inclined to recommend that obedience should not be introduced, as a formal topic, into a scheme of moral instruction, but that, at all points, it should be shown operating in aid of love, considerateness, peace, justice, and veracity. A lesson now and then on the specific theme of obedience would. ITS THEOEY AND PKACTICE 55 of course, be useful and wholesome ; but I should deprecate isolated stress upon a quality which is so essentially a means to an end. If, however, this should seem too much to ask, then I would propose that obedi- ence should take rank, not with the true moral activi- ties, such as generosity and kindness, but with those executive or character-quahties which provide the machinery of the goodwill. The Positive Method.^ — The prophet Mohammed, being asked "What is the greatest vice of man?" re- plied, " You must not ask me about vice, but ask about virtue " ; and he repeated this three times. In this significant anecdote we find the principle of the positive method of moral instruction, as against the negative, or prohibitionist method. No one can pretend that this principle is new either in general ethics, or in the ethical training of children, but it has been treated with singular neglect. In many a home one hears a perpetual refrain of " Do not do that ". Story-books for the young abound in such personages as naughty boys and disobedient girls, who are portrayed as awful warnings. The moral instruction in schools is too often limited to lectures administered in the presence of a class, to culprits who have assaulted school-fellows, stolen or injured property, told or acted a lie, spoken abusively or foully, disturbed order, broken rules, and exhibited a lack of respect for persons in authority. I affirm most earnestly that this procedure, though quite legitimate in itself, and more or less necessary, ought not to be regarded as an adequate ^ This chapter was contributed to the Proceedings of the Second International Moral Education Congress^ held at the Hague, August, 1912. 56 MOKAL INSTRUCTION: fulfilment of the duties of moral teaching. Nor do I believe modern educationists are contented with this restricted view. Both in England and the United States I have met teachers who most eagerly accepted the sug- gestion that it was time to break the traditions of nega- tivism. The positive method is scientific. Open any manual of physical or sociological science, and you are immediately confronted with affirmations ; you are told how things and organisms behave, whither they tendi and what are the laws of their being and action. The chemist, for example, will occupy your attention mainly with the attributes and wonders of oxygen ; and only incidentally v^ll he inform you what oxygen is not, and what it will not do. If we ask why the method of pro- hibition has so long governed the home and the class- room, the reason is found in the tentative and immature character of the science and art of education. A crude government or a crude moral code always places its chief reliance on the command " Do not ". If, again, we in- quire why the crude ethics should possess a negative character, we perceive that only in this way could the actual qualities of the moral self be revealed. By marking off a whole catalogue of actions that ought not to be done, the primitive legislator or teacher was more or less unconsciously bringing to light the noble figure of the true and affirmative moral life. The prophet who cried " Do not " was preparing the road for the prophet who was to proclaim "Act thus". The first prophet belonged to the era of immaturity ; the second, of joyous self-development, or, as Bergson would say, creative evolution. The training of the child, in which is con- densed the past discipline of the race, naturally begins ITS THEORY AND PEACTICE 57 with prohibitions, and the voice "Do not" murmurs over the cradle itself. Our mistake has consisted in over-prolongation of this kind of control. At latest, the age of affirmation should begin w^ith the kindergarten class ; let us say the age of 5 or 6 years ; it being under- stood that it is delayed in the case of the defective child. Indeed, the very essence of inefficiency consists in the wearisome but inevitable continuation of the No, and the non-arrival of the Yes. But most children are normal, and are capable of efficiency ; and therefore the parent or teacher who habitually forbids or upbraids, fails to recognize the call of the child's nature, and, in an edu- cational sense, injures and even insults the growing soul. The discovery of the true self means the unveiling of one's capacities for love, order, and progress. " Love," that is to say companionship in play or task in home or school, mutual service, mutual consideration, respect for age, tenderness towards the infirm, kindness to animals — this activity being an unfolding of innate social in- stincts, which experience a joy in coming to fruition. " Order," that is to say, a sense of personal hygiene, of neatness and efficiency in the arrangement of one's belongings ; natural and cheerful relations towards the family and the circle of friendships ; the correct and pleasant use of language as applied to the observation of nature, or the expression of feeling ; the fulfilment of the simple duties of home, school, and juvenile associa- tions, and the obedience to regulation and law by which the child, in common with parents and teachers, proves its spirit of co-operation. " Progress," that is to say, a delight in improvement, physical, artistic, intellectual, practical ; this improvement being not merely a larger 58 MOKAL INSTEUCTION: conformity with school requirements and a larger success in school examinations, but rather a happy conscious- ness of increased powers of execution and of service as a member of the family, the community, and the race. To evoke a desire for this self-realization, therefore, moral instruction must appeal above all to the faculty of admiration. Never will it be guilty of discourses specially devoted to the themes of deceit, envy, ill- temper, dishonesty, cruelty, injustice, bad manners, and the like. These things will only appear as shadows in the positive picture of worthy conduct. They should be detested because they mar the purity of a pattern which the young soul is learning to revere and admire. The chosen theme must be the vahant Achilles, not the mean Thersites ; Ulysses, not Polyphemus or Circe ; William the Silent, not Philip the Second ; St. Vincent de Paul, not the Pirates of Barbary ; the conqueror of wild beasts and morasses and floods, not the destroyer of men and cities ; the healer, not the poisoner ; the artist, not the iconoclast ; the man strong in temper- ance and goodwill, not the drunkard or the slave of passion ; a Grinling Gibbons, whose Dutch genius adorned so many English mansions with exquisite oak- carvings, not the duelhst, the robber, the smuggler, the "Apache" who wounds or outwits the police. This habitual presentation of fine examples should develop in the child a sentiment of membership in the common- wealth of the noble. Which is the grander ideal for the teacher — to display before the child's imagination only an occasional illustration of generosity or justice, and to say, " Strive to follow such a one " ; or to surround the child with so great a " cloud of witnesses " to the • ITS THEOKY AND PEACTICE 59 glorious dynamic of goodness that, without exhortation, the young soul insensibly approaches, and according to its ability, even imitates ? It is a question well worth serious study whether the regime of exhortation ought not now to close ; whether moral advice might not now be lowered to a very subordinate place ; retained as- suredly for certain critical moments in school-experience and in private difficulties, but no longer enthroned as the characteristic function of parent or teacher. The youth who imitates because he admires is likely to do more than imitate ; he may create a fresh type, and initiate a new enterprise ; at any rate, he will be more ready to do so in response to the stimulus of admiration than to the spur of the maxim maker. Another whole- some consequence of the use of the positive method will be the firm association of moral ideas with experiences of hope and joy and encouragement. It is an obsolete psychology which finds in a child's distress the most effective preparation for the distresses of adult life, or in the griefs engendered by the censure of parent or teacher, a preparation for the griefs which time and destiny bring, with impartial feet, to the threshold of each mortal man. Courage and endurance spring from cheerfulness, confidence, joy, self-affirmation ; not from the exposure of faults and the depressing reminders of failure. Therefore, moral education will provide all possible opportunities for the proof of healthy abihties for personal improvement, strenuous purpose and civic service ; and moral instruction will invest the child's mind and feeling with an atmosphere of the heroic, the sane, the admirable, the constructive, the aesthetic, the helpful, the stimulating. 60 MOKAL INSTRUCTION: The positive method also exerts a bracing and bene- ficent reaction upon the teacher. He will himself be prompted to seek out the nobler issues of life and con- duct, so as to lend to them his influence and skill. He will actually see more of the world, of man, and nature ; and, seeing more, he will feel the enthusiasm of being able to interpret more, and to unroll before the vision of his pupils a more ample revelation, aesthetic and moral, of the world of history, affairs, and daily duty. It is true (and the difficulty must be frankly acknowledged) that he will find it a far more laborious task to pursue the positive method than the negative. Take, for in- stance, the topic of temperate habits. How easy to depict the staggering drunkard, his wretched family, his forlorn home ! How far from easy to paint in brilliant colours the steady, self-possessed citizen who follows the even tenor of duty, and causes no public sensation ! But this more worthy achievement can be accomplished, and must be accomplished. Permit me to give a passing hint as to the mode of solving the problem. If the teacher has an adequate knowledge of botany, he may describe the experimental gardens in which Luther Burbank, the famous horticulturist of California, evolves new species of plants and fruits. He may rapidly sketch the skilled gardeners at work in the processes of poUination, grafting, budding, sowing, weeding. He will suggest the important consequences that hang upon the care and vigilance exercised by Burbank's assistants. Then let him add the striking fact that, in order to secure the highest order of delicacy and discrimination in the handhng of the plants, Burbank framed the following regulation : "No workman may use tobacco ITS THEOKY AND PRACTICE 61 or liquor in any form, or any manner of stimulant that will befog a brain, or benumb a nerve ". Such a picture of efficacy in garden-craft, resulting in a great variety of benefits to the community, is a vivid illustration of the positive method of moral instruction. To adhere to this principle in the choice of examples for a specific lesson on duty, veracity, justice, self-control, courage, and the rest ; or in the recital of a biography ; or in the continued study of the national history, or of the march of civilization — this is an enterprise that demands the highest qualities of which nature and art have made the teacher capable. Arduous the way, but substantial the reward. To influence the young soul by such positive and fertile methods is the happiest employment of the teaching genius, and raises both instructor and instructed to the veritable poetry of moral education. Should the Child's Universe supply most of the Ex- amples ? — On a kind of homoeopathic principle, it is sometimes contended that the examples of the moral life presented to children should be drawn from the child's own universe of thought and experience. Why (it is asked) give the children examples of adult struggles, achievements, and character ? Are not these illustrations derived from a sphere too far distant to appeal to a conscience which is alive only to its im- mediate problems? The first remark that one is prompted to make is that such a restriction would result in an overturn of accepted methods. Not that the destructive nature of the change would in itself be a condemnation, but it is important to observe what the change would imply. The Christian Gospel would be excluded except in so G2 MORAL INSTRUCTION: far as it covered the incidents of Bethlehem, the FHght into Egypt, and the Conversation with the Sages in the Temple. In moral instruction the teacher would reveal only the childhood-episodes of the biographies of patri- archs, prophets, reformers, and pioneers. He would point a lesson only as it applied to the daily life of the scholar in school, play, home, and the circle of juvenile friendships. It should, of course, be recognized that a certain pro- portion of the examples ought to be taken from child-life, and that a certain proportion of the teacher's efforts should be directed towards the immediate duties and the emergencies of the daily round. It would be a strange system which lifted the child's eyes to the obligations of a future career, and had next to nothing to say concerning the present day and its morrow. We may therefore readily admit the value of two practices : — 1. The teacher should, with some frequency, relate child-life stories. For instance : — Augusta T. Drane (afterwards Mother Francis Raphael, O.S.D. ) was much troubled with the difficulty of pronouncing the letter k, and she would say "tins andtweens " for "kings and queens," and "playing my tails" for "playing my scales". Kitty the cook said, "Bless the child, she can't say kitchen yet!" Augusta suffered great anguish at the reproach, and she retired to the solitude of the laurel bushes in the garden, and there, for a long time, practised the troublesome word. At last she succeeded. Rushing to the kitchen window she shouted, " Here, Kitty, Liddy, Judy, come quick ! " The maids ran out in alarm, and Augu.sta burst into a triumphant cry of " Kitchen ! ". The story is charming in its child-psychology, and in its dramatic picture of a happy perseverance. 2. The teacher should, every now and then, by hint, ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 63 or by direct question, lead the children's minds to the fields of work and duty which lie about them in the daily familiar world, and more particularly that of the household and its filial and fraternal relations, and per- haps domestic service. The inquiry, " What could you do in such and such circumstances for mother, father, brother, sister, or servant? " is perfectly legitimate. So also is the inquiry which presses closer, " What have you done, or what are you in the habit of doing? " I am bound, however, to add that, in my judgment, such inquiries need the greatest possible circumspection. They may elicit rephes that minister to vanity or hypo- crisy. They may draw avowals from only the more talkative section of the class, while the truly heroic little figures (one thinks of Cordelia) preserve a modest reticence. On the other hand, if the teacher, instead of asking questions of this character, makes a point of fill- ing out instruction with advice, and closing every lesson with an appeal to "do the right " to-day and to-morrow, it is open to doubt whether his instruction has been as living and significant as it should be. If he has pre- pared his materials with care, and narrated his examples with spirit, they should, as a rule, carry their owii message, and need no appendix, or, at any rate, only a brief one, of personal counsel. In the history of educa- tion, the era of exhortation ought now to terminate. The twentieth century calls for the " aesthetic revela- tion of the world " instead. Moreover, the method of restricting examples mainly to the child universe is really an attempt to adapt edu- cation to the present moment, whereas the chief object of education is to train the child for the future. As a 64 MOEAL INSTRUCTION : matter of fact, children take a joy in hearing of the exploits, dithculties, and victories of the grown-up world ; for these dramatic scenes indicate such parts as they themselves hope to play, and the destinies which they themselves wish, whether in sorrow or gladness, to share. What normal child would prefer the adventures of a juvenile marooner on a village pond and its toy is- land to the manly valour of Crusoe ? What girl would sooner listen to the recital of the woes of a ten-year old Betty than to the story of Antigone or Joan of Arc, or Marie Antoinette? One may even suspect that such child-romances as " Alice in Wonderland " are often more popular with parents than with children, and the anec- dotes of child-life which set the adult table in a roar will perhaps seem flat and witless to a younger auditory. Why confine the child's spirit to the cage of the Present and the Proximate ? Why not let it roam and explore ? Why bar out adventure from the moral quest ? Why forbid the young soul to go out in search of Holy Grails, even though the search leads to imaginative realms where a mystic song — , Charms magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery Lvnds forlorn ? There is, however, one phase of child-narrative which possesses the highest value and interest for, both teacher and taught : I mean the story of the Process of Becom- ing which links a generous youth with a generous adult- hood. For example : — Anne Biget, a litLle peasant-girl of Franche Comte, mot some poor prisoners-of-war on the bridge at Besan^on, and gave them some cakes which she had intended for her sister. She became a lay-sister under the name of Martha. Sister Martha visited the ITS THEOEY AND PEACTICB 65 prisons of Paris during the Terror, performing works of mercy, and to her house came distressed children, and the sick and aged. In 1805 a cottage was on fire ; Sister Martha rushed in and saved three inmates. Two years later she rescued a drowning child from the river Doubs. In 1816-17, when famine wasted southern France, she collected large sums in Paris, and then hurried to the relief of the peasants, feeding some 2000 persons daily. She died in 1824. This illustration is a most admirable type of a moral life in process. It is drawn from actual biography. It not only evokes the sympathy of child for child by the incident of the prisoners on the bridge, but it portrays, in a simple and striking manner, the expansion of the soul, developing the early instinct of kindness into a wide activity of blessing. The Choice of Stories. — No matter how varied are the excellent collections of stories now available, it is advisable that the teacher should choose material afresh, with a view to his own taste and to the special character of his pupils. The sources are practically these : Sacred Scriptures, poetry, folk-lore, legend, history (general, local, scientific, industrial, etc.), biography, travels, magazines, newspapers, and personal informa- tion and experience. The points which guide selection are : — 1. Actuahty, and dramatic quality, as distinguished from reflection and commentary. A good story should require no laborious preface ; indeed, it should, as a rule, require no preface at all. For instance, I once ad- dressed a meeting of a hundred children, the ages rang- ing from 5 to 15, and the difficult task entrusted to me was to sustain their interest for forty minutes. I faced the enterprise without trepidation because I had armed 5 66 MOKAL INSTEUCTION : myself with five stories, each of which opened with an arresting situation. It is unnecessary to give the de- tails of the subject dealt with, but I reproduce the com- mencements in order to convey the impression of actu- ality which I sought to realize : — (o) The houses were falling ; people ran into the streets ; brick and stone and timber fell in masses, and buried men^ women, and children ; and voices were heard calling for help . . . (6) People looked at one another and said, '^ Will it come to our town next? " From town to town the terrible thing went, — the plague of cholera went. Men suddenly fell sick . . . (c) Boys sat at their desks in a school in the United States. A knock at the door— a man entered with a little boy. "Can you take this child into your school?" he asked. The teacher looked sour . . . (d) There was an altar [rapidly sketched on blackboard^ and on it stood two silver candlesticks ; and before it the abbot knelt in prayer . . . (e) Over a desert and over sandhills, camels— hump-backed camels — were slowly travelling. A French lady sat on one of the camels . . . It would be a mistake to conclude that this method implies sensationalism or the absence of the quieter trains of thought. The best place for the introduction of such reflections is in the very midst of the narration itself. But this point will be reverted to at a later stage. 2. Brevity ; that is to say, such conciseness of inci- dent as will permit the story to be related, as a rule, within five or ten minutes. It stands to reason that brevity is not indispensable ; but it is of great use in focussing the children's attention on moral issues, and in preventing the teacher from wandering into regions that are irrelevant to the immediate theme. The chief aim of a moral lesson is to arrive at a judgment, and the ITS THEOEY AND PKACTICE 67 brief story has the merit of rapidly reviewing the ma- terial, and assisting readiness and clearness in the verdict. 3. Breeziness ; freedom from sentimentality. The normal child does not like a sentimental story, that is, a story so told that it places the stress on pathos which is inadequately governed by common sense or humour. The melting mood, unless quitted almost as soon as- entered upon, is apt to provoke derisive smiles or em- barrassment. This by no means implies a disinclination to seriousness. Children wish to be treated seriously, and they wish to be confronted by grave and even tragic problems, if so suggested as to avoid rude invasion of their sensitiveness. Hence it is always a good custom to pause for an occasional stroke of mirth. Morality is never injured by joy. It is a very fastidious objection which will not accept stories from remote countries or remote times. Un- doubtedly, instruction is for life, and should be redolent of life ; but a tale from ancient India, or from the modem San Francisco or Tasmania, may be as full of teaching for an English child of to-day as a local adven- ture recounted in this morning's journal. The manner of narration may give modernity to antiquity ; and an attempt to limit the instruction largely to incidents of everyday experience would produce but a drab and in- different result. While, however, avoiding common- placeness, one must equally avoid an over-emphasis on the heroic element. It is extremely unwise to give young souls the impression that a good life falls short unless its adventures are startling. One fears that harm has been done by the too frequent association of moral instruction with deeds of " derring-do ". The 5* 68 MOEAL TNSTKUCTION: teacher should choose instances from retired and un- iUustrious spheres, as well as from the class of actions which are rewarded by public applause and favours. Good Children need Moral Instruction. — A singular opinion has arisen in certain social circles to the effect that moral instruction is specially designed to reform the bad manners of slum children, or to put a decent polish on boys who begin to develop tokens of hooligan- ism. Viewed in this light, moral instruction would appear to be a kind of penal exercise, or at least a dis- cipline from which " good " children might be excused. In that case, our present study might almost be classi- fied under criminology. The burden of the world thirty years hence will rest upon that immense multitude who are now known as the good children ; that is to say, children who have good propensities, whose sympathies are normal, whose manners are orderly, and whose energies are enlisted on the side of industry and service. If, with Plato, we call these our future Guardians, we shall recollect from Plato's pages that the Guardians, and not the slaves, are educated in music and gymnastics for the duties of ad- ministering the commonwealth. Fenelon was selected — and he thought it worth while — to devote his benevolent genius to the education of a prince. Pestalozzi, Froebel, and Herbart would have been greatly surprised, had they been claimed primarily as agents for the reclama- tion of juvenile delinquents. The truth is that good children need moral instruction quite as much as the so-called bad, and, in a certain sense, even more ; for they are likely to yield society a more fruitful return for the pains bestowed. We might as well regard book- ITS THEOEY AND PKACTICE 69 keeping as useful to prodigal sons rather than for bankers and merchants, as suppose that moral instruc- tion is valid chiefly for the ill-natured and neglected. Of course the ill-natured and neglected deserve every care at the hands of the moral educationist, ^but we need not, therefore, dismiss the well-nurtured and good- mannered child from our attention. Good children often suffer from one or more of the following defects : — 1. Narrowness of moral vision. They are apt to imagine that goodness lies within a groove of circum- scribed custom and duty. A child who is good in the family limits may be wanting in elementary courtesies and consideration towards a servant or a humble stranger. A child who is good at school may be the annoyance of a household. The eyes of the soul are shortsighted. It is in such cases that the teacher may help by quoting a variety of examples which go to prove how a fine impulse becomes finer when its action ex- tends from one circle to yet wider circles, and that responsibility reaches to the utmost verge of humanity. 2. Respect for specific commands rather than prin- ciples. The child who scrupulously performs the obli- gations of his little world without knowing why this obedience is worthy is the foreshadow of a man who pays his dues in business and conforms with the laws of the land, and yet does not possess a full sense of civic fellowship and general human fraternity. Such an ex- emplary person is a respectable inhabitant rather than a citizen, and a loyal groom rather than a co-partner. 3. Ignorance of the inevitable ties which bind them to the so-called bad. Morality does not legislate for 70 MOKAL INSTKUCTION: a world of homogeneous spirits. Poverty brings its strange bed-fellows, and destiny links the hero and the villain, the saint and the vulgar, the philosopher and the scatter-brained ; and our teaching must proceed on the assumption that the moral life must be lived in a universe of medley characters. Hence instruction must reveal both the problems of this miscellaneous citizen- ship and the many-sidedness of the service which we are called upon to render. It is vital to the efficiency of the just man that he should know the evil quaHties of his less well-disposed neighbours, and that he should also be trained to discern their better qualities amid their glar- ing faults. On a smaller scale the child must learn the same fundamental facts. 4. Vanity. Before, and since, the days of the Phari- sees (who were by no means lacking in s6lid virtues, if Hebrew history speaks truly), the world has felt repelled by the goodness of the good. A very natural mode of correcting this egoism is the commingling of all sorts and conditions of children (except the grossly vicious) in the class, and the discussion with them of many kinds of motives and conduct. The tendency to self-centred - ness (which is not the same thing as selfishness) is gradually diminished by the genial influence of inter- change of thought, and the progress of imagination. It is a poor moral instruction class which does not cultivate that wholesome common-sense, illumined with humour, which is the very life-blood of virtue. On the other hand, a less frequent error must be guarded against, namely, that victims of an imperfect social order should be left out of the moral instruc- tion circle altogether. On one occasion I had taught a ITS THEOEY AND PKACTICE 71 group of obviously poor children in a chapel school-room, and, on discussion being invited, a woman protested, in a tone both honest and indignant, that education should wait till such children were fed ; or (she added) if they were taught anything at all, it should be a lesson of rebellion against the miserable conditions from which they suffered. With the motive of this critic I cordially sympathized, for there can be no deeper irony than talk- ing of citizenship (my theme had been social service) to ill-nourished scholars. Yet the irony is unavoidable. The spirit of reform itself, however inspired by a just hatred of evil, cannot achieve permanent good results without a conscience that understands and a will that is disciplined. Contrariance. — Some vogue has been given to the difficulty of contrariance, that is, the instinctive self- defence of young natures against the impact of moral and religious instruction. The more you advise (so the theory runs), the more these healthy souls decline to be ordered about by a well-meaning method of edifying counsel. Previous pages have so candidly dwelt upon the uselessness of mere moralizing, either to contrariant or to submissive children, that it is not necessary to treat this objection at any marked length. A sound moral instruction involves the co-operation of the child, and this co-operation is ensured by two means, — the teacher must capture the child's interest ; and he must teach as if he were convinced that the child will spontaneously react to the revelation of the True, the Beautiful, and the Good. Contrariance will mean that the young spirit takes no interest in the material of in- struction — homily, maxims, and the rest ; or feels that 72 MOKAL INSTKUCTION : the instruction is too definitely intended as an attack upon its self-respect and upon the inner citadel of its personahty. Now, the very object of moral education and moral instruction is to disclose the fundamental sympathy between the needs of society and the child's own instincts, intellect, and powers. Except in the case of weak-minded and abnormal children, this sympathy can always be established, and if contrariance is ex- hibited, it is a sure sign that the teacher's methods have been ill-timed or aggressive. Adolescents — who are consciously growing selves, and therefore hyper-sensitive selves — will, of course, be more contrariant than children below the limit of puberty. In adolescence, the harvest of unwise treatment in the preceding stages must be reaped in sorrow ; and the child who was once considered docile and impression- able may revolt in determined moroseness and rancour. Young natures that are handled in early years with injudicious disregard of dehcate springs and suscepti- bilities lie quiet, so to speak, for a period, and then, at the age of 16 or 17 to 21, may develop a lamentable resentment against the parent who has so foolishly tampered with a sensitive temperament, and may arm themselves with an unsocial and painful sullenness. Such natures react violently against moral advice and exhortation. All this amounts to saying that, where contrariance exists in an adolescent, it may be an indi- cation of the unwisdom of a parent or a teacher. Possibly, also (I make the suggestion with reluctance) , some of the trouble of contrariance arises from a certain artificiality in the social environment. There are spiri- tual areas in our complex modern life where, owing to ITS THEOEY AND PKACTICE 73 economic and other causes which need not here be dis- cussed, the touch with fundamental human realities is partially lost. The primal duties do not " shine aloft like stars ". Within the family circle a species of genuine loyalty and attachment exists. Towards the outer world, however, the outlook lacks the fine human understanding. Society is regarded as a scope for pro- fessional advancement, personal pleasures, and flattering recognitions. In such an atmosphere young minds tend to scepticism ; that is to say, to a precocious cynicism which is ashamed of a manly and cheerful trust in hu- manity, and which guards itself, with a curiously inverted sense of duty, against a supposed danger of being cheated and out-manoeuvred in the social game. Not the teacher, but the unnatural universe in which the young soul is placed, must be blamed for such so-called contrariance. The tendency to unpleasant casuistry which manifests itself in these contrariant cases must be met, not by laboured arguments, but by frank and kindly affirmation of the essential charities and reverences. For myself, I declare that the more I see of children in the first fourteen years of life, the more I am im- pressed by their normahty. I have addressed them and conversed with them, in the intimate manner which moral instruction is supremely fitted to encourage, on hundreds of occasions, in villages and towns, in the drawing-rooms of the wealthy and in obscure halls in proletarian back streets, in the United Kingdom and in a variety of cities in America, and I assert that the average child-mind is entirely normal in its willing response to moral appeal, and in its acceptance of the solemn obligations of justice, mercy, sincerity and duty. 74 MOEAL INSTKUCTION: And, no doubt, in spite of apparent indifference, eccen- tricity and egoistic frowardness, the heart of the average adolescent retains the basic sympathies of the earlier years. Instead of regarding the adolescent as a mystical being, possessed of an abnormal psychology, we should make both him and ourselves more comfortable if we manifested a common-sense faith in his sanity and receptiveness. Dangers of Emotionalism. — Both religious and moral instruction are subject to the danger of emotionalism. The systematic instruction which the present work constantly urges is in itself a counter-agent of this evil ; for the continuous training of the judgment on moral issues is the best safeguard against the flooding of the soul by streams of sentiment and impulse. In France, indeed, where systematic instruction has been practised for many years, the danger might be described, in quite opposite terms, as being liability to excess of rationaliz- ing and defect of imagination ; though it should be added that far-seeing educationists in that country have already perceived the undesirable drift, and are striving to impart a larger sweetness and light to methods which have been too Kantian in the past. The question, however, should not be dismissed with- out a reminder that emotionalism is perennially employed by folly and vice, as well as by injudicious teachers of virtue. The novel, the theatre, the fashionable craze, and the latest fancy in popular agitation afford ample evidence of the effectiveness of emotionalism. The evid- ence is too patent to need description. But two com- ments may be appended. In the first place, one may reasonably claim that, since the emotionalism of folly ITS THEOEY AND PEACTICE 75 and vice acts with such undeniable efficacy, the teacher may use the remedial aid of emotion on the side of the nobler instincts, judgments, and capacities. It may even be affirmed that the passions of the Good Will surpass in thoroughness and intensity the passions of the un- disciplined and wayward will. In the second place, the fear of emotionalism is in itself a proof of the instinctive belief in the communicableness of vice and folly. But, psychologically, there is no distinction between the current of feehng which is directed towards selfishness, and that which is directed towards an enthusiasm for the service of the Larger Life. In each case, a word, an attitude, a gesture, a story, or the creation of an atmosphere may result in an uprush of powerful senti- ment. Which driver shall harness the steed of feeling depends upon the genius of education. If the spirit of education is mechanical, mistrustful of its own value, and Phihstine in its handling of the issues of hfe, then a very poor day's work will be done for the manly ideal, and the victory will easily pass to the base, the anarchic, and the ignoble. But the education which has faith in itself, and in the child's soul, will confidently utilize all the dramatic influences which appeal to the young imagination, while carefully adjusting the balance between the passions of the heart and the energies of the intellect. There is a factor in the methods I am recommending which should provide an adequate defence against senti- mentalism, and that is the use of concrete illustrations which are taken from a variety of historical and biogra- phical sources. The liberal reference to environment, by means of maps, pictures, and other external aids. 76 MORAL INSTRUCTION: should throw the thoughts outwards and healthily divide the flow of feeling between the subjective and the ob- jective channels. The many-sidedness of the world in which the moral life should be portrayed and examined is one of the cardinal characters of a sane instruction. Add a liberal sense of humour, without which neither physical health nor moral health can be complete, and which is nature's joyous antidote for hysteria and fana- ticism. One may very well doubt if any soul can reach the front rank of natural piety or moral idealism if it lacks a sound, sweet humour. Raphael did not disdain to adorn the corners of his purest religious dreams with bonny, smiHng cherubs. In all literature there is not a sincerer expression of the devout spirit than the " Little Flowers of St. Francis of Assisi " ; yet this very chronicle of a holy life is gracefully margined by the pranks and follies of Brother Juniper. The teacher will always have a reserve of genial wit, ready for saUies at moments when the children's attention is not needed for serious appeals ; and it may be affirmed, in two words, that the class-room which permits an innocent jest is proof against the morbid perils of emotionalism. Thinking. — " All great thoughts," said Vauvenargues, " come from the heart." That is to say, the intellect is most luminous and keen when inspired by some funda- mental good impulse, such as generosity, sincerity, devotion. A reflection of this kind moves parallel with the maxim of Socrates that " Virtue is knowledge". If virtue is not knowledge, it at any rate demands know- ledge, and it provokes the intellect to its most vital and buoyant activities. Survey the roll of the deepest thinkers in the annals of human evolution, and you will discover ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 77 that they exercised their powers not least in the study of ethical issues. There is something in the very nature of conduct, and the conscience which provides its basis, which is pecu- liarly provocative of active thought. Conduct is the most interesting thing in hfe. The highest art (that is to say, the noblest forms of poetry) derives its glory from the materials furnished by conduct. The pages of Homer, Sophocles, Dante, Shakespeare and Corneille bear wit- ness. This principle is illustrated in the child. No doubt the young mind is acutely alive to the working qualities of a kite, an engine, or a toy-gun. It is not less alive to the ethics of the playground, of parlour games, of sharing at the feast, of rewards and punishments. Only a comparatively few children are thrilled by the intel- lectual pleasures of music, or natural observation and dis- covery. Every normal child feels the thrill evoked by some act of kindness or the sting caused by some act of injustice or thoughtlessness. Thrills and stings such as these imply an attention vigorously awake to moral questions ; and this vigorous attention is the very con- dition upon which intellectual efficiency depends. Hence it follows that the study of moral issues reacts with marked benefit upon the child's mental capacity. Let me take an example, almost at random, from my note-book of illustrations. Under the general topic of Justice in Passing Judgment on Other People, I find the question of the behaviour of Lascar seamen. Some discussion on the subject took place in the journals of the summer of 1912. Suppose, then, the teacher discovers that the children in his class have picked up the belief that Lascar seamen 78 MORAL INBTKUCTION : on British vessels are liable to panic and feebleness in face of danger. He proposes to converse on this topic. In the first place, he collects the children's views, and they repeat to him the stories they have heard at home or elsewhere. He listens with very little comment. Then he proceeds to ask who and what the Lascars are. As the children know nothing except that Lascars are dark-complexioned Indians who serve as members of the crews of steamers between England and the East, he will give some information. Most of the Lascars come from the Malabar Coast (the map will be here referred to), and belong to a race and caste which furnish many recruits for the Indian army and police ; and, in these services, under white officers, they have earned an excellent character for courage and loyalty. It is the sons and brothers of these soldiers and police- men who are accused of acting in a craven manner at sea. This simple statement involves comparisons that both kindle the interest of the children, and set their specu- lation going. Furthermore, a gentleman of experience ^ avers that he has found the Lascar alert and reliable : — I have gone on a ship's forecastle head with him to secure a broken hatchway while the ship was driving her bows under and shipping heavy seas over us. This, be it noted, in the Indian Ocean, where there was no bitter cold to benumb him, and make physical inability look like cowardice. I have seen him jump from well up in the rigging into a shark-infested sea to rescue a drowning child. I have known him stand up manfully to a serious fire and do his best. These are aspects of the case entirely within the children's comprehension. Add the following : — ' " D. W. B." writing to the '' Manchester Guardian ". ITS THEOKY AND PEACTICE 79 On the other hand, I have found him cowering in the stokehold, up north, when ice was setting on the decks and the rigours of a winter passage had sapped his manhood. The due consideration of the successive pictures pre- sented in this way to the imagination, and of the motives and ideals involved in the incidents, calls out as real and helpful energies of thought as could be required by any problem in the physical sciences, so far as they are adapted to the mind of the child. Shakespeare pro- pounds the same question (of the relativity of courage) when he confronts Macbeth with the ghost of Banquo : — What man dare, I dare ; Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, The armed rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger ; Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves Shall never tremble ; or be alive again. And dare me to the desert with thy sword : If trembling I inhabit then, protest me The baby of a girl. He would be a very eccentric psychologist who as- serted that an audience that followed the Shakespearean thought through the varied scenes of a tragedy (or a comedy either for that matter) gained nothing in deftness of observation or subtlety of judgment. Now I maintain that the children who accompany a teacher in the quest after moral principles in the mode suggested by the instruction advocated in this volume are practising a healthy intellectual gymnastic. But such a gymnastic does not, and should not, signify painful and hesitating effort. At the close of one of my public lessons,* a critic accused me of not having in- ^ On self-control ; reproduced in Part II. 80 MOKAL INSTEUCTION: duced the children to reason. I venture to suggest that he was misled by the ease with which the children and the teacher proceeded through anecdotes and examples. Physical exercise may, and should, as a rule, be con- ducted without strain and distress ; and so should the intellectual exercise of young people. Gaiety of at- mosphere may be perfectly consistent with profitable thought. The gaiety which we call wit is itself the essence of intellectual vivacity. I should very gravely suspect the value of a moral instruction which produced the 'knitted brow and baffled vision. Music should go with our gymnastic. Ethical training, then, is not to be regarded as a kind of relaxation from the severer discipline of nature-study, geography, history, arithmetic, and the like. Merely viewed from the intellectual side, it has a singular value in quickening the imagination, and engaging the reason- ing powers in the work of observation, comparison, induction, and judgment. " Doing." — One occasionally meets a perfervid edu- cationist who anxiously inquires, " What ought the children to do after a course of moral instruction ? " The implication is that the whole effort falls short unless some immediate and active execution follows. Talking must lead to " doing ". On the face of it, such a proposition seems incontro- vertible. Even to demur to it seems to argue on the side of treating moral instruction as a kind of luxury of the sentiments which shrinks from the hard test of action. It seems to prefer " softness " to the virile "scouting," which is one of the popular forms of self- afi&rmation and social usefulness. ITS THEOKY AND PRACTICE 81 It is, therefore, pertinent to ask what is meant by "doing," or "deed". A deed may be defined as a self-expression more or less satisfactory to the self, and more or less effective as an influence passing from the doer to other personalities. The usual conception of a deed is of some obvious and definite movement. In the teaching of children, especi- ally, one is apt to convey the idea that "good deeds" are dramatic achievements which offer spectacles easily interpreted by the observer, e.g. a rescue, an act of charity, the defiance of a bully or tyrant, etc. But this implies both a crude psychology on the part of the teacher, and a serious misapprehension on the part of the child. A deed may be a look, stamping itself for ever on the memory by its tenderness, scorn, or menace. It may be one word, penetrating the inner self of the hearer, and leaving there a record of love or terror that burns in ineffaceable letters. It may be an attitude that reveals a whole world of indifference, hate, or enthusiasm. It may be a sudden unfolding of a quality of character that has hitherto lain hidden, and is now called forth by some unexpected turn of circumstances. And is it not true that the observant teacher may see the child's soul respond to a sympathetic instruction by a look, a broken word, an attitude, or in a slowly-develop- ing phase of the interior life ? And are we teaching aright when we convey the impression that these things do not count in the " Pilgrim's Progress," and that only actions in the coarsest sense of physical achievement are worthy of recognition ? I do not deny that the teacher who encourages the children to form associations for works of mercy, such 6 82 MOKAL INSTEUCTION: as the establishment of a hospital cot, or the relief of some neighbouring distress, or kindness to animals, and the like ; or who fomids school clubs for the fostering of civic spirit and habits of self-government, is giving useful realizations to the idea of service of the Larger Life. But to let the child believe that such activities are quite adequate, and indeed the chief proofs of the sincerity of moral feeling and judgment is to restrict morality to a dangerously narrow interpretation, and to check the fountain of enthusiasm. For the springs of being flow, some in one direction and some in another ; some to scenes of valour and applause, and some to quiet retreats and cloistered shades where life expresses itself in whispers, in meditations, and in significant silences. If you insist that your instruction shall be immediately translated into " doing," are you not con- cealing from your scholars the true nature of spiritual influence? That influence may at once fructify into an achievement, but it may germinate for years before rising to the light in harvest and glory. The Will. — The foregoing discussion of the value of Doing has already invaded the subject of the Will, which is now ripe for an examination. Perhaps a somewhat exaggerated importance is given occasionally to this topic by artificially detaching it from the rest of the activities (Thought, Feeling, Instinct) of human nature. I have repeatedly affirmed my conception that the will, strictly speaking, is the operation of the three character-qualities — courage, discretion, and determina- tion ; and as this executive action has no significance, or indeed existence, apart from feeling and thought, I will summarily consider the general scheme of psychology ITS THEOKY AND PRACTICE 83 and treat the will as its practical climax. I regard with the utmost suspicion the amateur fashion of talking about children's will-power as if that in itself constituted the central feature of moral education. The training of the entire soul is the object of moral education. Just as the mountain embraces summit, slope, base, interior, and surface, though the highest peak strikes the observer most obviously, so the soul is a construction of feeling, ideas, and execution, though the dramatic action of the will is that which chiefly represents the person- ality. The springs of the soul are the instincts, or affective tendencies. In the first resort they are egoistic, and society and education, while not diminishing the per- sonal energy which they possess, discipline these instincts to the service of the higher life. Very super- ficial debates are often conducted on the supposed radical opposition of egoism and altruism. The simple truth is that civilization is merely the harnessing of egoistic instincts to the purposes of the common weal ; and the good man retains the use and enjoyment of his individ- uality. Indeed, his goodness is so much the feebler if he allows his individuahty to be whittled away. The instincts that compose individuality are Self-preservation ; Sex (including the Maternal Instinct) ; the Analytic Or Destructive Instinct ; the Industrial or Constructive ; the Desire to Rule ; and the Desire for Praise. Let us set out, in correspondence with these seven instincts, a list of seven phases of the personal life, and we shall recognize that, if touched by morality, that is, loyalty to the larger life, they are manifestly aids to a vigorous altruism — Hygiene; Marriage; Motherhood; War 6 * 84 MOEAL INSTEUCTION: with evils ; Industry ; Organizing zeal ; Bespect for Social Opinion. Under social influence, human nature subordinates these prime affections to the claims of friendship ; of reverence for superior character ; and of the universe of life at large. The instincts, kindled into powerful emotions, await the touch of circumstance and of education to play their part, for weal or woe. They will follow the channels created by the ideas and the imagination. They are amenable to law and order, intellectual and moral. They are subject to the organic memory of nerve and spirit which we call habit (and heredity is a form of habit) . They are capable of passionate life-impulses — Bergson's Elan vital — which may rise to the glory of a valiant, sane, and resolute goodwill. They can apprehend the ideal, and perhaps follow it to the threshold of death. Moral education is the effort to secure the steady direc- tion of these impulses. By instruction and by training, by doctrine and by practical education, therefore, and by working on the basis of the psychology just outlined, we shall seek in a variety of ways to evoke and influence the child's will. It is of the first importance to let him feel that his individuality is to be fostered and not repressed ; that we wish to discover his gifts and capacities, and give him scope for exercising them ; and we need not hesitate (even though we increase our difficulties as parents or teachers) to tell him of wilful children — Helen Keller, for example — whose troublesome passions became transfigured into useful activities. The education of the future will mainly concern itself, not with what the nineteenth century called discipline, but with discover- ITS THEOEY AND PKACTICE 85 ing what the child can be and do, and inviting him to be and do that. It is not the least of our tasks to un- fold the romance of existence to the child's imagination, sometimes by the portrayal of a heroic Achilles or Garibaldi or Madame Roland, and more often by the portrayal of the risks, adventures, and joyful victories of everyday household life and civic industry. Show life ; constantly enlarge the landscape of life ; make life magnetic in its crowded interests ; and you will, in effect, say to the child what the genius said to Addison's dreamer in the valley of Bagdad, "Are not these things, Mirza, worth contending for? " The child is an intellectual being, and to his intellect we will appeal. He loves to construct ; we will build up ideas of justice, devotion, and sympath5^ He loves affirmation rather than negation ; we will prove that the moral life is a per- petual Yea of experiment, skill, exploration, and dogged- ness. He loves to ask and understand ; we will have daily news for him, and narrate to him constantly fresh tidings of the battle of good with evil. He loves to master the principle of a toy ; we will help him master the principles of conduct, so that, for example, he may perceive how the self-sacrifice of a dog is essentially one with the self-sacrifice of a martyr. He loves simplicity and directness, as one may see in his drawings and in his recital of stories or events; we will present the issues dramatically so as to make claim straightway to his sense of justice and his unsophisticated sympathies. The child " wants to be a man," in other words, he wants to tread an ever-widening arena of experience ; we will teach him that this arena is the universe itself, and his companions in the action are saints and captains, 86 MORAL INSTRUCTION: sisters of mercy, and noble "mothers in Israel". In his sports he has learned the value of a target and a goal ; we will impart to him the open secret that life with a purpose is worth living ; and the purpose shall be manly service. Every normal child has his passion for achievement, and the so-called "bad boy" is often a complete arsenal of misdirected idealisms ; we will let him see our own enthusiasm, and beckon him to the strenuous quest. If, at any moment, he betrays a dis- position to cunning, to trickery, to circumvention, we will assure him that an honourable career requires alertness, wit, ingenious adaptation of means to ends ; for example, we may cite the extraordinary manipula- tions of the plant- world by which Luther Burbank pro- duced new varieties of fruit, or the marvellous clever- ness of the scientists who diminished the ravages of yellow fever in the tropics. If he is persistent, we will not stay to call him obstinate ; we will congratulate him on his possession of a quality which is proof of an in- ward stability ; for persistence is the remembrance of a past by a present which is proud of itself, which is con- fident of itself, and which desires to continue its self- affirmation ; and if, perchance, it is at first the persevering experimentation of a young Edison who sets a luggage- van on fire with his chemicals, and is pitched out by an indignant guard, it is capable of more admirable embodi- ment in the making of electric phonographs, electric lights, and electric cars, and the service of civilization. It is possible to take a further step in the case of unusually intelligent children, and to grapple with the peril of what may be called the delicate will. Dr. T. B. Hyslop has pointed out that the higher the nervous ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 87 organization and the finer the intellectual or emotional temperament, the less is the tolerance of alcohol. The history of genius offers a more than adequate testimony to this fact of physiology and psychology. Instead, therefore, of merely warning the young and brilliant nature of the dangers of intemperance, we may rather congratulate him on the possession of talent. But, we may add, this noble instrument, by reason of its very nobility, demands more than ordinary protection from influences that are gross and disturbing. It should, therefore, be a matter of pride to preserve this gift from impurity, so that it may render more abundant service. The ^Esthetic Aspect. — Several times in the course of this study reference has been made to the Platonic trinity of the True, the Beautiful, and the Good. The term Beautiful should be no merely rhetorical word, but should have a very living connotation for the moral instructor. He must impart a touch of beauty to his teaching. Matthew Arnold, in his essay on Keats, observes : — For to see things in their beauty is to see things in their truth, and Keats knows it. " What the imagination seizes as beauty must be truth," he says in prose ; and in immortal verse he has said the same thing : — Beauty is truth, truth beauty ; that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know. No, it is not all ; but it is true, deeply true, and we have deep need to know it. The truth with which the teacher has to do is the truth that personal and social health and sanity depend in the long run upon the performance of personal and social service, We have already agreed that this doc- 88 MOEAL INSTEUCTION : trine must be clothed,, for children, in dramatic forms. These forms must embody, at certain moments, the ele- ment of aesthetic. I say " at certain moments," because it would be impracticable to present moral teaching in the perpetual guise of charm ; such an exaggeration would conceal those rough and lamentable facts of ex- perience which, indeed, it is the mission of beauty to soften, but which must be exposed (so far as child-capa- city permits) in their dark actuality. In previous pages it has been urged that the unfolding of the good life should be rendered more interesting than the descrip- tion of vice. Esthetic should be deliberately used for this high purpose by the ethical teacher, just sas the Church has availed itself of the aid of all the arts of poetry, music, painting, sculpture, and architecture. It would be irrelevant here to discuss the modes in which school architecture, music, etc., might be made auxil- iaries to moral teaching. My immediate topic is the quite simple one of the importance of introducing the element of beauty, by means of graphic portrayal of .scenery and other adjuncts of story-illustrations. For example, one might baldly say that, in the case of hesi- tation between retaining treasure for pious objects and devoting it to the succour of the perishing, the claims of the perishing should take precedence. But this is mere maxim, and is therefore excluded from our method. One might find a story of a donor, whose mind swayed between spending £10,000 on a bishop's crozier and en- dowing an orphanage. But with the help of the poet Whittier one may convey the antithesis with more pic- turesqueness and more force. His poem of " The Gift of Tritemius " may be thus abridged in prose : — ITS THEOKY AND PRACTICE 89 Abbot Tritemius of Herbipolis knelt at the altar. He paused when he heard a doleful voice without. Looking from the church casement he saw a grey-haired woman lifting hands for alms : '' For the dear love of Him who gave His life for ours, save my child from bondage, my brave first-born, chained wilh slaves in the Moors' galley in the harbour of Tunis ! " "I can but give you my prayers," said the abbot. " Do not mock me," she cried. " I ask for gold ; words will not ransom him." The abbot said, " We here are poor ", "Give me," she prayed, *' the silver candlesticks on either side of the great crucifix." He agreed, and, with hands that trembled at his own daring, gave the candlesticks to the distressed mother. She hastened down the avenue of lindens. [The legend- ary addition that golden candlesticks appeared on the altar may or may not be narrated.] One need not stay to indicate how many details here afford opportunities for lively and attractive description. This instance may be regarded as typical of a large mass of material in legend, and the romance of history, bio- graphy, and travel, which the teacher may diligently search out and utilize ; and it would be superfluous to plead for the admission of poetry. A lesson on social reform in the nineteenth century may be rendered un- forgettable by Blake's " Little Chimney Sweeper," and the subject of chivalry may be associated with Thomas Moore's " Rich and Rare were the Gems She Wore ". As has been already hinted, I do not intend to suggest that the whole structure of the lessons should be per- meated with aesthetic, until it becomes unworldly and ethereal. But the child-soul, like the adult-soul, hungers for the beautiful, and aesthetic fact is as insistent and real as commercial or scientific fact. In connexion with the vital subject of conduct, art should fulfil its noblest function. There is in art always something of the mystical ; in other words, always something of the un- 90 MOEAL INSTRUCTION : explored, something of premonition and of forecast. And since morality is itself progressive, and since its present phases are premonitions and forecasts of a higher civilization, it is not merely charming, it is essential that the aid of the beautiful should be enlisted for the discipline of the young citizen's soul. Class Methods and Lesson Construction. — In the present section I propose to deal with a miscellany of points connected with the delivery of a moral instruction lesson to a class. It is assumed that the class will, as a rule, consist of both girls and boys. The co-operation of the sexes in such classes (i.e. up to the age of 14) is open to no objection ; and I say this after many years' experience. Even in the later stage of adolescence the sexes may often be profitably taught together on ethical and civic subjects ; but there are, of course, certain topics (sex- physiology and responsibilities, and vocational duties) which call for separation. I have not infrequently found a disposition among teachers and others to regard moral instruction too exclusively from either the girls' or the boys' point of view. One person, obsessed with the boys' claims, will demand perpetual stress upon what may be termed theMilitary and the Self-made Man Basis ; and an- other will, in the supposed interests of the girls, demand perpetual appeals to the sympathies. It seems to me of great importance to ignore these artificial distinctions and treat the conscience of both sexes in precisely the same method. This does not at all imply obliteration of sex-distinction in moral education at large, nor does it imply an inartistic forgetfulness of fundamental sex- characteristics. But these distinctions and character- ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 91 istics may be left to evolve freely and spontaneously, and they will do so with none the less freedom and spontaneity under the influence of a moral standard constructed in the class, in which both sexes are appealed to in the name of a common civic ideal. The Socratic method, in the exact historic sense of the phrase, is not suited to class instruction. In the exact historic sense it means challenging questions asked with a view to elicit definitions of ethical terms (justice, truth, patriotism, reward, and the Hke), and a rigid cross-examination on the value of such definitions and the content of ethical judgments. Such a process can- not be applied to young children. Except in the most occasional way, young children should never be asked to explain what is meant by Obedience, Temperance, Duty, etc., and it is a most reprehensible practice to begin a moral lesson with a request for such definitions. On the other hand, the habit of questioning on the dramatic elements of the subject should be constantly maintained. By the " dramatic elements" I mean the elements relating to the scenery of the stories, and the manners, customs, qualities and motives of the personages who appear in the course of the illustrations. Such questions keep the children's attention on the alert without fatigue, whereas the true Socratic inquisition is, in the highest degree, laborious and baffling to the young brain under the age of puberty. The unintelligent notion that edu- cation is solely or mainly a "drawing-out" of hidden stores of knowledge and insight is responsible for a great deal of needless suffering to childhood. The utmost respect should be paid to the children's responses. Their answers should be accepted in good 92 MOEAL INSTKUCTION : humour and good faith. Nothing could be more fatal to the success of moral instruction than a disposition on the part of the teacher to snap at incorrect and incom- plete expressions, ifor in so doing he would convey the false notion that the moral life can be treated as a de- partment of exact science like mathematics, and that only a formal statement had any value. If the teacher is in earnest, the children will very rarely reply flip- pantly or foolishly. It is a perfectly sound principle to go upon in teaching young people, that, with few excep- tions, they will, if courteously approached, respond with good sense and sincerity. I am referring especially to their demeanour under a well-arranged course of moral instruction, the natural interest of which should tend to put teacher and class on the best possible terms of mutual confidence. The blackboard will, of course, be regularly used for maps and sketches, which may be of the simplest char- acter. The employment of the blackboard is of very great service in counteracting any tendency to undue inwardness and self-consciousness when moral themes are under discussion. I have been amused and instruc- ted by the marked readiness of children to construct complete pictures from the most broken hints. They delight in detecting the map which you indicate by the baldest possible outline, and are perfectly content with one or two symbolic marks, if you say they represent a man, an animal, a temple, or a landscape. Mr. H. J. Mackinder, discussing another branch of education — the teaching of geography — has remarked : — There are now many methods of depicting scenes to the eye, among them, of course, the ubiquitous cinematograph. At present. ITS THEOKY AND PEACTICE 93 at any rate, for the purposes of school teaching, unless under ex- ceptional circumstances, the cinematograph appears too cumbrous and too expensive ; but apart from these practical difficulties, I venture to plead for the simplicity of the lantern slide. Our object in Visual Instruction is not to render thought unnecessary, but rather to call forth the effort of imagination. Personally I disbelieve in complex apparatus for teaching, wherever it can be avoided. The young child loves the battered doll, which amply serves to focus the imagination. Similarly I believe that the good teacher can make the blackboard and the lantern slide speak to better educative purpose than he could the cinematograph. The picture palaces of the present moment debauch the imagination by relieving the spectator of all effort. The picture painted by the artist is more stimulating than the photograph for the very reason that it suggests rather than reproduces. Visual Instruction, it must be remembered, aims at increasing the mental powers in a particular direction, and for this purpose we must not render unnecessary effort of the mind. It may be observed in passing that the use of either the cinema or the lantern slide for moral instruction of the systematic kind propounded in this book, can only be effective in certain restricted cases. No mechanical apparatus can take the place of the sympathetic, personal reaction between the teacher and the taught, realized in conversation, question and answer, voice, gesture and manner. What has just been said as to leaving scope for the children's imagination should not, however, lead to care- lessness in the details of illustrations. Moral instruc- tion should draw its materials from all countries and all ages of the world, and this width of treatment necess- arily involves an immense variety of narration. It should be the teacher's endeavour to reproduce geographical and historical particulars with as much conscientious- ness and accuracy as possible. If he tells an Indian 94 MOEAL INSTKUCTION: story, he will not neglect to consult an Indian gazetteer, or to ascertain the local colour and costume. If .he happens to mention the flag of Japan he will correctly give its design. If he is about to speak of the X-rays, he will not omit to copy into his notes a sufficiently clear diagram of the X-ray apparatus. In themselves, these things are neutral to moral issues ; but attention to them will convey to the children the impression that moral instruction stands in very living and intimate re- lation with the world of fact and experience. Each lesson should have a single, clear aim, as, for instance, to recommend courage in overcoming difficul- ties in personal improvement, or courage in the service of the commonwealth, or kindness to subordinates, or international amity, etc. The theme need not be announced. My own practice has usually been to plunge without preface into the midst of an interesting story, or to open with an arresting question, such as, " Would you like a friend who always wore a mask of crape on his face?" (This, by way of introduction to a talk on Frankness.) The illustrations should be so graded as to reserve the moral climax to the last, for the sense of construction and ascent is both intellectually pleasing to the child-mind (as to the adult) and morally helpful. It is an unfolding of effort, of continuous reflection, of judgment based on widening views. This sense of con- struction, as has been observed more than once pre- viously, is missing from the so-called Incidental Method. So much has been said against sermonizing and moralizing in the invidious meaning of these terms, that it is unnecessary to beg teachers not to send chil- dren away from the class, staggering under packages of ITS THEOKY AND PEACTICE 95 solemn advice. No doubt, in a semi-casual manner, good advice will be dropped during the progress of the lesson, and if, towards the close, the teacher feels a logical need for a definite and summary indication of his aim, I may offer a plan which will both meet this need and preserve the dramatic unities. A lesson, for in- stance, may be prepared with a view to showing, in a series of simple contrasts and stories, the quality of various kinds of power ; the intention being to lead to the conclusion that the Power of Love is the most noble. Let us suppose that the teacher tries to show how this power may be exercised by a corporate and social agency as well as by individual. Here is the programme of the lesson, graduated to such a climax, and yet avoiding a didactic termination : — Lightning striking a tree : power of Nature, creating fear. Story from Herodotus of the African tribe who fought the south wind, and were defeated : the PowerSiof Nature feared and resisted, though unsuccessfully. A glimpse of Hindus throwing gifts of propitiation into the mouth of the Ganges : worship of Nature, half in fear, half in aflfection. The power of Nature, then, appears greater than that of man. Here is the sea : it has power. On the sea is a liner, which also has power. The power of man's mind has conquered nature. Let us study powers : — 1. A performer at the circus lifts enormous weights : Physical Power. 2. You children can answer the questions I put to you. (Here follow such questions as, " What is oxygen? " etc.). You are able to reply. You have Mental Power. 3. A man who is caretaker of a girls' school, removes a lunatic who has broken in and terrified the scholars. He has done his duty. The illustration combines Physical Power and Duty. 4. Mr. Luke Fildes's picture of "The Doctor" portrays the 96 MORAL INSTRUCTION : physician exercising thought as well as doing his duty : Mental Power and Duty. So far the teacher has been developing the conception of various forms of power, and has attached them, in the later examples, to moral ideas of Duty. He has thus sought to make Duty admirable, and also to make power admirable when harnessed to Duty's chariot. The final story may be given in full : — 5. Saint Cecilia played the organ with so fine a touch that the power of the melody drew an angel down, and the angel bore a red and a white rose as gifts. Stronger yet than her music was another power in Cecilia's nature. She journeyed along the banks of the Rhine, and crowds attended her steps. Among the people was a man with a deaf and dumb boy, whom he mshed the saint to heal. Cecilia took the child in her arms . . . Duij and dumb children are taught in the schools of London and other cities to-day, and ivith^ great pains the teachers ^teach them to pronounce words aloud instead of by the old plan of the finger-alphabet. What feeling moves the teachers' hearts ? Pity ? Yes. Kindness ? Yes. Love ? Yes ; the Power of Love. But who chooses the teachers? The citizens. Would it be trxi,e then to say that the Power of Love for these unfortunate children' moves the people's hearts 1 It would be true ; and it is wonderful to see how much is done in the world, by persons and by cities, through the Power of Love. Of all the powers we have considered — Nature, Physical, Mental, Duty, Love — which is the noblest ? That of Love. But Cecilia ! She took the deaf and dumb boy in her arms (so says the old Catholic legend), and in her eyes was a look of love. She kissed the unhappy child, and, looking up into her gentle face, he burst into speech, and praised Cecilia's goodness. That is all. You may confidently leave the children with a subtly-mingled memory-picture in which the figures of the public school teacher and of Saint Cecilia are almost blended. Teachers should in all cases construct their own lessons on their own selected patterns. In place of the short series of stories which is the model I prefer, another ITS THEOEY AND PKACTICE 97 may choose one moderately long narrative ; another may take a poem, and tell the story in prose and verse ; a third may work through a biography ; a fourth may adopt a historical episode, such as the Abolition Move- ment in the United States, the Eise of Japan, or the Peace Movement. The modern tendency in education is to leave ample room for the spontaneity of the child. We must apply the same principle to the teacher, and above all, when we ask him to undertake the supreme task of moral training and instruction. Lessons are Necessarily Incomplete. — When a child works a sum right it is ended once for all. Quite otherwise is the case with lessons on moral conduct, which necessarily raise side-issues and leave many things unsaid. So obviously and pressingly is this the case that the teacher is constantly tempted into digressions, and is constantly regretting that certain questions were left unconcluded. I may cite one or two incidents from my own experience. One Sunday morning I had talked with a group of intelligent children on the topic of Courage, and had illustrated my subject with several examples of people who had, in a public-spirited way, defied bad conventions. A lady had listened attentively, and she afterwards said to me, " Have you not put the idea into those children's heads that it is a meritorious thing to disobey the laws?" I glanced down my lesson-notes, and dis- covered that the examples I had employed were of the following character : — 1. An American spy in the British camp who bravely suffered execution for his secret investigations. (The real point of the story, however, refwred to a quite different question.) 7 98 MOEAL INSTKUCTION: 2. An English village woman who asserted au ancient commons- right against a landlord. 3. An American Quaker who boldly asserted his intention to assist runaway negro-slaves, no matter what the law directed. 4. A Chilian woman who aided the escape of a rebel. (An episode in the War of Independence, which released Chili from the yoke of Spain.) The Chilian anecdote closed our conversation ; and it is evident that the ends of the theme are left, so to speak, somewhat ragged. Indeed, the whole subject of civic law is spread out before us, and the teacher will be busily occupied if he pursues all the branches. On the one hand, he will inculcate the duty of the law-abiding habit. On the other hand, he will have to emphasize the duty of obedience to a higher moral law such as carried Antigone to her doom, and, at the same time, rendered her name gloriously immortal. But one cannot say all this on one Sunday morning ! On another occasion I had related an adventure which Dr. Wilfrid Grenfell tells at length in his booklet "Adrift on an Ice-Pan ". Being left on an ice floe one terribly cold night off the coast of Newfoundland, and apprehending death through the frost, he killed three of his sleigh dogs and clothed himself with their skins. The use I made of the story concerned an altogether different topic from that of the right treatment of animals ; and I told the tragedy as Dr. Grenfell himself delivers it to the reader. Mr. Ernest Bell, the well-known friend of animals and anti-vivisector, happened to form one of the audience at this lesson, and reproached me for presenting such ideas to the children. He allowed, indeed, that I had spoken apologetically of the doctor's action, and had hastened to point out how he had raised a monument in memory ITS THEOKY AND PKACTICE 99 of the three dogs. Nevertheless, Mr. Bell maintained that I should not have used the story at all, for it inci- dentally justified vivisection. In deference to a social reformer whose judgment I held in such respect, I agreed in future to omit the gruesome details. But certain difficulties emerge from such a case. When one selects a narrative from actual biography, it is not always easy to omit features that are more or less vital to the history ; especially when the original narra- tor is a man of the eminent character of Dr. Grenfell. One also perceives that a case presented for one purpose may be viewed in quite a separate aspect by an adult listener, or, of course, by the child. The teacher has taught more than he planned ! Such problems are unavoidable. All the pedagogy in the colleges will not avail to ehminate them. It is life itself that produces them, and only the stupid and narrow- minded teacher will profess to be free of them. If it is not too paradoxical to say so, one may affirm that good moralinstruction is always accompanied by a sense of in- completeness. It points forwards and upwards. Not by one dogmatic word ; not by one cut-and-dried course of " lessons " is moral truth finally implanted. Something re- mains unexplored. The child himself must be an explorer. Nevertheless, the teacher will take careful note of questions that arise during the progress of any given lesson, and that are too significant and too difficult to be met by a passing sentence. Eefusing to be drawn into digressions that confuse his own mind as well as the minds of his scholars, he will resolve, and perhaps he will openly promise the children, that these subjects shall be duly discussed at a future assembly. 100 MOKAL INSTEUCTION: The Teacher, — 'It is understood all through this study that the supreme end of education is such a training in the service of the larger life as involves personal hygiene, self-development, and .character-building. The agents in this process, w^hich extends from infancy to adulthood, are ' The parents, and especially the mother ; the kin- dergarten teachers, w^ho are alv^^ays women ; the primary- school teachers, who are now preponderatingly women ; and the teachers of adolescence. This last stage is extraordinarily incomplete in the whole civilized world, but it is evident that the adolescent population tends towards a gradual absorption into the system of public education up to the age of 21. We must leave posterity to make its own schemes for the adolescent stage. I merely observe, in passing, that unless we wish for a very ill-balanced division of work between the sexes, the extremely powerful influence of women over the years below puberty will need to be followed by a more or less corresponding masculine influence over the stage of adolescence. But whatever our schemes may be, the question always recurs, Does not the value of moral instruction depend, in the last resort, upon the personality of the teacher ? No doubt, in an eminent degree, it does, and this important problem will now be briefly examined. But teachers, like children, are educable ; they can be improved by training and experience ; their innate gifts of personality may be developed to finer and stronger applications, their deficiencies may be partially compen- sated, and perhaps very effectively, by the excellence of the methods which the matured reflection of the general teaching corporation may place at their disposal. The eugenic reformer (may his tribe increase !) may ITS THEOKY AND PEACTICE 101 rightly claim to be heard on the question of the selection of women for motherhood, and men for fatherhood. Our immediate concern, however, is with the actual parent, and particularly the mother. The proletarian mothers — the mothers of the Many — above all demand our consideration. The Greek besiegers of Troy could do nothing decisive without Achilles, and modern civiliza- tion can now do nothing decisive in education without the co-operation of the mothers ; that is, the entire mass of mothers. Immense obstacles, social and economic, hinder the progress of the mother, both in the Western and the Eastern worlds. With these we cannot here cope. We must hopefully assume that politics, in the purest sense of the term, will sooner or later concentrate its energies upon this pathetic figure, and raise her to the place of honour in the system of early education. The mother-teacher's equipment may be thus sketched : — In the first place, sympathy ; but this, happily, is the fundamental quality of her nature, and only needs rational direction. In the second place, faith in human nature ; a faith fostered by common-sense psychology, and necessary for her in order to counteract the tendency to scold and unduly check, and the tendency to distrust the child's capacity for enterprise and adventure. In the third place, training in practical child-rearing ; and this may be prepared for by simple responsibilities allotted to young girls in connexion with kindergartens, and by instruction-classes for young unmarried women. In the fourth place, special assistance in learning the elements of teaching the primary subjects to infants — music, poetry, story-telling, drawing and painting, physical exercises ; and the hygienic training should in- 102 MOEAL INSTEUCTION : elude both simple domestic medicine, and simple sex- physiology ; the latter for use at all stages, but especi- ally at and near the crisis of puberty. In the fifth place, such opportunities of contact with civic life as will enable her to impart the rudiments of social and political morality with intelligence and with a sense of actuality. These conditions are stated on the supposition that the mother will have the chief control over the child, assisted at all points by the father, until about the age of 7 ; and that even after that limit, she will by no means lose a living touch with the training of her own child. Nor can I quit this subject of the mother without affirming my view that, as a rule, the training for motherhood should be imparted by exper- ienced mothers, not by unmarried women, or childless wives ; just as preparatory guidance for fatherhood should be imparted to young men by experienced fathers, and not by bachelors, or childless husbands, however scholarly and philosophic. The kindergarten, or infant schools' teacher might almost be described as the flower of the teaching pro- fession, partly because the conditions of her labour are naturally easier, and partly because, thanks to Froebel and others, the principles of early training have been richly illumined and systematized. But the time ap- proaches when she can no longer be left in a kind of isolated splendour. She must be trained in adequate relation to the stages into which the children will pass when they leave her preliminary care. In other words, all teachers, whether aiming at the kindergarten, the elementary (or American grade) school, or the high school, technical school, or other institutions for ad- ITS THEOEY AND PEACTICE 103 olescence, must undergo the same general discipline in the art of moral education ; with, of course, special applications to their special choice of schools. This, again, implies that such discipline shall be provided in teachers' training colleges. It would be premature to put forward any elaborate syllabus for training colleges ; but I venture, with some diffidence, to mark out a few main hnes of profitable study : — 1. The supremacy of the moral aim should be con- tinuously accented in all departments of learning, not excluding physical science and applied science. 2. The outlines of the progress of philosophy should be taught — Greek philosophy, Catholic philosophy, and Modern philosophy ; and something should be known of Hindu philosophy, particularly in view of the growing complexity of the relations between India and the West. No laborious cramming is to be at all thought of, but just a plain, straightforward conspectus. 3. Psychology on its practical side, with abundant illustrations, biographical, historical, artistic, and civic. 4. Exercise in the selection of material, and in the con- struction and delivery of lessons. With this should be combined exercise in the ethical treatment of geography, history, literature, and other subjects of the general curriculum. When all is said and done, we shall still be confronted by the fact that some teachers are naturally more fitted than others for the specific task of moral instruction. It is, of course, fair to assume that we are all agreed in excluding from the teaching ranks persons who cannot, directly or indirectly, undertake the duties of moral 104 MORAL INSTRUCTION : education in general. I confess it does seem to me a hard saying that a really good educator may be incap- able of talking, logically and effectively, with his pupils on such definite themes as Manliness, Honour, Mercy, Justice, and the rest ; but I will waive the point. The question then arises, Ought we to compel unwilling teachers (otherwise admitted to be efficient) to impart direct moral instruction ? The question really answers itself. No compulsory "moral" teaching would have any moral value ; and ethical lessons (and religious lessons are subject to the same law), given in a half- hearted and slipshod manner may not only fail to do good, they may effect positive harm to young con- sciences. In view of the emergencies that may result from these facts, one is reluctantly forced towards a conclusion which I have heard experienced educators support in the United States as well as in Great Britain, namely, that special teachers, or "supervisors" (as the Americans would term them), should be appointed for conducting the moral and civic instruction. In the kindergarten period no such specialists would be re- quired. In the succeeding stage (ages 7 to 14), one may at least express the pious hope that the necessity for them will decrease to vanishing-point. The adoles- cent stage is more problematic, though the remark ought not to apply to the ordinary high school or British grammar school. It is, however, reasonable to concede that, in commercial and trade schools, the technical instructors should not be expected to add the subject of ethics and civics. Yet young men and women ought assm-edly to have opportunities, in such institutions, for sound and inspiring education in the responsibilities of ITS THEOEY AND PEACTICE 105 citizenship ; and here, no doubt, the specially gifted teacher is called for. When I was formerly a member of the Committee of a Technical and Art School in the provinces, I often brooded, though somewhat desperately, over this problem ; and I little thought that I should find it grappled with in the State of Illinois. In the summer of 1911, during a visit to Chicago, I found my friend. Professor Howard Moore, doing this very thing. At the Crane Technical School he was engaged in im- parting an excellent ethical course to students collected from the electrical engineering and other such classes. The course was designed to spread over four years. What Chicago can do the rest of the world might do. A plea, however, should be entered for the not incon- siderable class of teachers who possess no gifts of ex- position, but whose honesty and purity of character and humane disposition impart a value to imperfect lessons that would fail to pass muster before a committee of scholarly pedagogues. I have known many such, and am prepared to say that their good influence ultimately outweighed the influence of far more brilliant masters and mistresses of the art of teaching. Such natures are invariably modest, and invariably willing to accept counsel and hints from more expert colleagues and guides. I would go a step farther, and also plead that teachers who obviously fall short of accepted ethical standards are not altogether useless in the general scheme. Many a broken spirit, conscious of its serious defects, may have its inspired moments, when things may be said or done that result in permanent and bene- ficent impressions. To suggest that good and effective work can be done by teachers who cannot be correctly 106 MOKAL INSTRUCTION : called high and noble characters may seem a counsel of indolence. Surely, however, it stands to reason and common sense that while the best results are achieved by the best teachers, much valuable work may be done by the plain, average teacher, and even, let us admit, by the teacher whose failings are obvious and whose methods are defective. We may find it advisable to employ the expert "supervisor " ; and we may hope the day will dawn when the school will know none but teachers of noble personality. Meanwhile, let us not exalt this noble or skilful personality into a fetish. Our educational system should indeed be such as to allow free scope for the purest and most original talent and purpose to develop, and such as to permit the most commanding influence to admirable types. They will set the pattern, and uphold the 'standard. But the untalented and the unoriginal, if possessed in a modest degree of honest good-nature and sympathy with the child-mind, may do real and faithful service, and while they lack artistry and even moral distinction, they may leave worthy influences that endure. It must be re- collected that few children remain entirely attached to a single teacher. They pass from one to another, sub- ject to a continuous rise or fall in the spiritual value of the educator. It may not be an unprofitable conception to imagine the general body of teachers as virtually one social institution, exercising what is, in effect, one social function and delivering one social message, which varies with the lapse of time and the remoulding of ideals. The most original teachers are in a measure limited by that universal pressure ; and the least original are in a measure assisted and rendered more efficient by it. ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 107 Education Lifelong:. — Look to the end — Respice finem — in education. But what and where is the end ? Not at the close of the kindergarten ; not at puberty ; not at manhood or womanhood. The active process should terminate only with death itself, from which point onwards the memorial effect, conscious or sub- conscious, of the completed life plays its incessant part in the order and progress of the future. In training the young citizen, therefore, we essay an enterprise which is marked by no finality. We are concentrating our efforts on one triple stage — infancy, childhood, and adolescence — which is followed by the antechamber of the prime, then by the prime, then by the period of ripe and reflective experience, then by that gentle decline of vitahty which Cicero has invested with the pensive glamour of his " De Senectute." We may well pause with a sense of our civic and religious shortcomings when we consider that the nation attempts to mould the char- acter of the child up to the threshold of puberty, and then abandons the sacred task, and thus treats adoles- cence as a negligible epoch, and stamps education as an interest that belongs to childhood alone. What the State will or will not do in the coming ages we need not stay to speculate. It is, however, certain that posterity, fully awakened to reverence for all the phases of the human career, will meet each period with institutions of guidance and sympathy, and will comprehend that each has its problems and its duties, and therefore its educa- tional needs. ^ ^My object in the present section is simply to suggest, in a brief discussion, that we ought not to force upon the ante-puberty period the responsibility of decisions or the pretence of decision 108 MOEAL INSTKUCTION : This broad survey of life as a never-ending discipline, self-development and service, may help to place at a fresh angle the question of the natural age for great moral and religious decisions. Every thoughtful ob- server is familiar with cases of change of belief after the age of 20, or 30, or 40. Some of these changes are no doubt due to a certain instability, arising from subtle mental or physical causes, against which no safeguard can be devised. Not a few are examples of reaction, painful and dislocating perhaps, against views prematurely com- plied with. But over and beyond these instances of change, are we not aware of a vast mass of acquiescent souls whose adherence to doctrines received in childhood is maintained without enthusiasm, intelligence or efficiency? I suggest that the educators of the past have too often erred in their psychology. They have treated the child as plastic material on which abstract principles could be imposed, whereas childhood is only capable of under- standing life in the concrete, and facts rather than large generalizations. A science is a body of principles, classi- upon issues which adolescence and adulthood must endeavour to meet. I allude to education as lifelong, in order to sti-engthen the objection to prematux'ely pressing childhood into insincere confor- mities. It is, however, proper to draw attention to the scheme for the education of human nature sketched by Auguste Corate in 1857, the year of his death. The scheme covered the seven stages of Infancy, Childhood, Adolescence, Young Manhood, Manhood, Maturity (ages 42 to 63) and Retirement. Dr. Felix Adler laid be- fore the Moral Education Congress at The Hague, August, 1912, an important paper in which human life was regarded as a series of ascending terraces — Childhood, Adolescence, Early and Later Middle Life, Old Age (or the Period of Abdication) and Relinquish- ment. ITS THEOEY AND PKACTICE 109 fications, and laws which treat of a specific department of knowledge and experience. Science, in the strict sense of the term, cannot be comprehended by the child below the line of puberty. As with science on the physical plane, so with the characteristic human sciences of sociology and ethics. The principles of these sciences are not appreciable by the child. Indeed, they dawn on the normal consciousness only at the threshold of adult- hood, if even then. And whether religion is identified with the moral life, or conceived of as a realization of the moral and Divine life, the psychological rule must still hold good, and youth should be protected from attempts to force too early an avowal of acceptance and belief. The rule should be respected, not for the poor reason that the soul will approach manhood without the trammels of settled convictions (a condition the very reverse of freedom), but because a true constructive philosophy of life needs a slowly-laid foundation, and a gradually developed insight. No doubt " conversion " stands for an order of genuine facts in the evolution of the heart. I was myself bred in that religious school which attaches the highest importance to conversion, and I had intimate knowledge of conversions and con- verts. And I affirm that, however abrupt the response to a spiritual call may appear, it is yet but a swift embodi- ment of feeling, thoughts, and energies already prepared and already in more or less secret motion towards the climax of resolution. In strong natures, the process is more readily traceable in retrospect; in weak natures, less. In strong natures, the new aspect of the soul is more persistent ; in weak natures it may itself be the easy preliminary to backsliding. Conversion obeys the law 110 MOEAL INSTRUCTION : of apperception ; its sudden progress is the development of a pre-existing order. Since it usually occurs during adolescence, or in natures whose adolescence is virtually prolonged, and partakes of the impulsive quality of adolescence, it seems, to a superficial view, to act out of the line of evolution. The conclusion is due to the erroneous notion that evolution is always very dehberate. All that evolution demands, however, in matter or spirit, is elements that are serviceable and adaptable. Given those, it may bring them to an issue of form and energy in a long-continued discipline (if one may so speak), or it may hasten the work by an explosion and a crisis. Character may be re-shaped by a succession of delicate unfoldings, or by an agonized parturition. In either case, appercep- tion fulfils itself, and the new springs from the old. It may indeed be that revolution (it is evident that sociology and individual character are alike concerned in this discussion) is but the index of a want of foresight and preventive skill. Both in a community, and in the emotional soul of the young woman or man, there are predictable changes which might be anticipated, legis- lated for, and deprived of terror. So it will doubtless be when politics and education understand their functions better, and more loyally and wisely carry out their duties. There will always be quick risings of the life, but not the anarchic agitations which disturb the organism, and temporarily render the march of personal, or national, character uncertain. To ensure such stability and balance it is of the gravest importance that we should refrain from com- mitting the undeveloped mind to hasty confessions and declarations. We may, it is true, expect that serious ITS THEOEY AND PEACTICE 111 decisions of thought made, approximately, at the age of 16, will be confirmed and deepened -by experience in a very large number of cases ; but we should, even at this stage, scrupulously avoid artificial fostering of faith or the hasty manufacture of conviction. But it is a psy- chological folly and injury to seek the fixation of belief and moral profession at a yet earlier age. Immature acceptance of a system of life-philosophy, popular or scientific, not only deadens and maims the young soul. It takes away the noble opportunity, which every per- sonality should be accorded, of declaring, of set purpose and with candid and reasoned enthusiasm, what shall constitute the guiding principle of its future. Neverthe- less, this respect for the personality does not imply that we ought to debar the child (I mean the young person under the age of puberty) from an ample acquaintance with the ideals and the methods of this or that religion, or church, or movement. The living men or the historical types who represent these various modes of thought should be named and alluded to with equal courtesy. The institutions which embody their ideals should be treated as civic elements that demand at least a respectful neutrality. Nor does the restraint here advocated signify any check to moral instruction in the broad, humane, and practical aspects that commend themselves to men and women of all varieties of religious and philosophical faith. To teach the young soul to admire courage displayed for a noble end, or veracity in workmanship or speech, is to enrol it in the membership of our common humanity ; and he would be advancing a singular proposition who affirmed that this enrolment involved immature acceptance of a tenet or a creed. 112 MORAL INSTRUCTION: Symbolism and Ceremonial. — Before proceeding to thb second part of this volume, in which a series of typical lessons will be reproduced, it may be of use to consider the topics of symbolism and ceremonial. Sym- bolism and ceremonial cannot be formally classified as lessons, though, of course, they embody instruction. They belong mainly to that logic of imagery by which the artist conveys ideas, while the teacher and preacher employ the logic of discourse. By common consent, in all educational circles, school methods are now tending in the direction of the open-air, instructive excursions, manual training, and the like. This exodus to more prac- tical fields of study, far from implying contempt for art and literature, will no doubt be accompanied by a develop- ment of aesthetics in connexion with history-teaching, science, and civic preparation. Great moments of history, great achievements, great Hves will be recalled in cere- monial commemorations, and bright symbolisms will represent the relations between humanity and its en- vironment. Enthusiasm and ingenuity will devise an endless variety of such exercises, and I will not presume to lay down a detailed programme. I will content my- self with indications of the sahent methods and the salient topics of school celebrations. Nor is it necessary to arrange the suggestions in precise classes. Obviously the ritual which opens an ordinary day's work will be shorter and simpler than a special celebration of the birthday of an illustrious man or woman, and this again will be less imposing than a festival that symbolizes national hope and pride, or international and inter-racial ideals. ITS THEOEY AND PRACTICE 113 I. Methods and Aids. Poetry should take the first rank in its various forms of ode, lyric, narrative, ballad, and dramatic declamation. It can be recited by a single voice, or by children in the mass. It should be of the best, either selected from the standard national literature, or composed for such pur- poses by writers of repute who will not lower the level of style because their lines are destined for the school. Just as there is no excuse for the employment of doggerel rhymes when such morning hymns as Carlyle's — So here hath beeu dawning Another blue day — are available, so fifth-rate lines must give place to stately verse from Shakespeare, Milton, Tennyson, and other such masters, for daily ritual as well as for more distin- guished occasions. Music is so universally recognized as an aid to sin- cerity and joy in collective observances that it is happily needless to speak of the value of hymns, songs, chants, and glees. The experience of churches has for ages testified to the admirable effect of responses. It was once well and courteously said by a Dissenting minister to an Anglican clergyman that he envied him this passage in the Book of Common Prayer, — Minister. The Lord be with you. People. And with thy spirit. For there, in two sentences, you have the essence of the true method of response between teacher and children ; and this mutual and cheerful reverence should be ex- pressed in antiphonic exercises, as well as in spoken dialogue. A hint may be borrowed from the chorus of 114 MORAL INSTRUCTION: the Greek plays, and, following on recitals of some noble theme by teachers or elder scholars, the general school might repeat their simple and rhythmic commentary, either from memory, or from appropriate service-books. In like manner the children should declaim brief char- acteristic passages from some stirring civic document — a Proclamation, a Declaration of Independence, a famous statesman's speech, etc. Nothing can exceed the simple force and dignity of the passage from Lin- coln's Gettysburg speech which the Americans love to inscribe on the pedestals of the President's statues. Several modes of salutation can be practised. Saluting the flag is now a well-established custom in the United States and elsewhere. I venture to recall how, in a little Sunday assembly of children which I carried on for two years, we used to salute our national flag, and all other flags in turn ; each Sunday providing a fresh flag (in picture form) until we had respectfully greeted the colours of every civilized people on earth. Each occasion was illumined with a sympathetic anecdote or sketch relative to the country thus honoured. Busts and portraits may be saluted, or adorned with tributary wreaths and the like. Tableaux in costume render effective and delightful aid in the representation of typical events and even of social ideals. The mimic processions which children sometimes amuse us with in the home, or even in the street, are a sufficient token of the natural use of pageantry. Massed drill, led by music, may be removed from the limits of a mere gymnastic when the performers wear badges or colours significant of some noble, muni- cipal, national, or humanitarian idea. ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 115 To all these add the drama, which, in however rudi- mentary a shape (and it is an error to suppose juvenile dramas always involve great elaboration or expense) should constitute a regular part of every school curri- culum. But here again, we require the help of the most brilliant literary genius the nation can provide. Too often has the children's theatre — if one may use the phrase — suffered from the incompetent authors of libretto/ II. Topics. Certain fundamental relationships afford themes of the purest and most vital interest, such as the family, friend- ship, and civic co-operation. St. Francis of Assisi long ago learned how to invest the Holy Family with popular aesthetic; the story of Damon and Pythias intimates how friendship may be idealized ; and Arbor Day, as observed in the co-operative planting of saplings in America, and in some of our garden suburbs at home, is a type of scores of possible illustrations of civic com- radeship. And, if only in a passing word, one is moved to suggest that the happy conscription of the future (Ruskin dreamed of it) would enrol the youth of both sexes in an apprenticeship to municipal service, rural labours and sports, road-mending or adorning, and a hundred and one practical consecrations of energy to the ^ For a series of nine years I rehearsed a group of thirty or forty children in an annual operetta, painting the scenery, and conducting the pei-formance. Ordinary children as they were, they exhibited a surprising enthusiasm in action and song; and it may safely be assumed that any group of children will develop some adequate dramatic aptitude. But our labours were not vigorously supported by the literary quality of the libretto, the composers of which ap- peared to think that any inferior stuflf was good enough for children, 8* 116 MORAL INSTRUCTION : common weal. Such a conception, of course, applies more especially, but not entirely, to adolescent years. Nor is there any reason why childhood should not glorify childhood, just as adults glorify adulthood, and poetry and the novel hold up the mirror to adolescent love. We ought therefore to have a Children's Day, not for noisy excursions and general babel, but for a festival in which childhood is reverently as well as merrily saluted, and at which the genius of childhood is exem- plified in the heroic types of religious and social history. The world teems with this poetry, if only we would cull its treasures. How eagerly, too, the children would join in a festival of homage to the Toymakers, and with what a chorus of delight would they thank the honest Swiss, Dutch, German or French artisans who make the dolls, dolls' houses, engines, puppet-shows, flags, and drums, etc., that enchant the little souls of all nations. At such a time the young people will be pleased to hear a de- scription of the Carp Day of the Land of the Rising Sun, when Japanese children float their paper or silken carp over the house-tops and jubilantly celebrate the civic value of energetic character. The school itself will furnish a kindred topic, with its traditions (even a school not twenty years old has its pleasant traditions), its local ideals, its sorrows and joys. And lest the school, — as it is only too apt to do — should become a little world of self-complacency, there should be re-unions of the schools of a district from time to time, either in mass meeting, or by friendly delegations, with songs and recitations by way of welcome.^ 1 When popular imagination becomes richer, civic processions will make larger use of the child-element in other ways than by collect- ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 117 Each country — England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales — ■ should have its festive day, its garlands and its songs and pageants. The Empire has now taken possession of 24th May, as a day for surveying the great British and Indian common w^ealth, and for caUing to mind the high honour of its citizenship, and the profound responsibili- ties of its service.^ From such '"a celebration we pass naturally, and even logically, to the idea of International Peace, the splendid possibilities of Arbitration, the value of the Hague Tribunal, the gradual establishment of amity among all races. There is no commonwealth on earth so well prepared, by its history and its spirit, to promote such an ideal as the British Empire, provided only that its children recognize that, after the wars and annexations of the past, a nobler era of pacific evolution is now at the dawn. Peace Day is now held internationally on 18th May, and, for British people, should lead up harmoniously to Empire Day. It would seem unnecessary to describe at length how noble a scope this celebration provides for the salutation of the flags of all nations, tableaux, and pageants, illustrating foreign costumes and ideals, songs of international comradeship, etc.- I will content ing the scholars to sing from a grand stand. Schools and colleges, with badge and banner, should figure in processions on at least equal terms with fire-brigades and local police and soldiery. So should other social elements, which one need not pause to enumerate here. ^In a booklet on "Our Empire," published in the winter of 1912-13, I have tried to provide a picturesque conception of the Empire, and to express the moral appeal which it makes to the citi- zens of all its territories and Dominions. ^ The presence of a foreign child in the school should be made the occasion of a genial episode of greeting and perhaps gift. 118 MOKAL INSTRUCTION: myself with quoting a portion of the Responses of the St. Louis (U.S.A.) Ethical Sunday Assembly for Chil- dren on the Peace Festival : — Leader. — How lovely are the "messengers that preach us the gospel of peace. Response. — To all the nations is gone forth the sound of their words : throughout all lands their glad tidings. Leader. — Blessed are the peacemakers. Response. — On earth be peace : goodwill toward men . . . Leader. — The heroism of peace is the heroism of service and rescue. Besponsc. — And peace hath her victories no less renowned than those of war. In the present connexion it may not be out of place to suggest that, in the United Kingdom, some friendly notice should be paid to the celebration of 4th July, just as, in the United States, a courteous reference to Empire Day might be made on 24th May. Nature, science, and art should have their frequent recognitions. 1. Nature. Few better illustrations of the festive manner and spirit could be cited than Dr. Rendel Harris's " Three AVoodbrooke Liturgies"^ for spring, summer, and autumn. A few extracts may be given, not, of course, as being literally appropriate for school use, but as examples for adaptation. In the spring celebration the An address by a German, French, or Japanese visitor would be eagerly listened to, and might make an ineffaceable impression. ^The booklet of thirty-two pages may be obtained from the secretary, Woodbrooke Settlement, Selly Oak, Birmingham. The liturgies are intended for adults. ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 119 voices are divided between The Scholars and The Sky- larks : — All. — Hail to thee, blithe spirit ! Bird thou never wert, That from heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse stx'ains of unpremeditated art. Hail to thee blithe spirit ! . . . The Scholars. — Shakespeare tells us that the lark at heaven's gate sings. The Skylarks. — And^the saints tell us that the blessed and happy soul is in the forecourts of paradise . . . The Skylarks. — Skylarkship is better than scholarship. The Scholars. — But they may dwell sweetly in the same house. The summer ritual is a co-operation of the voices of two groups, one bearing rosebuds and the other open roses. George Herbert's exquisite verse introduces us with dehghtful transition to an allusion to the local genius : — The Rosebuds. — Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in the grave, And thou must die. The Open Roses. — Only a sweet and virtuous soul Like seasoned timber never gives, But tho' the whole world turns to coal, Then chiefly lives. The Rosebuds. — Woodbrooke is an opening rose : What it shall be no man knows. In the autumn service, four groups represent oaks, ashes, beeches, and willows, and the falling leaf is the leadingjheme. 120 MOEAL INSTKUCTION: 2. Science and Art. The most excellent pattern I am acquainted with for pageants of Knowledge and Beauty is Professor Patrick Geddes's "Masque of Learning," performed at the semi-jubilee of University Hall, Edinburgh, in 1912.^ It is devised for adolescents and adults, but contains a treasury of hints for the teacher of younger children. The " Masque " consists of a series of pageants without dialogue, except an introductory conversation between a Professor and a Boy ; the boy's chief contribution to the scene being a highly symbolic eating of an apple, and the throwing of a ball. If this should seem fan- tastic, read the explanation in Geddes's own words : — Boy, passing with schoolbag, meets Professor, who looks over his books and explains them as a summary of history, each represent- ing its period — from the modern arithmetic-book back through general knowledge to the encycloptedia, through Renascence and Mediaeval studies, to the Classic, and the Patriarchal past, and even beyond. For the story-book has its origin in folk-lore ; the boy's apple is the raw food, land his ball the ready missile of Primeval Man. He is thus heir of all the ages more fully than he knows. ^ The opening pageant is such an admirable type of all that follows (Egyptian, Hebrew, Homeric, Eoman, Celtic, Mediaeval, Present, and Future) that I venture to transcribe its programme : — iSee the "Masque of Learning and its Many Meanings," , de- vised and interpreted by Patrick Geddes. To be had of the Secretary, Outlook Tower, Edinburgh. "The reader will recognize the harmony between such a presen- tation and the Correlation scheme detailed in a previous chapter of the present volume. ITS THEOEY AND PKACTICE 121 Life tree in background. 1. Water nyinph dancing, followed by spirits of Nature, and by Pan. The Dance of Nature and Life. Child Humanity. 2. Mother follows seeking child. 3. Hunter with Game and Hound. Young woman stanches hunter's wound with herbs : then gives him apple. 4. Older woman, with rude sheaf and distaflf. The women croon a song. Man twangs his bow. Primitive occupations of sexes : Labour and Rhythm. 5. Enter the Bringer of Fire, with ember in hollow stalk. Women make the hearth. The family circle forms. 6. Hunter counts upon his fingers : signs it to others. It should be noted that such activities, far from need- ing academic stimulation by college-trained teachers, are already the sport of the street and meadow. Chil- dren are every day playing their spontaneous pageants while their teachers are laboriously discussing child- psychology, and constructing syllabuses. A whole world of dramatic energy awaits our exploitation. The last topic that calls for observation is the most fertile of all, namely the memorial day of the birth or death of an illustrious woman or man. On such occasions a simple talk on the biography of the hero or heroine of the day should be accompanied by the dis- play, where possible, of a picture or bust, and, in the case of writers, by the reading of their verses or passages of their prose. In such remembrances, the names of Hans Christian Andersen, the brothers Grimm, " Lewis Carroll," Hauff, Louisa Alcott, Daniel Defoe, Friedrich Froebel, and the like, should be included. For surely it is somewhat of an irony that while we invite young people to pay tribute to the sublime figures of history — an Alexander, an Alfred, a Shakespeare, a Columbus, 122 MOKAL INSTRUCTION: a Goethe, a William the Silent, a Newton, a Lincoln — we should forget to give honour to the ingenious artists who have done so much to amuse and elevate the soul of the child. The Catholic Church has set a very noble educational )pattern in its calendar of saints' days. It may not be impossible now, and it certainly will be possible in the future, to honour the saints of all nations in the schools of civihzation. The records of the Hindu, Moslem, Buddhist, and Confucian sainthood yield many pic- turesque and touching biographies which appeal to the hearts and imaginations of children. PART 11. PEAGTICE.^ ANNOTATED OUTLINES OP LESSONS ILLUSTRATING THE METHOD OP DIRECT MORAL INSTRUCTION. I. SELF-CONTROL. Here is a king seated on his throne. Imagine robes, jewels, crown ; palace and courtiers. Perhaps you can tell me of what country this old story is told ? {rough map on blackboard shoiving India and its icestern border-lands). Yes, Persia. A courtier sits at the king's side, answering "Yes, sire," or "No, your majesty," as the king gives orders that troops shall be moved, taxes collected, etc. Now, you girls and boys, I want you to watch the courtier ; be detectives ! {The teacher, while imitating the courtier s speech, clutches his back with one hand.) The conversation is finished, and the courtier retires bowing. {Imitate.) And now have you noticed anything particular that he was doing ? {One of the pupils may have observed the action, and you compliment him on his detective skill.) Let me explain why he did this. Beaching home, he ^ A title is placed at the head of each lesson for the convenience of the reader; but, in practice, I should never announce the subject to the children unless it is continued from a previous instruction. 123 124 MOEAL INSTEUCTION : appealed to his wife to help him off with his coat. His back was marked by the stings of this unpleasant creature {rough sketch of scorpion). News of the in- cident came to the king's ears. Next day he asked the courtier, " Why did you not tell me you were in such discomfort ? You kept so calm, I knew nothing of your trouble." The courtier replied: "It is an honour to talk with such a king as you, sire, and I would not allow a scorpion to break our conversation ; and, be- sides, if to-day I could not bear the sting of a small scorpion, how could I go out to-morrow in your service and meet the peril of the sword ? " From "Akhlaki Muhsini," translated by H. G. Keene, pp. 3, 4. In this case, as in practically all the stories subsequently employed, details are thrown in by the teacher's invention. It is noteworthy how the simple manoeuvi-e of imitating the courtier clutching his back at once creates a readiness on the part of the children to watch the teacher's actions all through the lesson. " Dramatically begun is half-done." The courtier felt the pain of the sting. Tell me what he did with the pain while he talked with the king? {''Kept it down''; ''Hid it"; "Suppressed it,'' etc.) Your answers are correct ; yet you have not given me the word I want to-day. When you learn to ride a bicycle you find it hard to keep your balance. You cannot? — control it, or master it. The courtier con- trolled his pain. Now tell me, whom did he control ? {One child is almost certain to saij "The scorpion".) No, indeed ; he would have been more comfortable if he could have done so ! (" He controlled himself") Yes ; and if he controlled and mastered himself and his pain, what kind of control shall we call that? {" Self -con- ITS THEOKY AND PEACTICE 125 troV Write this on the hlackhoard. The real to2)ic of the lesson has noiv emerged.) Should you call self- control a good thing or not a good thing ? (Various replies; probably the general reply will be "Good".) Well, let us talk about it and find out. In May, 1910, Edward the Seventh, king of England, died. You may have seen newspaper pictures of the Throne-room in which the dead king lay in state. At each corner of the bed stood a guardsman, dressed in scarlet tunic and huge black bearskin hat, and bowing the head over gloved hands, which rested on the butt of his rifle. While on gaard, each man stood motionless {imitate) for an hour. Was not that self-control? Was it easy? It was indeed very difficult. Do you happen to know anybody who would find it difficult to keep still like the soldiers for only three minutes ? {Significant smiles.) I do not, however, wish to know that person's name ! This self-control of the guards- men, was it good ? Yes. Were they willing to exercise it ? Yes, Why ? (" Oat of respect to the king " ; "it loas their duty.") You have spoken a most splendid word — Duty. The lesson was first given shortly after King Edward's death and the incident had an immediate interest. It serves to indicate how events narrated by journalists for purposes of vivid description only may be turned to other ends by the observant teacher. Suppose a boy was bidden by his teacher'to sit quite still for a few minutes. He might grumble to himself, " Ha ! it's all very fine for the teacher, who is bigger and stronger than I am, to order me to sit still ; but when I'm a man "... Well, consider the soldiers again. Were they strong men or weak men ? Strong, 126 MOKAL INSTKUCTION: tall, six-foot men. Were they timid in face of danger {strike a shrinhing attitude), or brave? {strike a con- fident attitude). Brave, of course. And were these strong, brave men willing to exercise self-control ? Yes. Then if the boy thought self-control was only for small, weak boys, and not for men, was he right or wrong ? He was wrong. Is not self-control good for men? Women ? Yes, as well as for girls and boys. This brief discussion illustrates a principle too often ignored by dogmatic and martinet teachers, namely that morality has a universal message, and addresses its monition to the adult as well as (and as a matter of fact, more than to) the child. Here is India again {sketch-map, ivhich can he drawn in two seconds), and I will tell you a very ancient Indian story. There was once a king — we are hearing a good deal of kings to-day ! — who had five sons. Stop a mo- ment ; do you children go to school ? What for? (" To learn " : " to be educated "). Do princes need to be edu- cated ? (" Yes") You seem to understand princes ! Yes ; they do. Now, the king wished his sons lo learn to do this {imitate archer) — to shoot with bow and arrow. The teacher set up a target which he made himself, a bird modelled in clay. {Outline of bird on blackboard.) First of all, he asked each young prince to tell what he saw. They answered, "a bird," "a branch supporting a bird," and so on. Last of all spoke prince Arjuna afterwards a famous hero. "I see," said he, "a bird's head, and in that head only an eye ". At this reply the teacher was much pleased. Why? {This is not at all an easy question ; and it is a happy stroke if some acute girl or boy perceives that the eye is a vital spot for a ITS THEOKY AND PRACTICE 127 hunter to aim at.) You see Arjuna picked out the one thing that mattered for a hunter's ahri. The story is from the epic poem, the " Mahabharata," and is selected by Miss M. E. Noble, in her " Web of Indian Life/' p. 118, as peculiarly characteristic of Indian psychology. More than once I have been chided for relating it, on the ground of the suggested cruelty to animals ; and this complaint raises questions of interest. Must one avoid all incidents that are unpleasant or blameable ? If (as is the fact) the story aptly displays a mental characteristic, and if it is classical, may one nob venture to employ it for that special element in it ? And cannot the teacher, in a passing word, explain that he is not commending the shooting of a bird's eye, but showing how the young prince fixed his mind on an all-important feature ? Think of Arjuna holding the bow {i^nitate) and looking fixedly at the bird. Is this self-control ? He is con- trolling his eye, hand, body, thought. He has chosen the . . . {Erase the sketch, except the dot that repre- sented the eye ; and round the dot quickly draw a circle ; the reply will soon arrive) centre. If he aims at the centre — the middle of the target — the thing that matters, he is able to ... I wonder if you can give me the word. {With or without the help of the class you reach the word " con-centr-ate "). What, then, have we found self-control can do ? It can concentrate ; it can aim at the centre. {On blackboard, " S. G. can concen- trate".) Is it good to be able to concentrate ? Most certainly it is. Let us look at these two boys. Each has a sum to do. Boy number One works steadily on {imitate boy's manner), and gets the sum right ! Can he concentrate ? Yes. Boy number Two gapes about {imitate), and gets the sum wrong, or it is not done at all. Could the first boy aim at the centre ? Did 128 MOEAL INSTRUCTION: he hit the centre ? Did the second hoy aim at the centre ? No ? Well, what did he aim at ? (" Noth- ing " ; " everything ".) I shall not call the second boy hard names. I am sorry he cannot concen- trate. Can you concentrate ? {Pause. Some may say " Yes ".) You can, indeed. How do I know that you can ? {"Because we are paying attention to you.") What centre are you aiming at ? (" You.") Go on concen- trating. Your aiming at me will not hurt me ! I like your arrows. And if to-morrow you have an errand to do, and if you go straight to the business ; if you con- centrate on it, you will do well ; it is glorious to be able to concentrate. I will relate another old tale. This thing happened more than a thousand years ago, here {hasty map of Scotland) . This country opposite {rapid stroke) is ? {" Ireland") At that time the people on the west coast of Scotland were less gentle, less civilized, than the people of Ireland. It came into the heart of a good Irishman that he would hke to go across to these wild folk, and put better thoughts into their minds, and rouse better feelings in their hearts. He wanted comrades in the work. Twelve men offered to go with him. In a vessel of osier they set out, and reached the islet of Oronsay. Why not settle here, and teach the Christian faith ? The leader climbed a hill, and gazed to the south- west. He could descry dear old Ireland, his birthplace, and the home of his kindred. Then he said to his twelve comrades, " We must not stay here, for I can see Ireland ". They voyaged to the island of lona, from the highest point of which no sign of Ireland could be seen. Here, therefore, he dwelt for many years. ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 129 building a church and a monastery, and blessing the people with his message. I have told you the story of St. Columba. From the Rev. S. Baring-Gould's " Lives of the Saints, " volume for June. Why would not Columba stay in the island of Oronsay, whence he could sea Ireland '? (" Because he would want to go hack.'') Very well, but if you or I left our native land for awhile, and wished to go back, would that be wrong ? (" No.'") Then why would it be wrong for St. Columba? (" Because he would not be doing the work he set out to do.'') What was that work ? (" Teaching the people.") Then did he aim at a centre ? Did he hit it ? Could he concentrate ? What on ? Had he self-control ? Self-control could concentrate. But tell me ; when St. Columba concentrated his mind on lona, what did he do to Ireland ? (" Left it behind.") Exactly. Then "self-control can leave behind" the things that do not matter. {On blackboard, " S. C. can leave behind ".) You remember the two school boys. Could boy number One leave behind the things that did not matter ? Could boy number Two ? We will travel across the world again. Here are Asia and Australia {a few lines suffice), and here are the East Indies, and here is New Guinea. In the year 1774 an English sailor, Captain Thomas Forrest, was voyaging to New Guinea, and he anchored off one of the East Indian islands. He landed, and walked alone in this far- away spot; Q,Tidi-^xe;^eTit\Y {attitude of surprise), . . . who were these people who surrounded him ? (" Savages ! ") Yes ; imagine their dark skins ; feathers on heads ; weapons in hands. What is Captain Forrest to do now ? 9 130 MOEAL INSTEUCTION: (" Rmi" ; " Stand still " ; " Control himself,'" etc.) He looked at the savages with a calm, steady eye {imi- tate) ; and then he quietly put his hand into the bosom of his coat, and drew out? ... {''A revolver'' is an almost certain ansioer ; others will say, "Beads" ; others, perhaps, " A Bible ".) You are all wrong ! He drew out something which he put to his lips. {Imitate ; and a shout of " A flute ! " will follow) Yes, he took out a German flute, and slowly fixed it together — the natives staring all the while — and then he played a tune, an air by Correlli. The weapons were lowered ; all attention was fastened on the magic flute ; and Captain Forrest gently walked backwards ; why back- wards '? {''Towards the boat.'') Towards the boat, from which his men eagerly watched him. By the time he reached the shore, the natives, charmed with his music, had lost all desire to hurt him. Was that self- control ? And what did the self-control do for him ? (" Saved his life.") A very good thing for Captain Forrest ! This amusing anecdote is given in the ' ' Memoirs of a Malayan Family," translated by W. Marsden in 1830. If the teacher feels there is an element of the apocryphal in it, he can say, with a smile, "I am not sure that if you or I landed among savages, we should find a flute so useful, but I give you the tale as I read it ". But I want to know something else. (Ask this question very deliberately, so as to suggest that it is a difficulty to be overcome.) What did Captain Forrest's self-control do to the savages? {A smart child may say, " Hypnotized the^n ! " With patience, one may at length educe the answer, "It controlled them".) So we have found another wonderful thing about self- ITS THEOKY AND PEACTICE 131 control. {Write " S. G. can control others ".) No doubt you sometimes sit next to a fidgetty person, and it is not pleasant. You, of course, are better; you can exer- cise self-control, and may this self-control do your fidgetty neighbour any good ? Yes ; and how ? (" By giving him an example,'" etc.) Quite so; and now you see why steady people are in the world ; they are here to help the others to be calm and steady. A simple illustration like this — perfectly comprehensible by ordinary children — recalls the principle of positive instruction insisted upon in Part I. The negative method would be to scold cases of want of self-control ; the positive method kindles an honourable pride in the sense of acting as a good influence. It should be observed that the steady child is not asked to talk morals to his restless companion ; he is only asked to remain steady. And now one more story — only one, lest you all go to sleep ! The rest have been about men and boys ; this shall be about a woman — a woman such as you some- times see pass in the street, in a plain long cloak, big white collar, neat bonnet with a streamer. (" A hospital nursed) Think of her work-place ; the hospital ; the wards ; the beds ; the patients ; and this stately gentle- man with glasses is . . . (" The doctor.") One evening a lad was brought in very ill with typhoid fever ; his lips were blue- white ; he seemed dying. Nurse Ahce prepared to sit up with him all night. The doctor had ordered some nourishment to be given him every quarter of an hour. The lad, Johnny, begged nurse Alice to read an interesting book to him. Thus, reading aloud, and continually stopping to administer nourishment to the patient, the nurse passed the long hours. How weary at times she felt, but the patient knew nothing 9* 132 MOKAL INSTKUCTIONI of her tired feelings ; he only saw her smile, and only heard her cheerful voice. The scorpion was stinging her, but she did not let the king know. Whom do I mean by the king? (" The patient " — the children ivill unfailingly give this response.) At length the blessed dawn broke, and its light showed a faint colour return- ing to Johnny's cheeks and lips. In walked the stately gentleman, rubbing his hands with pleasure at the sight of the boy's improvement. "Johnny," said nurse, "I think I'll lie down, and I'll call another nurse." " Oh^ do," he said, "and what a nice happy night we have had, haven't we'?" Happy! How little he knew of the scorpion. You will agree that nurse Ahce exercised self-control during that weary night. You remember Captain Thomas Forrest? For whose sake did he exercise self-control ? For his own sake, and quite right too. {Blackboard: " S. G.for one's oivjisake".) And for whose sake did nurse Alice exercise self-control ? For the patient's ; for another's sake. And which is nobler — self-control for one's own sake, or for the sake of others ? {Blackboard : " S. C. for the sake of others ".) Yes, it was most beautiful — that self-control of the woman. I will finish the story. Years afterwards, she met John as a stalwart man. How pleased she felt at the memory of having nursed him to health. How glad that she had not let the king know ! The fiaal story is adapted from Mrs. Alice Terton's " Lights and Shadows in a Hospital," p. 25. It furnishes the ethical climax, and shows how self-control (like other character-qualities) does not attain its true glory until embodied in service. The lesson^ as above described, is too long for ordinary purposes, and could easily ITS THEORY AND PBACTICE 133 be sub-divided into two, or even three, conversations. It should be noted that the formal instruction terminates before the teacher's last word is uttered, the closing sentences affording a simple pre- sentation of a concrete scene. No moralizing should on any account be added. I may remark that this lesson has been a favourite with me, and in Great Britain and America I have delivered it oftener than any other. In ray opinion it reaches the highest allowable standard of difficulty for children up to the age of 14, and neither in subject nor in treatment should any lesson impose a greater demand on the attention of the young listeners. II. COURAGE. A black man, named Johnson, had a boxing contest with a white man, named Jeffries, at Reno (Nevada), U.S.A., in July, 1910. Fifteen rounds they fought in a ring, which was watched by 20,000 spectators. The black man won. Many people were delighted to see, or "to read about, the blows, the cuts, the bleeding, the falls. . . . Well, what do you think of such fights ? (Various replies.) Do you know what mother or father thinks? {Various replies.) Whatever we think, one thing, at any rate, is plain ; both the men showed a certain spirit, a certain quality? (" Courage ".) Now, should you say it was courage of mind ? Or courage of body, courage of muscles ? (" Courage of body ".) Yes ; though, of course, their minds were at work in a way — not, I think, in a very happy way. You may perhaps, perform exercises of body at a class, and those exercises are called? {"Physical".) And courage of body is ? {" Physical courage." On blackboard, write, " Courage, physical "). Incident drawn from the newspapers. Care should be taken not to dwell upon the merely sensational aspect. At the same time 134 MOKAL INSTKUCTION: the teacher should not hesitate to make use of such current events. He must not allow the sensation-monger to get in front of him, and monopolize all the exciting stories. In the same summer that Jeffries and Johnson fought at Reno, some boys who Uved near London went to play in a field by the Grand Junction Canal. Five of them proceeded to the canal to bathe, and none of them could swim. A nine year old boy, Harold, was carried off his feet by the current. His friend, Douglas Smith, was on the bank. When he saw Harold in difficulties, he ex- claimed, "He's drowning. I'm going in after him." But Douglas also got into difficulties. I grieve to say both he and his friend were swept away, and drowned. Mr. Waterlow ran up, and dived seven times after the boys, but the water was so black, he could not discover the bodies. They were found later. An inquest was held, and the coroner remarked that all boys should learn to swim. You will agree that Douglas was a brave boy. He had physical courage, but something was lacking. He lacked the power to swim, and courage alone was not enough to save his comrade and himself from drowning. {Blackboard — " Phijsical courage without power ".) Let us all get as much power as ever we can. The incident, drawn from the newspaper, is ordinary in character. I always prefer such cases, attested by correct names and dates, etc., to any invented example, introduced by — "Suppose a party of boys went to bathe in a canal," and the like. The point here touched is of great importance, namely the encouragement of power and ability. It is an illu^itration of the positive method so often emphasized in these pages. A furniture warehouse caught fire at Sunderland, in April, 1911. The flames broke out in the basement through the fusing of an electric wire. A girl named ITS THEOEY AND PRACTICE 135 Charlotte Crosby called for help from a window forty feet above the road. Who should come by but Eoland Goodyear, a boot-salesman. When he saw the girl in peril he pushed his way through the crowd, and climbed up an iron water-spout, till he reached the level of the window. He bade Charlotte lean out, and clasp his neck, and swing herself off ; and she did so ; and he slid down with his burden amid the loud cheers of the people. If you take exercise in a gymnasium you will know that climbing is a task that needs training. One has to learn the knack, the ability, the power. Roland Goodj'^ear possessed it. {Blackboard : " Courage and power ".) Both the swimming and climbing are fairly simple types of power ; and one must beware of suggesting that coui'age is in- efficient until an elaborate ability is acquired. At the close of a summer day in 1910 a crowd of people, who had been enjoying the beauties of the New Forest, waited for the train at Lyndhurst Road Station, Hampshire. An express was about to pass through, when a four-year-old boy overbalanced and fell on the hne. A shout of horror arose. A middle-aged porter, William Piercy, was wheeling some luggage along the platform. He left his truck, jumped on the line, seized the child's arm, and leaped across to the other line of metals, the express engine brushing his coat as he escaped. The crowd cheered, the parents were over- joyed ; and William Piercy — what do you suppose he did ? He went on wheeHng his truck as if nothing had occurred. He might have stood in the midst of the crowd, listening to their praises, and there would have been nothing wrong in that. But he went on wheeling his truck, as if he did not court public notice. What 136 MOEAL INSTKUCTION: sort of a man should you therefore call him ? (" Modest") And his quality of character. (" Modesty." Black- board : " Courage and modesty ".) At this stage the children have a sense of construction in the lesson. They perceive that Courage is not an isolated quality. It combines with a variety of attributes. Incidentally, one notes how such a story as that just given might be employed for a different purpose, in a lesson on Modesty. The conclusion would then read conversely, that Modesty may be the quality of a hero. Now for a Japanese tale (rapid map of east coast of Asia and Japan). Some sixteen hundred years ago a river was swollen by floods, and two breaches were made in an embankment, and the water poured over meadows and farms ; and great was the people's dismay. The Emperor had a dream, in which he beheld the river-god, clad in dripping weeds, and the river-spirit said, " If you wish to be delivered from the flood offer up to me a sacrifice of two men ; one is Koha-kubi, the other is Koromo-noko ; then the breaches in the embankment will close up". Next day these two men were seized, and presented as offerings to the river-god. They must die by drowning. Koha-kubi wept, plunged in, and died. But Koromo-noko had reflected. He said to himself, " This is a bad old custom ; it is not right, nor is it reasonable, that men should be sacrificed ; rather should the people labour to make better embankments ". He asked for two calabashes, or gourds, which, when hollowed out, are used as bowls, etc. If thrown into water, what would they do, sink or float? ("Float.") Then Koromo-noko stood up with fearless heart, and he looked at the flood and said, " If, river-spirit, you wish me to come to you, then sink these calabashes ; ITS THEOEY AND PEACTICE 137 and if they do not sink, then the Japanese people will know that it was an error to practise this old custom of man-slaying ". At that (so says the legend) a whirlwind arose, but it failed to sink the calabashes ; and they went bobbing up and down along the stream towards the great Pacific Ocean, until the people could see them no more. The courage of Koromo-noko had saved his life, and what else had it done ? (" Saved otiier people's lives,'" etc.) ' That is true. Had he physical courage ? ("Fes.") And any other courage? {''Courage of the mind " ; " courage of the soul " ; " moral courage," the latter reply to he tcritten on the blackboard.) Yes, moral, in standing alone, in resisting a bad old custom. The story is taken from W. D. Aston's " Shiuto, the Way of the Gods," pp. 151-2. Here again the illustration could obviously be used for other purposes, as, for instance, in a lesson on the historical progress of humane sentiment. Now, did Koromo-noko exercise the courage for his own sake only, or for other people as well ? ThLs is incapable of conclusive answer, and the value of the question is in making that inconclusiveness emerge. Many chil- dren will at once say "Yes," since they can see how the action would benefit people in the future. Others will say "No," if, perchance, your manner of narrating stressed the defiant and self- assertive side. The more thoughtful children will pause, and say they don't know ; and this hesitating reply should be praised. Even a puzzled silence deserves praise in such cases. I have often commended children for the silence of doubt. Well, I will close this talk with a story about which you will, I hope, have no doubt. In a small Armenian town (rapid shetch-map) a number of the inhabitants were massacred by Turks. Though there are fine things in the character of the 138 MORAL INSTRUCTION: Turks, yet they have often given way to these terrible feelings of hatred against Armenians. The Turkish pasha v^^as letting the horror go on when he was accosted by the French Consul, M. Meynier. The Consul at length persuaded the pasha to let the rest of the Armenians march down to the coast, whence they might sail to some European port. But the question arose, who was to lead these people, who were ignorant of the road, and in dread of the Turks ? The Consul's duties kept him in the town. His wife, the mother of two children, one an infant at the breast, offered to act as captain to this unhappy host of 300 men, women, and little ones. So they set out, and proceeded for fifteen days, Madame Meynier walking watchfully at the rear, carrying her baby, and leading the other child at her side. If the people lost heart, a glance at the captain's face gave them hope again ; yet she carried no weapon of war in her hand. And so they trudged, over hills, along valleys, till, at a river, their course was checked by a Turkish Governor of that district. He refused to let the people pass. " Take my children over first," she said to an Armenian, and he waded through the stream ; and the people followed, Madame Meynier last. {The final replies will decide that she showed ''physical courage," ajid ''moral courage for the sake of others".) And the Turk, looking at the brave woman's face, yielded ; and the Armenians were saved. The lesson has not ended with a blackboard summary ; it has ended with the picture of the people delivered. The story will be found in M. Charles Richet's " Le passe de la guerre " (published in 1907), pp. 118-9. It may be noted that the passing remark as to the better qualities of the Turkish character was inserted quite de- ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 139 liberafcely, and I suggest the method should be usually adopted when a story might seem to cast evil reflection upon any national honour. In this lesson on Courage, as in that on Self-control, the final item is a story of feminine virtue ; and I may say that, without making a mechanical rule, I follow this order as often as possible. III. TRUTHFULNESS. A sculptor was modelling, in clay, the figures of Christ, soldiers, people of Jerusalem, Pontius Pilate the Roman Governor, in a bas-relief of " The procession to Golgotha ". Golgotha was the hill — the "place of a skull" — on which the three crosses Were set up, on which to crucify Christ and the two thieves. The sculptor was the famous Thorwaldsen of Denmark. A friend visited his studio; and this was the writer of books so well known to children, Hans Christian Andersen. The visitor looked carefully at the figure of Pilate the Governor, and Thorwaldsen asked, " Do you think I have dressed him correctly?'' A lady who was present whispered to Andersen, " Say it's all right ". But Andersen rephed, " Well, I must say I think the dress is not correct ; Pilate looks more like an Egyptian than a Roman ". "You are right," said Thorwaldsen; and he picked up the model of Pilate, and broke it to pieces. The lady cried, "What a pity to destroy an immortal work " ! " We can make another immortal work," said the sculptor with a smile. He modelled another Roman governor, taking pains to represent the true Roman dress. The bas-relief may be seen to-day in the Ladies' Church at Copenhagen. You will agree that it was right to break the untrue 140 MOEAL INSTRUCTION: figure and make a new and true one. Thorwaldsen's business was to make beautiful things in wood and stone. Such a worker is called '? (An artist.) And his work is ? (Art.) The artist, then, should be true in his art ; true in his work of beauty. (Blackboard : True in Art.) The anecdote is from Andersen's " Story of My Life," translated in 1852, pp. 84-5. I draw the reader's attention to the manner in which the lesson on Truthfulness opens with an illustration of unspoken truth. Parents and teachers (and children, of course, as a conse- quence) are in the habit of treating veracity as a concern of the lips first and foremost. This is both bad ethics and bad psychology. The root of truthfulness is sincerity ; and sincerity is an attitude and temper; a habit and a demeanour. The maxim Live Openly is far preferable to the narrow maxim, so often heard in home and school, Speak the truth. If a picture of a Roman in the characteristic costume of the toga, etc. is procurable, it may with advantage be shown to the class, and compared, if possible, with an Egyptian picture. ' In the land of Burma {rough map), which is part of the British Empire, a railway had to be carried over a river in the Gokteik Gorge. Tall cliffs, shaggy with trees, rose to the height of 820 feet above the bottom of the gorge. An English company was constructing the railroad, but they gave the order for a bridge to a com- pany in Pennsylvania, U.S.A. The American bridge- builders had an exact plan of the gorge before them, and they constructed all the numerous parts of the bridge in Pennsylvania. So exactly and truly did the parts fit that when they were pieced together in Burma, the bridge was perfect, and before long heavy trains were rolling over the Gokteik Gorge, thanks to the accuracy of the American engineers. They were, in a way, artists. But it is usual to speak of works of beauty as ITS THEOKY AND PKACTICE 141 art ; and ordinary work is spoken of as "craft". Like Thorwaldsen, then, the engineers did true work. {Black- hoai'd : True in craft.) See Russell Doubleday's " Stories of Inventors, " p. 134. The author quotes a similar instance of a bridge over Niagara Rapids. A* gentleman whom I have had the pleasure of meet- ing, Mr. C. K. Ashbee, is a clever worker in both arts and crafts — in woodwork, copper-work, silver-work, and so on. Once he designed a pretty silver brooch, and it was placed in the window of his Arts and Crafts Guild Depot in Brook Street, London. A (smart man walked in one day and had a talk with the shopman, and bought the silver brooch. I must tell you that Mr. Ashbee and his fellow-craftsmen work without machinery. They love to create things " by hand," as being more beautiful, and (as people say) more human. Six weeks later the shopman saw that brooch among twenty others of the like pattern in another shop window, and with a label attached, *' Our exclusive design ". His sharp eye saw at once that the twenty brooches were not hand-made. They were made by machinery. Now what sort of brooches might we call these twenty ? {"False''; "untrue" ; "imitation," etc.) It was a very mean thing, not only to steal another craftsman's design, but to turn out the article by machinery when the first craftsman had meant it to be made by hand only. {Blackboard ; " Untrue craft ".) The example is given in Mr. Ashbee's " Craftsmanship in Com- petitive Industry," p. 34. The illustration belongs to that negative class which, when employed with due proportion, is effective as marking contrast with the positive and admirable. Dr. Wilfrid Grenfell, the well-known medical man and missionary in Labrador and Newfoundland, had 142 MOEAL INSTRUCTION : voyaged along the bleak Labrador coast for six months in his hospital-ship, the " Strathcona "; and he anchored for a rest in a Canadian bay. He heard that His Ex- cellency the Governor-General of Canada was coming to inspect the ship. Now the " Strathcona " was not just then very neat and smart. The flag was ragged ; the masts were grimed with smoke, and salted by the spray. The deck-houses had lost their varnish. The sides were scraped by fishing-boats which had come to the " Strath- cona," carrying a prayer for help. Should the vessel be painted ready for the inspection ? Dr. Grenfell thought to himself: " My ship has travelled thousands of miles, from point to point along this rugged coast ; it has taken aid to the sick, aid to sufferers from accidents ; it has distributed books to lonely settlers ; it has conveyed orphan children to homes ; it has left food for men and dogs at sohtary spots, so that wanderers might find and enjoy ; it has taken clothing to the poor and the ship- wrecked. Hence the wear-and-tear of my vessel. These smears and scratches are the signs of good work. No ; the ship shall not be painted. The Governor- General shall see it as it is." Dr. Grenfell wished the vessel to appear what it really was ; and though, of course, no one would have thought the worse of him for painting the vessel, yet I think it was fine of him to let the Governor-General inspect the " Strathcona" with all the marks of toil on its weather- beaten body. {Blackboard : " True in appearance".) From Dr. Grenfell's " Down to the Sea," pp. 17, 18. It is obvious that the Doctor might have legitimately made the ship presentable out of compliment to His Excellency ; and the children would prob- ably observe as much. This is an example of an illustration which ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 143 might permit of irrelevant digression. The central point is per- fectly clear, and the teacher should see that it is kept so. In December, 1910, early one morning, while it was yet dark, an express train (from London)dashed into two light engines which, by mistake, had been left on the line. The signalman had forgotten that these engines were left there ; and sad was the scene of the accident that took place in the darkness, and amid a torrent of rain ; a number of passengers were killed. An inquest was held, and the signalman at Hawes Junction was called to give evidence. He had had control of the part of the line where the accident happened. He was asked how the light engines came to be left on the down Hne (from London^ He had been at work in his box more than nine hours. He might have excused himself by saying he was tired or faint or ill. No ; he told the truth ; he was in perfect health ; he felt quite fit for the work ; it was nobody's fault but his own. He was grieved at his error, as was everybody else ; but he related his story openly and frankly, and lost nobody's respect. (Black- board : " True in speech ".) From the newspapers of the period. The incident is a type of a class of stories which are well worth the teacher's attention ; stories of error and resultant misfortune, the tragedy being re- deemed by manly admission and regret- It is a very great mistake in method to select only the cases of virtue happy and successful. We will close with a Red Indian tale. In the Sioux tribe, in the year 1881, a murder was committed ; the chief Spotted Tail was killed by Crow Dog. The murderer quietly surrendered to the police ; he was tried at a court in South Dakota, and he was condemned to death. But I will tell you why he took 144 MOEAL INSTRUCTION : the chief's life. Nearly thirty years previously, the man named Spotted Tail made himself chief of the tribe. In doing this against the will of many of the Sioux " braves," he had been supported by the American soldiers ; and the soldiers supported him because he rendered them a service. The tribesmen held a secret meeting, and asked the young Sioux, Crow Dog, to vow that, if ever Spotted Tail was false to his duty and acted badly, he. Crow Dog, would slay Spotted Tail in the name of the tribe. He took the vow. Time passed. The chief's conduct was evil, and Crow Dog killed him. At the time of the trial nothing was said about the vow. Judge and jury did not know the story. A few days before the date of the execution, Crow Dog asked leave to visit his distant home, his wife and twin nine-year-old boys. Leave was granted. Riding on horseback, and escorted by a deputy-sheriff, the con- demned Indian journeyed to the camp. The deputy- sheriff put up for the night at a government building, and, having faith in Crow Dog's honesty, told him to go on to his wigwam and report himself again next day. Next day came, and Crow Dog did not appear. Some Indian policemen were sent to the wigwam. The wife stood at the door. " My husband is not here," she said. "Where is he?" " He wished to ride alone. He left this morning on his way back to the prison in Rapid City." Hours had passed. It was too late to pursue, even if the deputy-sheriff had disbeheved the story. Next day a telegram came from the police of Rapid City — " Crow Dog has just reported here ". ITS THEOKY AND PRACTICE 145 The Red Man had kept his word. {Blackboard ; " True to promise ".) He had a soul above deceit. He had what some white men have not, a sense of? (" Honour.'') When, however, this became known to the public, they were interested. Inquiries were made. The facts about the vow came to light. A new trial was ordered, and the prisoner was acquitted, and set free. It is true he had slain a man, and that was a wrong action; but, to Indian minds, he had done right ; he had shown loyalty to the tribe. And he had displayed the fine qualities of truth and honour. In 1911 Crow Dog was still alive, aged 75, and re- spected by all his neighbours. The incident is narrated by Mr. 0. Eastman (himself an Indian by birth) in "The Soul of an Indian," published in 1911, pp. 110- 113. The lesson above given is merely a pointer to a very wide field. Reflection will suggest a large number of applications of the prin- ciple of veracity to daily work, industrial production, and artistic creation. The clock itself, and the arrangement of the world's procedure, must truthfully obey the motions (apparent) of the sun. A wall must be built truly by the plumb-line. An honest builder builds true to his specifications. Food sold in the market, supplied by tender, etc., should answer truly to its description (and nega- tively, the topic will involve censure of adulteration, etc.) In all these cases veracity is a practised virtue, and not a mere utterance of the lips ; and I cannot too strongly emphasize the importance of laying stress upon these aspects of conduct, as well as upon the duty of truthful speech. IV. KINDNESS. The following lesson does not treat kindness as an impulse of good will, or even as a mere habit, though it is proper to com- mend the impulse as one would commend any healthy instinct, and it is also proper to commend the trained feeling which acts 10 146 MOEAL INSTEUCTION: habitually. I am in the present case trying to represent kindness as a dynamic by which the kind nature expands, marches, and reconnoitres. A lady pushed open the door of a humble cottage in Paris, and saw a sight that alarmed her. A child lay screaming on the floor, seriously hurt, covered with blood. The mother had gone out, — most likely, poor woman, obliged to do so on some necessary errand, — and had left the child alone in the cradle. The visitor was Madame de Pastoret. She of course hastened to pick up the child, wash its wounds, and console it. This incident set her thinking very anxiously. How many mothers, she reflected, are compelled to leave their little ones as this baby was left, and how many accidents happen in consequence. Could not a shelter be estab- lished where babies might be left for a time under good care ? Such shelters are common to-day, under the name of (" Creches.") The idea began with Madame de Pastoret. In the year 1801 she opened a " salle d'asile," or shelter-hall for fifteen children, who were watched over by good nuns ; and afterwards the num- ber of little ones received each morning and restored to their mothers at evening was thirty. Now what was the feeling which moved the heart of this Frenchwoman when she saw the child in trouble? (" Kindness.") But did anything happen besides her feel- ing this kindness, or pity? {"She helped the child.") And after that ? (" She helped other children.") It was, then, a feeling which worked out into deeds. She felt she must do something again and again. We will there- fore say? {Blackboard: " Kindness acts ; and goes on acting.") ITS THEOEY AND PEACTICE 147 From Julia Kavanagh's " Woineu of Christiauity," pp. 344-5 ; published in 1852. The teacher should uote that the object is not to analyse the whole theme of kindness, but simply to emphasize the value and beauty of a dynamic kindness ; and many things must be left un- said and incomplete so long as this central thought is made clear. The teacher should be at liberty to point out in passing that the "asile " was the beat device Madame de Pastoret could create, but modem humanity has other methods. Such considerations, how- ever, do not in the least invalidate the illustration. Another French story ! A peasant girl of Franche Comte, named Anne Biget, was passing over a bridge at the city of Besan9on. She carried a basket containing cakes made by herself as a present for her sister. A group of hungry-looking prisoners-of-war had halted on the bridge, and Anne's heart was touched with compas- sion. These haggard fellows needed the food more than her sister, and to them she gave her cakes. Here again is? {"Kindness".) But Anne was a child. Let us follow her as she grows. Do you remember that in 1789 and the few next years the French nation was greatly shaken and disturbed? ("By the French Be- volution.") During the Keign of Terror the prisons were crowded, and how glad and charmed were the prisoners to see Sister Martha, a sister of mercy, who came to comfort them in their despair; and Sister Martha was our old friend Anne Biget ; and to her house in Paris the aged, the sick, and children repaired for help. She was now a woman. The kind child — the kind woman. Will you link up these two by one word? (Blackboard: "The kind child heco7nes the kind looman ".) What a splendid becoming ! And there is more to tell. In 1805, in a hamlet near Besan^on, a 10 * 148 , MOKAL INSTEUCTION : cottage was on fire, and several persons were in danger of being burned to death. A woman rushed in and saved three of the inmates ; and the rescuer was Sister Martha. And there is more to tell. You remember the bridge ? The river Doubs ran under it. Into the river, in 1807, a child fell and struggled vdth the swift current. A woman plunged in . . . (" Sister Martha ! ") And there is more of this becoming. In 1816-17 a famine overshadowed the south-east of France, and 2000 persons were fed daily by the help of one good soul who had collected money from generous folk in Paris. You will have guessed again that this sister of pity was Martha — or Anne Biget. When Anne died in 1824 she was mourned by multitudes of grateful and admiring people. From Julia Kavanagh's " Women of Christianity," pp. 346-51. This is an excellent type of narrative, because it enables teacher and class to follow a development. A question or two will elicit the obvious truth that a child's kind act does not necessarily prove that a kind womanhood or manhood is assured. The point lies in the interest and beauty of the "becoming," as if one should say, "Is it not worth while growing, when one may grow in such a way ? " A doctor used to lecture to young men — medical students — on medical subjects, such as ? — {By loaij of amusing digression one asJcs this, and the ansioers luill probably cause a smile !) I may tell you that this lecturer was Dr. Marshall Hall, who invented a method of "restoring the apparently drowned". It should in- terest you to learn it from a paper freely given away by the Eoyal National Lifeboat Institution, London. The lecturer was paid to lecture. He did his work well ; he performed his? {"Dtity.'') Well, one day he noticed ITS THEOKY AND PEACTICE 149 that a student was absent. On inquiry, he found the young man was ill. He visited the student at his lodgings, and repeated the chief parts of the lecture to him, for the illness was not such as to prevent his understanding and carefully listening. Dr. Hall did this for three or four weeks. Was he paid to do this ? No. It was not part of his lecturing duty. He did it out of kindness. Kindness — duty. Can you link these two words in a way that will fit our story ? {Black- hoard : " Kindness goes beyond duty ".) The incident is told in G. Bettany's " Eminent Doctors," vol. I. p. 280. It should hardly be necessary to remark that the children will express the idea in a variety of modes. One can select any phrase that conveys the thought of a voluntary benevolence that does not content itself with a rigid performance of " duty ". While, however, one praises this generous overflow, no slur should be cast on the duty Avhich halts at the official limit. A lady had been away from her home at Cheltenham for a fortnight. Her little daughter, hearing of the mother's return, ran to meet her, pausing on the way to lean over a balustrade at the top of a flight of stairs. She was in the act of eager greeting, when she over- balanced and fell on the marble floor below and was killed. Great was the sorrow of the mother — Mrs. Josephine Butler. . . . While she was heavy with sad- ness she visited an old lady, one of her neighbours. This friend told her how a Girls' Home in the town was about to be closed, because the good matron who had hitherto kept it going was no longer able to do so, and the girls would be sent away. At once Mrs. Butler's mind was kindled. She must help the girls. She must keep the Home going. She must not sit grieving all the time 150 MOKAL INSTKUCTION: for her dead child ; and she prevented the Home from being closed. Kindness — sorrow; how shall we link these words ? {Blackboard : " Kindness overcomes sorroiv," etc.) From Mrs. Aubrey Richardson's " Women of the Church of England," p. 338. Another reply may be, "Kindness forgets sorrow," or the like. Such approximate answers will suffice, the essential idea being that personal grief is lightened by seeking to assuage the distress of others. Our last story belongs here (sketch-maj) of Netvfound- land, which the children may recognize). On Easter Sunday, 1908, the snow lay on the northern shore, and ice still covered the bay near which lived Dr. Wilfrid T. Grenfell. Messengers arrived in a sledge drawn by a team of Eskimo dogs, and reported that a boy who dwelt many miles away badly needed an operation. Dr. Gren- fell promised to come as soon as possible, and the mes- sengers departed. He loaded a sledge, and harnessed eight dogs, and started off, taking a short cut across the bay. Before long he felt the ice " sish," showing that it was soft and dangerous. The sledge sank, and he and the dogs scrambled on to an ice-floe. He lost his coat, hat, gloves, and overall as he struggled from one ice-floe to another, the dogs following. Some fishermen on the shore fancied they saw a distant figure on the ice, and they told the incident in the village near. One of the villagers hurried to a cHff in order to see if somebody really was in danger. The dusk was coming on. The man on the cliff had brought a telescope with him. His keen eye was applied to the glass ; he turned the tele- scope this way, that way, trying to discover, in the gathering darkness, a sign of the man in peril. What, ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 151 now, is kindness doing? {'' WatcJmig." Blackboard: ''Kindness ivatches".) He saw Grenfell waving his hands. He saw which way the ice-floe drifted. Dark- ness descended . . . Kindness had not watched in vain. Nothing could be done in the darkness. But, as soon as the dawn broke a boat, manned by five fishermen, put out amid the broken ice, reached the half-frozen doctor, took him and his five dogs on board (three had died), and gave him refreshment. A day or two later Dr. Grenfell reached the hospital to which the boy had been borne, and successfully performed the operation. The watcher with the glass had saved the doctor, and therefore the boy. From Dr. Grenfell's own narrative, '^Adrift on an Ice-pan ". As a matter of fact the doctor was reduced to such dire extremity that he felt compelled to kill and flay three of the dogs in order to pro- tect himself in their skins from the deadly cold ; and he afterwards regretfully raised a monument in memory of these three faithful creatures. My friend, Mr. Ernest Bell, the well-known advocate of kindness to animals, upbraided me for telling the .story in this original form ; and I have modified the tragedy in the manner in- dicated above. Readers must decide this somewhat difficult point for themselves. In any case the story is selected for the sake of the telescope incident. Whoever peruses Dr. Grenfell's affecting recital of his terrible night cannot fail to be moved by the picture of the doctor drifting in the darkness, and of the watcher on the cliff sweeping the horizon with his glass. This watchman seems to me a symbol of the compassion which vigilantly seeks its opportunity. V. RESPECT. Turban on head, and wearing a flowing robe and sandals, the teacher paced the street. One can imagine him with serious face and long beard. His name was Jalal. If you would care to know where the town was, 152 MORAL INSTRUCTION: here it is, {sketch-map of India) , where the tall Hindu Kush njountains rise, and where they slope down to the plain of Balkh. On Fridays the teacher would teach the people religion here {rough outline of a mosque). You know, perhaps, what this place of worship is ? {Various answers.) And you know, perhaps, to what rehgion or faith the people of this country are attached ? (" Mohammedan^) Mohammed, you may have learned, was once a camel-driver in this country {rough map of Arabia) of deserts, of palm trees, of wandering Arabs ; and he taught the people the knowledge of Allah, that is, of God. Let us return to the teacher in' the street. Some children were playing, and catching sight of Jalal they left their game, and ran to him, and saluted, as, no doubt, their parents had bidden them do. What, then, did they show to the teacher ? {" Bespect.") That is so ; respect. {" Bespect," on blackboard.) It happened, how- ever, that a small boy had been elsewhere at the moment of the salute, and he observed his playmates in the dis- tance bowing. At once he rushed up, crjang, " Wait for me till I come ". The Mohammedan teacher waited. The dot of a boy gravely bowed. What did Jalal do ? {" Bowed back.'') What, then, did he show to the boy ? {"Bespect.") Was it right of the boys of Balkh to show respect to the teacher ? (" Yes ".) Was it right of the teacher to show respect to the boys'? {"Yes".) What! to that little dot of a boy? ("Yes".) Yes, indeed. So it was right of Jalal to show respect to young people, just as it is right of me, your teacher, to show respect to you to-day. Respect looks down as well as up. To whom, ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 153 then, should you show respect besides elders such as me ? {"To younger children".) It is true; but I have ob- served elder children treat with rudeness and thought- lessness children younger than themselves. First of all, then, we agree that it is right to show respect to ? {"A child." Write on blackboard, "1. Child ".) From "Youth's Noble Path/' p. 140, citing an Arabic work " The Mesnevi. " This simple but excellent story I have related innumer- able times, and have never found it fail to interest. Never have the children failed to reply promptly when asked what Jalal did after the small boy bowed. The previous incident had given them the key to the good man's psychology. Such quick replies seem to me charming, and yet critics have often blamed me for so framing the questions that I practically ensured the answer I wished for ; I have no sympathy for the attitude which is never satisfied unless young minds are perpetually suspecting and deliberating. Let us have. joyful rushes sometimes, even in response to "leading" ques- tions. Note a certain unexpectedness in the conclusion. When the anecdote opens, the children imagine we are about to give a dry exhortation on respect to one's elders ! We change the scene to this country (rough map of France, ivhich the children may recognize). Some men with dirty faces and dirty clothes sat in a railway car- riage. An English gentleman, travelling in that part of Central France, entered this carriage. He was a novelist ; perhaps you can tell me the name of some novel. {Dickens's " David Copperfield," etc.) His name was Mr. Baring-Gould. The men's dirty faces were no disgrace. Can you guess what made them black ? {" Coal," " they were colliers.") Colliers going home in the evening. Mr. Baring-Gould had not been long in the carriage when the dirty men took their pipes from their mouths 154 MOEAL INSTKUCTION : and stopped smoking, glancing at Mr. Baring-Gould as they did so. Why? (" To show respect.'') Well, this needs thinking. Why did the Frenchmen show him respect? {"Because he teas an Englishman.'') Do you suppose, then, Frenchmen stop smoking whenever they see an Enghshman? (Smiles.) Find another reason. {"Because he ivas a ge?itleman.") Indeed! Then do you suppose French miners stop smoking whenever they see a gentleman ? {Smiles.) And be- sides, may not a miner himself be a gentleman ? (" Yes.") Well, I am worrying you unfairly. The fact is, I have only told you half the story. Mr. Baring- Gould coughed badly ; he had a touch of bronchitis. " The smoke annoys monsieur," said the French colliers. " No, no," said the Enghshman, " pray, go on smoking." But no, the colliers smoked no more while he was in the carriage. Now I will put the question another way. To WHOM did they show respect. {"Mr. Baring -Gould.") But they did not know his name ! (" To the bronchitis," a reply greeted ivith laughter.) The reply was actually given more than once ; and more than once the adult audience have laughed. Really, in spite of your laughing, it seems to me that the girl who said " To the bronchitis " is not far wrong. (A silent pause.) I repeat, to whom, to what person, did they show respect? {"To the person ivith the bronchitis," "To somebody who was not well.") And, in one word, name a person who is not well. (" Invalid.") Do you agree it is right to show respect to an invalid ? {"Yes.") Have you ever been invalids? {Various answers.) Are there ever invalids in your house ? And ITS THEOEY AND PEACTICE 155 if so, how may you show respect to them ? (" Various replies, followed by blackboard : " 2. Invalid ".) Mr. Baring-Gould narrates the incident in his " Deserts of Southern France," vol. I. pp. 104-6. The somewhat zig-zag route to the conclusion in this case is not always pursued. Now and then a keen child will at once divine the " Invalid " beneath the vesture of the Englishman, the gentleman, the novelist, etc. But this is a power of generalization not to be reckoned on. We change the scene to here {map of Italy). And psrhaps you can tell me the name of the large city for which this dot stands? {'^Florence.'") You may know of a famous Englishwoman who was born there, and named after it? {''Florence Nightingale^) Some people — -a certain family — resided once in Florence. . . . Well, there are various sorts, or classes, of people. There are, I am grieved to say, the Poor ; there are people who are in a Middle-class ; and what shall we call the people above? {''Millionaires,'' "Rich," "Nobility,'' "Aris- tocracy".) Very well, and when a person of "noble" birth, an aristocrat, meets a poor person, and if he behaves like this {assume a disdainful air), how is he acting? {"Proudly," " scornfully," etc.) And is that right? ("i^^o.") Do all aristocrats behave so ? {"No.") No, certainly not ; and this family at Florence, by name D'Azeglio, did not. One day one of the sons, a boy twelve years old, heard his parents talking of the nobility. "Father," he asked, "is our family noble? " You see, he had never heard about the aristocratic class of his own family ; his parents had no scornful pride. This boy, when yet younger, was walking with his mother in a public place in Florence, attended by an old servant. Something provoked him, and, losing his temper, he 156 MOEAL INSTKUCTION: raised a stick to strike the old man. Instantly the mother bade him desist ; and she made him kneel, in the sight of passers-by, and against the old man's wish, to apolo- gize. Do you think the Italian lady did right ? ("Yes.") She wished him to? (" Shoio respect to the servant.") Is it proper for servants to respect masters and mis- tresses? C' Yes.") Do they always do so? {''No.") Is it proper for masters and mistresses to show respect to servants? ^ (" Yes.") All of you have servants? ("No.") No? Do you never ride in a tramcar, etc. ? And while you ride for a penny, or five cents, etc., have you no servants? ("The Conductor.") I have seen people acting rudely to the conductor when he is only doing his duty. You see, if any person serves you for even a short time, you, during that time, have a servant, and should treat him with good manners. Blackboard : "3. Servant".) Countess Martinengo-Oesaresco tells the anecdote in her " Italian Characters," p. 161. The book abounds in interesting material. In this same country of Italy, so I have been told, King Edward VII of England was once expected as a visitor. It was at a seaport town, and I suppose the Mayor was waiting to receive the distinguished guest. Soldiers no doubt lined the way to the carriage, and the Itahan flag — red, white, and green, with a shield and crown in the centre — was raised aloft ; and if there was a band, it would of course play? ("God Save the King ") — an English anthem in honour of the English King. Well, but just as the King was about to land, it was discovered that the carpet which covered the path- way to the carriage was too short ! The King of Eng- land would have to walk on stone or gravel ! What ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 157 was to be done? {''Get another piece of carpet.") There was no time. ("Lay a coat clotvn.") You are thinking of Sir Walter Raleigh's cloak laid down for Queen Elizabeth to walk upon ! No, that was not the plan either. (" Bring the carriage nearer.") For some reason it was not possible. The flag was hastily laid down to fill the gap. Here is the King of England, "viva"! — the band! — the King bows right and left — watch him ! {Teacher walks and imitates ; pauses at the imaginary flag ; steps aside and salutes it.) What did King Edward do? {"Stepped aside" ; ''Saluted the flag of Italy".) What did he show to the flag? {"Respect.'') But tell me, what is a flag made of? {"Canvas" "Linen" "silk".) Then he saluted can- vas, or linen, or silk? {"No, the country.") The country 1 You mean the rivers, mountains, forests ? {"No, the people" ; "the nation".) Ah, the nation! The hearts of the people of Italy. But suppose King Edward had been visiting elsewhere, and another flag had lain on the ground, would he have saluted the flag of ? {Name this or that country.) Then we should re- spect? {"All nations.") But do all nations respect one another? {"No.") I will ask another question; and I fear your answer will be a dreadful one, yet true. What do nations sometimes do instead of showing friendly respect? {"They go to tvar.") They go to war . . . {Silence.) I am sorry that what you say is true. {Blackboard: 4. " All nations " .) A newspaper-cutting supplies the basis of the story, which, if not authentic, is at least hen trovato. The conclusion must not be laboured. This is not a lesson on International Peace, vital though that subject is. Occasionally, indeed, one may effectively advocate peace, as here, by a passing word and look. 158 MOKAL INSTEUCTION: You remember our old friend Jalal ? You remember his mosque, his prayers, his observance of Friday, the holy day. But who keep Sunday holy? (" The Chris- tians.'') Yes, the followers of Jesus Christ; the lovers of the Gospel and the Bible ; the worshippers in churches. And who keep Saturday holy ? (" The Jeics.") Yes, the lovers of the law of Moses ; the readers of the Old Testament ; the worshippers in the synagogue. And Jalal was? ("A Mohammedan.") He was passing along the street one day when he met a butcher. Now, the butcher was not a Moslem, or Mohammedan ; he came from the land of Armenia, and was a Christian. He greatly admired the good Jalal, though he and Jalal did not keep the same day holy, nor call God by the same name, nor thought the same of the Prophet Mohammed. He bowed. Do you think Jalal would return the bow? (" Yes.") This is the kind of " Yes " for which captious critics (as I regard them) often censure me. But what has happened ? In this little "Yes," uttered simply and spontaneously, the children proclaim the very essence of religious toleration. They may grow up and be untrue to the principle ; but may one not hope that their own naive " Yes " will be recalled in memory, and not entirely in vain ? He did return the bow to the follower of Jesus Christ. But this was not all. The Armenian butcher bowed again ; and the disciple of the Prophet Mohammed bowed back. The man who worshipped in a Christian church bowed a third tune. The man who taught out of the sacred Koran bowed in return. In short, the Christian bowed seven times, and so did the Moham- medan. And you think this was right? ("Yes.") Right to do what? (" To shoiv respect") To whom? ITS THEOEY AND PKACTICE 159 (" To people of another religion.'") Is there any religion we should not respect? ("No.") But another ques- tion, with, I fear, another sad answer. What has hap- pened sometimes among people of different religions, worshipping in different places of worship? ("They have persecuted.") It is true. {A pause ; thenonhlach- board : 5. " All religions".) The incident is drawn, like the former one, from " The Mesnevi ". We must accept broken and more or less vague replies in this difficult stage. The principle is so precious that it should be in- cluded if the children's capacity permits. I have not experienced any obstacle in conveying the general lesson of this little story ; but so much depends upon the spirit in which one tells it. It is time to close. But I should like to take you to this little island in the western sea off Scotland (jrough map showing lona). An old man had spent his life as a religious teacher, like Jalal, among the wild Scots of this island ; had built a church and a monastery ; and the people loved Columba, — such was his name. The aged Christian felt that his departure was near at hand, you know what I mean? {^^ He would die soon"); so he walked out with his servant Diarmid, as if to take a last look at the island. Now, as they walked, something touched Columba on the shoulder, and Diarmid rushed to scare it away. What was it? {Various guesses.) It was an old horse, a white horse, which had for many years carried milk every day to the monastery for the use of the monks. St. Columba was a faithful teacher ; and the horse had been a faithful? (" Servant.") The saint forbade Diarmid, and said, as he looked at the creatm'e's eyes, " No ; the horse loves me ; let him stay and weep for my departure ". And would the horse 160 MOKAL INSTEUCTION: weep ? {The children look dubious.) But in any case it was noble of the aged Columba to talk in that way. And he lifted up his hands and blessed the horse. He wished Diarmid to ? {" Bespect it.") Would he have respected an ass ? (" Yes.") And do our faithful animal servants always get our respect ? (" No.") But they de- serve it. (Blackboard : "6. Ariimals ".) Do you not see the steps of our Golden Ladder of Bespect '? — Animals ; child ; servant ; invahd ; all nations ; all religions. Tke story of St. Columba is from Mr. Baring-Gould's " Lives of the Saints," volume for June, pp. 124-5. The concluding brief summary can be omitted. I gave this lesson at a school in the United States, and was sorry when the principal of the school, in order to show off the boys' memories, insisted on cleaning my blackboard, and demanded that all the six steps of the ladder should be repeated with mechanical precision. It savoured too much of the odious practice of formal examination of moral instruction. Not by such methods are hearts touched.' VI. THE PUBLIC GOOD. I want to tell you why the children were so frightened. They played in the market-place, where men and women bought and sold at stalls and booths. Bound this open space, or forum, were large buildings which belonged to all the people of the city. This was the city {sketch-map of Italy, shotving Rome), and you will perhaps name the country; and the city; and the people — {" Bo7na7is") ; and the language which the Bomans spoke — (" Latin "). Do any of you know any Latin ? {Various replies ; take 1 Thio lesson on " Respect " was given before the members of the International Moral Education Congress at The Hague, 22 August, 1912, the class consisting of children of English residents. ITS THEOKY AND PEACTICE 161 note of a girl or boy who says "No".) Well, you re- member that some large buildings near the market-place belonged to the people. What do we call people's build- ings ? ("Public." If possible, get this ansicer from the child lohojust noio answered "No".) AVell, "public " is a Latin word ; and you told me you knew no Latin ! You know more Latin than you think ; and you talk more Latin every day than you know ! But about the children. The ground had trembled, a crack appeared in the earth; men, women, and children fled from a huge pit that had opened in the midst of the forum. What was to be done ? The pit was in the very centre of the city, a danger to all citizens, a danger to the people, or, as we just now said ? (" The public") The citizens went to the wise men, the augurs, and asked what they should do ? This was the answer, — " The pit will close up when the most precious thing in Eome is flung into its depths ". What do you think is the most precious thing in Eome, or London, Paris, New York, Bombay, etc. ? {Various replies.) At last the most precious thing was found. Look ! he comes riding on his horse {"A man .' "), a helmet on his head, a breast- plate on his breast, a shield on his left arm, a sword or spear in his right hand. He rides without fear amid the wonder of the people ; for their sakes, and their children's, he rides ; he leaps ; the pit closes up, and Curtius, such was his name, v/as no more seen. The market could be held ; the children could run across the forum without harm. Why call Curtius the most pre- cious thing in Eome ? (" Because he was a noble man," " unseljish," etc.) For whom did he give up his life? {''For the people,") That is to say, for the ? {"Public") 11 162 MOKAL INSTEUCTION; He did it for their? {"Good." Blackboard: "The public good".) And since he served the people's good, we will call him? {''A servant.") What would you call a man who does such a very brave act ? (" A hero.'') Do you suppose, then, that this story is true ? {A pause ; then the reply is " No ".) What sort of story have I been telling you? ("A legend.") Yes, and " legend " is another Latin word which you know ! These splendid old legends are worth telling. The illustrations in this lesson will proceed in a descending scale. The opening legend strikes a heroic, yet impossible note ; at the same time it portrays the civic spirit of ancient Rome in a character- istic and di'amatic manner. Ethically it gives the key to all that follows, though the remaining illustrations are drawn from reality. One may remark, in passing, that teachers who draw only from modern life and manners, deprive themselves of spirited and poetic aids from the traditions of the past. Do not think I am going to talk of heroes that never lived. In this country {sketch-map of India), something happened in the summer of 1910 which you shall presently hear. Imagine an Indian boy with olive complexion and white costume at work in a Bengal school. His teachers praise his work, for he is attentive and indus- trious. " Ganguli is a good scholar," they say. Now let me ask you about this boy Ganguli ; is he a servant of the public good ? (" Yes " ; " No " ; or perhaps doubt- ful silence.) You do not seem quite sure. Let me tell you more. He was allowed to attend Ripon College as a free student, and at college he laboured as hard as ever. After books were put aside for the day, he would go to pool or river and learn to swim. Tell me again ; is this college lad, who can swim, a servant of the public good ? {Same kind of replies as before.) You are not ITS THEOKY AND PEACTICE 163 sure yet. Let me tell you more. Ganguli left college in 1909 with " double honours," and^was made Assistant Superintendent of Telegraphs. It was his business to watch over the wires. Was he now a servant of the public good ? (" Yes.") Yes, no doubt he was. Well, one day news came to him that a storm had broken the wires. Perhaps, in his mind's eye (we all have mind's eyes), he could see some poor invalid wishing to telegraph for a doctor, but unable to do so ; or a dying parent wishing to telegraph to his or her son, but unable to do so. He must mend the wires. But the damage had taken place on the other side of a river ; the river wasjn full flood ; there was neither bridge nor boat, and what was Ganguli to do ? (" Stoim.") Oh, and could he swim? ("Yes.") Yes, we remember that he learned to swim at school. So the Assistant Superintendent plunged into the flood ; he battled with the strong current ... I wish I could finish the story differently. I am sorry to tell you Ganguli was drowned. He was 25 years of age, and he left a widow and a child. What did this Indian give up for the pubHc ? (" His life.") And what shall we call him? ("A hero.") And shall we name this story a legend? {"No.") The incident is recorded in the Calcutta " Modern Review," Sep- tember, 1910. It is specially useful to the imagination of British and other Western children, who are apt to picture heroism as European or American. Of course, in reply to the questions as to whether Ganguli served the public good at school, some intelligent childi'en are almost certain to affirm that a good pupil is a public ser- vant. This deserves a little argument in order to arrive at an agreement that education is a preparation for service in the civic We will now take a journey across the Atlantic 11* 164 MOKAL INSTEUCTION : {outline of Gulf of Mexico and West Indies) to these islands. You may happen to know of a fatal disease which has caused much trouble in the West Indies, a disease which turns the patient's skin yellow '? (" Yellow fever.") You may not know how it is caused. Indeed, the cause was not known till after 1890. It was found that a mosquito — the sort known as Stegomya — con- veyed the deadly poison when biting a human being. How, then, could yellow fever be stopped ? (" By kill- ing the mosquitoes.'') At what time of the mosquito's life? {" When it ivas little ") Yes, even when it was but an egg, or the larva that comes from the tiny egg. The mosquito lays its eggs in standstill water, in cis- terns, in ponds, in old bottles that lie about, in meat-tins, milk tins, tubs, flower-vases, open drains. What ought to be done? {"Glean all these things awaij.") Exactly. An English doctor, named Sir Eubert Boyce, was sent to the island of Antigua to help get rid of the insect pests. One day (so I imagine from a page I have read in his book) , he saw girls and boys rushing hither and thither along and across the roads, carrying things which they threw with a clatter in a heap. What mischief were these children doing ? He stops one ; he questions ; he hears the replies ; he smiles. This is excellent ! What had he found ? He had found that the school children of Antigua formed clubs, or guilds, called " Clean-up guilds," the members of which pledged themselves to remove empty milk-tins, sardine- tins, jam-pots, and other rubbish from the public roads and spaces. Such vessels collected rain-water and har- boured mosquitoes. The Clean-up Guilders piled the rubbish by the wayside, ready for the sanitary carts to ITS THEOKY AND PEACTICE 165 take away. The heart of Sir Rubert Boyce wais glad as he watched the Httle citizens at work, unpaid work for the State. Now, should we call these children heroes ? {"No.") No; they were servants of the public good; but their service was not heroic ; it was plain, simple, useful ; and where was it carried on ? (" In the street") Exactly. You and I can serve the public good in various ways, other ways besides clearing rubbish, of course, in the open road. {Blackboard ' " In the street:') Sir Rubert W. Boyce's " Health Progress and Administration in the West Indies " (1910), pp. 26-37. If time allows, the children may be asked to name such other services in public places as they can think of. We will keep our West Indian map on the blackboard, for we shall presently return to those beautiful islands. You may have seen a picture of the French kings of the early eighteenth century wearing large wigs and robed in silks. To the French king, Louis XV, the Mayor, or Burgomaster, of Amsterdam sent a gift of a plant in a pot, and the king handed the plant to Antoine Jussieu the botanist. The eyes of the stud- ent of plants gleamed with joy. This plant would be of great use to the public of the French West Indies. From its seeds would spring other plants, yielding wealth for the people of those colonies. But how to get the plant across the Atlantic? Jussieu happened to know of a young ensign who was about to sail to the West Indies, and he asked his soldier friend if he would take charge of the plant, watering it every day, and de- liver it with a letter to a botanist who would protect it. Yes, he would. The ship sailed. In the early eighteenth 166 MORAL INSTRUCTION : century, of course, ships were moved only by the wind and the stopping of the wind meant the stopping of the ship. This vessel was becalmed in the Atlantic, and fresh water was in danger of running short on board, and each man had a certain allowance and no more. The ensign was sorely tempted to drink all his water. But no ! he drank a small portion, and poured the rest upon the precious plant which was destined for the public good. And thus he did, day by day, till the breeze happily sprang up, and carried the ship to its port. Other members of the crew might have helped, but they dechned. The plant was the coffee plant, and some West Indian islands would one day be covered with the berry-bearing shrubs. Now, how did the ensign serve the public good? {''By going ivithout tvater.") A very simple action indeed, not to be called heroism, and yet it was fine of him to do it. (Blackboard : "By going ivithout") The incident is told in Arthur Mangin's "Savants illustres de France," pp. 1-23. The date was 1720, and the island was Martin- i(|ue. Lastly, I will speak to you of a yet simpler way of service. With what do I at this moment speak to you ? (" Yoicr voice.") We each possess a voice that may be used for service. For instance, I remember that a band of children amused their friends by acting and singing — as kings, queens, knights, robbers, fairies — in an operetta. One of them said, "Let us perform the operetta for the people at the workhouse ". The poor folk at the work- house listened with great joy to the voices of the girls and boys singing solos and choruses in their pretty drama. Once, in this country {map of Norway and Sweden, ITS THEOKY AND PEACTICE 167 with Denmark), was born a girl who grew up to be so charming a singer that she reminded people of the night- ingale. Hence she earned the name of the Swedish Nightingale. Crowds flocked to theatres and concert halls to hear her sing, and her magical voice seemed to waft their souls to cloudland, dreamland, and fairyland. She once visited Copenhagen, the capital city of Den- mark. One day she heard that a society for assisting children was short of funds. The children whom the society helped were, alas ! ill-treated, were ill-fed, ill-clad, and so on. When the Swedish Nightingale learned how low the funds were, she offered to do her part towards bringing in money. What could she do to serve the public ? For are not children part of the public ? She had a voice. She would serve by singing. And she declared that whoever came to this concert for the children's sake must pay double. The Copenhagen citizens willingly paid double to hear the songs of — shall I say her true name ? — Jenny Lind. The profit on the concert was huge. A pile of money had to be counted. The society had funds which would last a good while to come. When she learned of this success the face of Jenny Lind glowed with pleasure, and the tears moistened her cheeks. Why did she cry ? (" For joy.") Joy at what? (''Being able to help the children.") And she said, " It is beautiful that I can sing so ". Did she say she could sing beautifully? {''No.") If she had done so, what would you have thought ? (" That she loas vain.") She was not vain. What was beautiful ? {"Helping the children.'") What with? {"Her voice.") And we all have a voice to use in some way or other. {Blackboard : " Voice.") 168 MOEAL IN8TRUCTI0N : The anecdote is narrated by Haus Christian Andersen, in his " Story of my life," English translation published in 1852, pp. 100, 101. I may be pardoned for adding that this lesson on Service, simple in structure and in illustrations, has always appeared to give pleasure to girls and boys alike. VII. HUMBLE MATERIAL. In the quiet of a dense forest, here {mcvp of India in rapid outline), a holy Indian hermit sat. The old legend says, indeed, that he had sat among the trees, brooding, that is, thinking deeply, over heavenly and Divine things, for so long as 700 years ! It may be assumed that, after hearing a number of lessons in which legends are employed, the children will^ without formal re- ference, interpret the smile (not sarcastic but genial) of the teacher as sufficient caution that the story is not to be literally accepted. It would be pedantic to offer a precise caution every time. While he thus brooded, or meditated, a spirit of the air rode by, seated on a tiger. The tiger, however, would not pass over the head of the saint. It stopped, hanging in the air. The spirit of the air glanced down, and saw a thin-bodied hermit, or Yogi, clad in a very mean waist-cloth, and holding a rosary of lotus-seeds and beads made from basil stalks — very cheap beads. In a bazaar or shop, such cloth, etc., would be called cheap material. {Blackboard: ''Material.'') But I do not want to use a word that merely makes us think of prices, so give me some other. {Various replies; finally arrive at the phrase " Humble material ".) The air- spirit ahghted off the tiger's back, and offered the hermit a beautiful garment, "In place," he said, "of the rub- bishy rag thou wearest ". But the Yogi, or saint, had no need of such gifts ; for out of his own noble power, ITS THEOEY AND PKACTICE 169 he turned the rag that he wore into a very splendid rohe ; and the air-spirit bowed in reverence before the man who could work such . . . {" Wo7iclers " .) What shall we call a man who can work wonders? {"A wonder-worker.") And what did he work with ? (" Humble material^) Then we will have two columns on our blackboard, one for wonder-workers, and the other for the material they work with ; and we will now set down our first example. {Blackboard: "Saint" . . . "Bag".) From A. Govindacharya's "Lives of the Azhvars," published at Mysore, 1902, p. 100. There is a sequel to this legend, but it will be reserved till the close of the lesson. See section in Part I. on "Class Methods and Lesson Construction ". We will travel to Spain (map) and visit the city of Seville, and suppose ourselves to be at a convent of Capuchin monks in the seventeenth century. A very famous oil-painter, named Murillo, was at' work painting pictures on canvas for the Capuchin monks. He worked there some time, and during that period he formed a friend- ship with the cook. As Murillo was preparing to leave the convent the cook said to him, " Will you not, before 5^ou go, give me a trifling keepsake of your pencil ? " That is to say, he wished Murillo to draw and paint a little picture for him, " Well," said the Spanish painter, " I have no canvas left." At this the cook ran and fetched a serviette, or linen napkin. Now you know that a serviette has a very humble use at our meals. But Murillo made no objection to the material. He retired to a quiet room and worked all day long, and in the evening he presented the cook with a painting which is still preserved in Spain, and admired by all 170 MOKAL INSTKUCTION : who see it. People call it " la virgen de la servilleta," " The Virgin of the Serviette ". The holy child Jesus is held in the Mother's arms, and a very glorious golden light floats over the figures of Mother and Son. We have now a second example. {Blackboard : " Painter " . . . "Serviette".) The story is given by Stirling, in his " Annals of the Artists of Spain/' vol. II. pp. 760, 751. We will return to India. You know what river runs over the plain of Hindustan into the Bay of Bengal, (" The Ganges.") You know that the land about its many mouths is very low and marshy. This is espec- ially the case in Eastern Bengal. For many years people said, " These marshes are waste land ; they are useless ". So they were till the wonder-workers came ; and these men were not high-caste men either. They were, indeed, outcast men ; men whom many Hindus despised, and who were left to do hard and dirty work. It was these Chandalas, or outcasts, who worked the wonder ; and what with, do you think ? They did two things. They cut canals from big rivers up which the tide runs to the marshes, and the tide, laden with mud, silted up the mud in the channels made by the Chanda- las. Little by little the layers of mud {sketch layers) were piled into solid, dry soil. And besides this, they gathered bundles of weed that grew in the marshes, and wove it into rough mats and heaped these mats one upon the other day by day, month by month, till the mats, surrounded and clogged with mud and sand, finally made firm, dry ground. And to-day, where once the waste land lay, all miry and damp, houses stand secure, and trees grow and people till their fields. The Chandalas of Bengal ITS THEOKY AND PKACTICE 171 deserve from us a respectful salute. {Blackboard : *'Ghanddlas" . . . "Mud"). I have used the illustration, in a slightly diflferent form, in a lesson on " Industry," in " Youth's Noble Path," pp. 268, 269. The original source is R. C. Dutt's "Civilization in Ancient India," vol. II. p. 89, note. Perhaps we might even say that the poor outcasts were painters. Murillo painted a picture on canvas. The Chandalas made their picture in a new landscape, created by the labour of their faithful hands. In the far north of Scotland the little town of Thurso looks out on the restless sea. Here, one day, two gentle- men strolled along the street till they halted at a small baker's shop. There was a bakehouse attached, a low- roofed building where the loaves were kneaded by Robert Dick's busy hands, and baked in his ovens. The two visitors, Sir Roderick Murchison and Mr. C. W. Peach, had not come to buy bread. They had come to talk with the baker about the rocks, stones, sand, clay, etc., of the Scottish county (Caithness) in which Mr. Dick had lived for many years. For Murchison and Peach and Dick all loved to study the substances of the earth, and such students are called ? ("Geologists") Dick the baker was a clever geologist, and the two visitors were glad of the opportunity of conversing with him. They entered, and told their wish. The baker's face lighted up with pleasure. He would tell what they wanted. He could not, of course, take them round the country. Nor had he a map. But he could make one ! What with ? What material was most likely to be found in a baker's shop ? {"Flour.") Mr. Dick spread out flour on a board, and made it flat in one place for the plains, and higher in 172 MORAL INSTRUCTION : another for ? (" Hills "), and higher yet for ? (" Moun- tains".) "Here, gentlemen," he said eagerly, "here is the sandstone ; and here the limestone ; and here are rocks of granite; and here are found fossil fish, fossil shells," and so on. And the time rolled by, and the two visitors were like scholars learning from a teacher, and the teacher was a baker whose hands and clothes were dusty with flour. Fine teacher ! Wonderful les- son in the story of the earth ! (Blackboard : "Baker- geologist" . . . "Flour".) H. A, Page's " Leaders of Men," pp. 94, 95. The geological de- tails must only be lightly indicated. If a visitor were to enter our classroom, and look at our blackboard, he would be surprised to see this strange list on our board. Read it. {Children read, perhaps loith smiles, " Bag ; serviette ; mud ; flour ".) Yes, but you and I know the secret. We have seen the wonder- workers change this humble stuff into very interesting things and shapes ! Could a child be a wonder-worker ? {Beply probably " Yes".) We must prove it ! The proof will be Wilhe Hunter, a five j^ear old Scot. His family were Glasgow people. Willie had a small piece of waste ground given him for a garden. Only docks and thistles grew on it. The boy worked like a little giant, if giants can be little ! For several hours daily he fetched earth from a distance in a toy wheel-barrow, and heaped it up to make garden-soil. The family laughed, and called it " Willie's grave ! " No matter ; he toiled on ; he sowed seeds ; he watched the flowers rise, and in the summer his plot of garden was bright with blossoms, and the air was filled with perfume. In after years this young gardener was ITS THEOKY AND PKACTICE 173 known as Sir William W. Hunter, and as a servant of the State in India. {Blackboard: ''Small boy" . . . " Waste ground ".) F. H. Skrine's "Life of Sir W. W. Hunter," (1901), p. 5. You may have seen the picture of Mrs. Elizabeth Fry in Nev^rgate Prison, London. She is a lady with a frank, motherly face. She sits at a table in a chamber in the prison, a Bible spread open for reading aloud. Women prisoners stand around, laughing scornfully, shaking fists, and looking as if at an enemy. This happened in the winter of 1816-17. But this good Quakeress, helped by other Quakers and by Churchwomen, would not let go of her task. She meant to win the respect and love of the Newgate women. After a while the place was changed. Mrs. Fry's visits were received with pleasure. She was counted a dear friend, and the women listened to her gentle counsels with quietness and in affection. This loving woman had worked a 'wonder in the hearts of these sad prisoners. (Blackboard : " Woman . . . " Prisoners ".) Such an incident must be very lightly, though tenderly, treated. No attempt should be made to depict deep changes in the prison- ers' natures. It would be better to omit the story than to ela- borate it. Perhaps, too, as I look at you, ... I see girls and boys who will be wonder-workers. . . . On no account should this serious remark be made unless the atmosphere of the class appears to render the children receptive. And not a word should be added. You will like to hear the end of the tale of the Yogi in the Indian jungle. We left him shining in his splendid 174 MOKAL INSTRUCTION: robe. The air-spirit offered yet another gift. He held out to the saint a rosary of bright, poHshed berries ; a far better rosary than the hermit's. Then the hermit said, " Why should I take your rosary ? Have I not a beau- tiful one of my own ? " The legend tells that he had changed his poor beads of lotus-seed and basil-stalk into nine gems that flashed in the light. The air-spirit "offered no more. He knelt before the saint, and rose up and mounted his tiger, and fled away, VIII. LOSS AND GAIN. Critics have occasionally, after hearing me deliver this lesson, objected that the terms "loss and gain " imply too cold a calcula- tion. It may be so, though the usage is sanctioned in such familiar texts as "What shall it profit a man, if he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul ? " I have failed to find any substitute simple enough for a child's comprehension. The teacher's sincerity should lend the tone of purity to the idea of " loss " and " gain ". An American girl had two apples, one being sound and rosy, the other having a bad side to it, and a fair and rosy side. She had a companion with her, and what would you expect her to do ? (" Give an apple to her friend.") But which apple would she give her friend ? (Smiles ; and various replies according to the children s temperaments.) What she did was this : she gave the worse apple to her friend, presenting it in such a way that the companion saw at first only the pretty side. The two girls then ate. But . . . but ... as the first girl ate she kept looking at her companion, and wondering what she would think of the giver when the bad side was reached. The giver felt very uncom- fortable. "Never again," said she to herself, "will I give the worse apple to a companion ; I will eat it my- ITS THEOKY AND PKACTICE 175 self." Very well, and no doubt she carried out her re- solve. Suppose, then, that we see her again with two apples, and this time she gives away the better apple. She loses what she might have kept. But is she willing to lose it? {"Yes.") Wilhng to lose! But when she lost the better apple, did she gain anything? ("The pleasure of giving the better apple to a friend.") There was gain as well as loss. {Blackboard heading ; " Will- ing to lose " ajid " Gain " ; tinder " Lose " write " Better apple " ; under " Gain " tvrite " The pleasure," etc.) Prof. Dewey cites this simple but instructive example in a paper in the "Popular Science Monthly," vol. XLV. p. 436. The noble camel-driver of Arabia, who became the prophet Mohammed, gave his life to teaching the people. It was his joy to tell them of the greatness of Allah (God), and of the way of the Good Life by prayer and almsgiving and justice and temperance. He would collect the Arabs about him, and preach to them. For ease and for riches he had no care. Once he slept on a hard fibre mat, and when he arose his skin was marked by the knots of his hard couch. A friend said to him, " Messenger of God ! this was too hard a bed for you ; and, if you had so ordered, I would gladly have spread a soft couch for you to rest on". The prophet answered : "A soft bed is not for me, I have work to do in the world. I take rest when the body demands rest, but only so that I may rise and pass on to my work, not for idle comfort." What then did the prophet lose by sleeping on a hard bed ? (" Comfort!') And what did he gain? {Various rep>lies ; choose such as express the idea of " The happiness of doing good to the people") 176 MOKAL INSTEUCTION : From "The Sayings of Mohammed," by Abdullah al-Mamun, pp. 90, 91. Some difficulty may be experienced in eliciting such a reply as that above given ; but it is worth while exercising the children's minds till the idea is substantially seized. You may know what place this is on the west side of the United States {rough map, showiiig California). Do you know what it was that caused crowds of men to rush to CaHf ornia, from all quarters, in the year 1848 ? {"Gold had been foimd.") Gold had been found in the gravel of brooks, in ravmes, and gulchs, and men were eagerly washing gravel in iron pans, in search of grains or nuggets of the precious metal. One day a wretched and tired lad, aged 16, wandered into the miners' camp, and sat on a bank and watched the men in the ravine. Thirty strong miners were at work, jolly and hopeful. The boy was silent ; his looks told of hunger and despair. Presently, one of the miners said, "Boys, I'll work an hour for that chap, if you will ". What did he mean ? (" He loould give him the gold he found in the hour'') They agreed. At the end of an hour a hundred dollars' worth of gold dust was laid in the lad's handkerchief. The miners made out a list of tools and other things he needed. " Go," said they, " and buy these things at the store, and then come back. We will have a piece of ^ground staked out (fenced) for you. Then you have got to paddle for your- self." What did they mean? {''He must loork for himself".) Such was the good natute of the miners. What were they willing to lose ? (" Gold.") And what do you think they gained ? (" The happiness of seeing the lad at loorh in comfort" etc.) More losses, more gains ! {Blackboard : " Gold " . . . " Happiness of helping lad") ITS THEOEY AND PRACTICE 177 The story is given in C. H. Shiau's "Mining Camps," p. 111. If we only look at the first column of writing on our blackboard, how strange it appears ! People were will- ing to lose — the better apple ; comfort ; and gold ! Let us see if there are more willing losers. The well-known English man of science, Sir John Lubbock (Lord Avebury), visited Switzerland. You know that country is a land of mountains and of lakes. Lord Avebury was eager to examine something very curious which was to be found on the shores of some of the lakes. I wonder if you have heard that, in olden times, the folk of that land drove piles, that is, thick tree trunks, into the bed of a lake, and on these built platforms, and on the platforms huts ; and thus the huts were over the water, and the water protected the lake- dwellers from enemies. To-day the black piles are sometimes dug up and laid bare ; and in the surround- ing soil are found axes, arrows, knives, beads, etc. , which once belonged to the lake-dwellers. Where are you likely to see such objects collected? ("In, museums.'') Lord Avebury had a guide to show him these interest- ing objects — a friend of his named M. Morlot. He was surprised to hear that M. Morlot had an income of only £100 a year from the Government. Part of this in- come M. Morlot spent in making a small museum, for the instruction of the people. "Why do you not," asked Lord Avebury, " apply for a Government post where you could earn a larger income?" " Because," said the Swiss gentleman, " I can work here at the science which I love, and which I can teach to the people through my museum. This study gives me much pleasure, and I would not waste my time making money." 12 178 MORAL INSTBUCTION: Not waste his time ! What was he willing to lose ? (" Income.") Yes, since he might easily have gained more income. And what did he gain ? {After discus- sing various replies, tvrite " Incoine " . . . " Pleasures of science,'' " Pleasure of teaching the people".) Told in the "Popular Science Monthly/' vol. XXX. p. 335. Some little trouble should be taken to portray the interest inherent in the archaeological research. Our list of things willingly lost is still stranger — the better apple ; comfort ; gold ; income ! I will tell you an Indian legend. There was once a king named Eantideva, and he gave up his throne and became a hermit of the forest. He and his family lived on very simple, frugal fare. Once he had fasted for forty-eight days, and he was about to break his fast with a meal of rice, a little milk, and some sugar. Just as he was on the point of eating, a Brahman — a high- caste man — passed that way, and begged for food, and to him Eantideva gave half his meal. Next there came a man of lower caste, a Sudra, and to him, when he begged, the hermit also gave a portion. Next a dog came, and barked, and the bark of this poor creature was a plea for food ; and to the dog was given the rest of the rice. Lastly, a Chandala, or outcast man, appeared, and he received the milk and the sugar, and Eantideva had nothing left for himself. What was he willing to lose ? (" Food.") Food that he badly needed. I recall how, at Philadelphia, an American critic reproached me for telling children so foolish a story. (From " Aryan Anecdotes," by R. S. Pantayaji.) He considered it an extravagant representa- tion of self-denial. So it is, if measured by a Western standard; but it is an Oriental story, and should be interpreted in the ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 179 Oriental spirit. Children are quite capable of making the re- quisite allowances. The tale is not ended. The hermit saw four shining and beautiful Gods stand before him, and he gazed upon them with reverence and delight. And they said to him : " It was to us, Rantideva, that you gave food, when we came to you in the shapes of the Brahman, the Sudra, the dog, and the Chandala. You were kind to all, and we praise you for your loving spirit." The eyes of Rantideva were fixed upon the Shining Ones with happiness. You will perhaps think of a word that describes a thing seen by keen eyes — a thing unseen by other eyes ; a thing seen, as it were, in a dream ? {''A vision.") What kind of vision was this? {''A beautiful vision,'' " A vision of beaut jj ".) He had been willing to lose ? {''Food.") He gained? {"A vision of beauty.") Let the story suffice. It adds an imaginative element which will assist (if assistance is needed) in obviating the suspicion of a cal- culating ethics above alluded to. There is no call to rationalize the legend. The lesson might close at this point. Usually, however, I have added the following. Sad as the story is, it is ennobled by the element of self-sacrifice. In the State of Mysore (map of India) a river was in flood in the summer of 1909. A large dam across the river had been broken by the flood, and an English engin- eer, Captain Nicholas Dawes, R.E. (Royal Engineers), had gone out with a raft and boats to mend the breach. An accident occurred to the boats and raft ; the captain and ten Hindu cooHes were flung into the raging stream. The men swam towards an island. Captain Dawes, 12* 180 MOEAL INSTRUCTION : while swimming, glanced this way and that to see if the coolies were gaining the shore in safety. One Indian, however, was being swept down the river towards fehe breach in the dam. The Captain swam out to help him. I cannot finish the story as I would hke. Captain Dawes was carried through the breach, dashed against a rock, and drowned. The Indian, though bruised, was washed ashore, alive. The body of Captain Dawes was recovered three days later. Did he know it was a risk to swim towards the coolie ? (" Yes.") Was he willing to take the risk? {"Yes.") And to lose if need be? Q' His life.") But in the moment of risk and danger, what did he gain? (" The thought that he was saving a fellow-creature's life.") The question must be put in some such form as that just sug- gested ; otherwise, to a superficial view, nothing is evident but the loss of his life. The incident is taken from contemporary news- papers. There is more to tell. About a year afterwards, at Marlborough House in London, a number of persons were presented to King George in order to receive medals for gallantry in saving life, or "attempting to save life ". There was a medal for Captain Dawes, but he was, as you have heard, dead. A lady came in his stead. You will perhaps guess who it was? {"His loife.") And Mrs. Dawes received the medal which was bestowed on her husband for attempting to rescue a coolie from drown- ing. What had Mrs. Dawes lost? ("A husba?id.") What had England and India lost? ("A good officer.") And now may I ask you a rather hard question ? Can you think of something that you and I, and India, and ITS THEOEY AND PEACTICE 181 England, have gained through Captain Dawes? {"A noble example.") IX. SELF. The object of this lesson is to invest the idea of the Self with honour and dignity, and to display its many-sidedness, or rather, to hint at its many-sidedness, and, at the same time, to intimate its rightful subordination to the Larger Self of society. A rough, seamy-faced, raw-boned young man walked about Oxford in the winter season with his shoes worn out. Snow lay on the towers of old colleges, and in the quadrangles that, in summer, looked so green. He was a student and hard worker at books, but he was poor. Somebody noticed it ; and this Somebody secretly placed a new pair of shoes outside the student's door. The raw-boned student, coming out, caught sight of them, examined them, guessed why they were put there, opened the window of his chamber, and pitched the shoes out into the road. " Wet feet, mud, frost, hunger, or what you will ; but not beggary, we cannot stand beggary," so Samuel Johnson seemed to say to himself. Now, in this action, was he thinking of what thanks he owed to the kind giver of the shoes? ("No.") Of whom did he think? ("0/ liimself.") Of himself! Had he wrong thoughts of himself ? {Pause. Perhaps the answer, "No.") Did he think he had been treated badly ? (" No.") What, then, was the matter ? (" He ivished to get shoes for himself, or not at all.") I wonder if you can say what is that feeling which makes a man refuse gifts, if they take away his pride in himself? {"Self-respect" : blackboard.) The teacher may have to supply the phrase "Self-respect" bimtielf. This will not matter. The eflfort to arrive at the phrase, 182 MOKAL INSTKUCTION : or idea, even though unsuccessful, will have the better enabled the children to comprehend this somewhat complex subject. The anecdote of Dr. Johnson is partly given in Carlyle's own words, "On Heroes," lecture V. On a road in Wiltshire Isaac the shepherd met his big, burly friend, Jarvis the village blacksmith. Jarvis was a jolly man except when he had drunk too much alcoholic liquor. He was in that state now. With- out any reason he wished to quarrel with Isaac. Off went his hat, his coat, his waistcoat. " I'll fight you," he bawled. Isaac said quietly, "I don't want to fight you". Jarvis's challenge had not upset Isaac's temper. He took things steadily. He was a strong man, and he was not fussy and noisy. If his anger began to rise, he kept it down. Now, what did Isaac the shepherd do with his strong, manly Self? {''He controlled it.") We shall say, then, that he exercised ? (" Self -control") Another good thing, which we will place beside Sell-respect. {Blackboard : " Self-control ".) " I don't want to fight you," he said, " but I think it would be better to take you home." He seized the blacksmith round the waist with one arm, seized his legs with the other arm, and carried him on his shoulder to the blacksmith's cottage. At the door Jarvis's wife waited anxiously. " Here is your man," said the shep- herd, setting his friend down ; and he went home to tea. A strong man, you see, who did not bluster. From Professor W. H. Hudson's " A Shepherd's Life," pp. 78, 70. In passing, I may take occasion to recommend the humane spirit and sympathy with nature manifested in all Mr. Hudson's works. ITS THEOKY AND PKACTICE 183 A young Mohammedan was a student, and was most diligent in following his books. He was, like Dr. John- son, poor, and one night went to sleep in his study. His lamp had gone out for lack of oil. In a vision there appeared unto him the God of Learning. " Young man," said the divine being, " I can, if you wish, con- vey to you in a few moments, all the knowledge of the world. I can do it by breathing into your ears and upon your lips." The student rejflected. Would he care to save himself all the labour of learning ? Would he take a short cut to knowledge ? No, he thought it would be mean and idle. He would rather trust to himself, or, as we sometimes say? {" Bely upon himself") ; and this honourable pride we will call ? (" Self-reliance " ; blackboard.) He did ask for one gift, and obtained it. He asked for a supply of midnight oil. From a book of addresses by the Vedautic teacher, " Swami Ram Tirath " (1909), p. 13. This Self seems to be a fine thing. It deserves our respect ; it can control itself when it is strong ; it can rely upon its own power and character. A friend of mine, in the town of Leicester, was a school manager, and he often visited the school to watch the children at their work, and inquire how they were getting on. He saw two sisters wearing black dresses for mourning. Their father had died. They and their mother were left poor and struggling. The mother went out to do washing part of her time, and part of her time she worked at a printer's shop, sorting cards. Mr. M. gave a lady 2s. 6d. to hand to this hard-working widow ; but she could hand her a portion at a time. So the lady offered the widow a Is. The widow shook her head, 184 MOEAL INSTEUCTION: and pointed to a house down the narrow court where she lived. " Take it," she said, " to Mrs. X. ; she is worse off than I am." Had the widow a Self ? (" Yes.") A noble one. How did she treat her Self ? (' ' She denied herself.") So, then, here is something else which can be done to this wonderful Self. [Blackboard: " Self- defiial.") The very simplicity of this anecdote reminds us of the fertile field of action lying at our very doors, and which, carefully observed, would yield innumerable instances for the use of the teacher. We will follow this Self to Paris. In the year 1897 a very dreadful event happened in that city. A bazaar in aid of some charity was held in a building, the wooden roof of which had been coated with pitch. Many ladies presided at the stalls where glittering and interesting objects were piled up for sale ; and crowds of fashion- able Parisians, mostly women, walked, talked, bought, and listened to music. One of the chief ladies who car- ried on the bazaar was the Dnchesse d'Alen9on. All of a sudden an alarm of " Fire ! " was raised. The roof was in flames, and the melted pitch dropped upon the shrieking people below. A rush was made for the doors. Well would it have been if the Self-control, of which we have spoken, had been exercised by the men and women who were threatened with a terrible danger. They would then have passed out, hurriedly and anxiously, but in a more orderly manner, instead of trampling upon one another in their fear. The Duchesse was urged to go out. No ; she was one of the chief leaders of the bazaar. She behaved as the captain of a ship would behave. He would stay till last on the sinking vessel. The Duchesse said ; " Let the others go out first ". The ITS THEOKY AND PKACTICE 185 fire spread. The Duchesse sank upon her knees, as terrified women crowded at the door. The last woman who escaped happened to look back. The Duchesse was kneeling, with joined hands, quietly awaiting death. From an obituary notice of the Due d'Alengon, who died in 1910, and who never recovered from the shock of his wife's heroic death. He repeatedly and proudly spoke of her in conversations with friends. What shall we call this ? (" Self-denial.''') Yes, we may call it so. But we gave that name to the good deed of the Leicester widow, when she preferred her poorer neighbour to have the shilling which was offered to her- self. We must 6nd a stronger word. (" Self-sacrifice " ; hlaclcboard.) The Self which we began by respecting, and controlling, and relying upon, is now suffering ; it is denied ; it is sacrificed ; and how noble was the denial ; and how noble was the sacrifice ! This Self is wonder- ful. What splendid secrets there are in it. How won- derful to see these secrets unfold to the light ! (Say this slowly, icith x>erhaps a significant gesture of the hands to indicate unfolding.) It should be remembered that the theme of the lesson is not Self-sacrifice, etc. ; nor Self-respect, etc. , but the capacity of the Self for power and service. The theme is really Self-development, but such a term is scarcely suitable for younger scholars. In order to emphasize the idea of Unfolding I introduce the following story, suggesting that this Self, so strikingly capable of coutrol, sacrifice, etc., is worth all the laborious process of development. Thus the lesson conveys to the child, in a simple and concrete mode, that thought of Self-development which should occupy so important a place in the aims of the educator. A Httle girl, aged 5, laughed to herself gleefully as she turned the key on the outside of a pantry-door. By 186 MOEAL INSTRUCTION : so doing she had locked her mother in ! For three hours the mother had to wait, though she occasionally called out, and pounded at the door. The servants were in a distant part of the house, and could not hear. What sort of a girl would you call this young person ? {'' Naughty," etc.) Would you ? (Pause.) Well, she could not hear her mother's voice ; she could not see the servants who at last came to the rescue ; she could not even speak to either servants or mother, or to any soul on earth . . . (Silent surprise.) The fact was, little Helen was blind, deaf, and dumb. She had been born in the United States in 1880. At the age of 19 months she suffered from fever, and ever afterwards she had neither sight, hearing, nor power of speech. But when she locked her mother in she could feel the vibra- tion of the door when it was knocked by the prisoner in the pantry ! Another piece of mischief she did. Helen's parents brought a teacher, Miss Sullivan, to the house specially for Helen ; and at first the girl greatly objected to being taught and ruled, even in love. So one day she locked Miss Sullivan into her room, and hid the key under a wardrobe in the hall ; and no persuasion could draw from Helen the secret of the key. Her father had to release Miss Sulhvan by fetching a ladder and placing it at the room window ; and, much to Helen's delight, the teacher had to cHmb down the ladder. Nor did she reveal the hiding-place of the key till months after- wards. Here, then, was a Self that wanted to show its power, but which showed it in a very troublesome and tiresome manner. Poor little Self ! what time and XDatience were needed before Helen Keller's wonderful Self could be tcnfolded. Little by little, Miss SuHivan S THEOEY AND PEACTICE 187 taught Helen Keller to be clean, to be orderly, to b e well-mannered towards other people, to read, to write, to speak — yes, really to speak with the voice, though, of course, the spoken speech of persons who do not hear their own voices can never be as sweet and clear as that of ordinary people. Miss Keller could at length use the type-writer, and she even composed books of her own ideas. She wrote a most charming story of herself — her wonderful Self — from which I have taken the little tales just told ; and she wrote it for the instruction of the world. She made a poem of the " Stone Wall," which was published in 1910. There is a photograph of her in that book, and you see her standing by a low fence of stone, touching it vdth her hand ; and her poem sings a song of the brave workers who built that wall and other walls ; of pioneers in new lands and new tasks ; of brave citizens; of patriots serving their fatherland. And in the summer of 1912 the newspapers told how Miss KeUer was interested in the public affairs, the politics, 'of the United States. She herself was a citizen, a blind, deaf, and dumb citizen, with a noble heart, serving the land of which she was a daughter, serving humanity by her word and work. Her Self was still Unfolding, and America was proud of her. See the " Story of My Life ", pp. 13, 14 ; and the " Song of the Stone Wall ". The incidents are briefly narrated in the lesson ; but it would give great profit and pleasure to the children if the teacher promised, on another occasion, to read portions of the "Story," or relate more of Helen's biography. X. CHARACTER. This lesson is another presentation of the same general theme of the Self, with the accent on the note of personal influence. The 188 MOKAL INSTEUCTION: possible variations on the theme are indeed endless ; and the teacher will, in this field, find scope for all his inventiveness, reflection, and power of appeal. You know this island on my map (" Ceylon"). Dr. Monciire Conway was travelling here in 1883, and he was taken to see an enormous creature with a shell on its back {sketch of turtle), 6 feet long, 4 or 5 feet wide. It Hved in a large field. "Lived," did I say? . . . " lived ? " . . . well, you will judge for yourselves pres- ently. If you flourished a stick before it the head was never drawn in. It did not see the stick. It was blind. When it was thirsty it bellowed like a bull. In its shell, there was a hole three inches in diameter, into which its keeper thrust a stick whenever he wished to make it move ! It was more than a hundred years old. An old Cingalese man told Dr. Conway that when he was a boy the turtle looked nearly the same size. And the old man was about 90 years of age. When the turtle wanted water it did show a sign of life. It gave a sort of muffled roar, and the keeper — not at all in a hurry ! — carried water to the sleepy reptile. Dr. Conway's " My Pilgrimage to the Wise Men of the East," p. 170. The children listen with an amused smile, rather wondering why the turtle is introduced. Did the turtle "live"? ("Yes"; "hut not very much " I) Did it learn anything? (" No.") Did it im- prove ? Did it make progress ? Did it help anybody ? serve anybody? ("No.") Something was missing. There wasn't that " go," that activity in it which you and I like to feel. There was no ? (" Energy "). The term Character may or may not emerge. It is of no conse- ITS THEOKY AND PEACTICE 189 queuce. Indeed, one might give a useful leeaon on Character with- out employing the term at all. Suppose I recall to your memory a person who was very different from our friend the turtle. It is the figure of a man whose workshop stood under a tree. His eyes, his lip, his hand, his arm, his firm foot, his steady breathing — all tell of a heart, a mind, a man. His hammer rings on the iron anvil . . . (" The village blacksmith ! ") One of you can repeat the first verse of the poem ? (Child repeats) : — Under a spreading chestnut tree The village smithy stands : The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands ; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands. And you recollect the children watching the sparks ; the church on Sunday ; his daughter in the choir ; the dead wife ; and one of you may be able to describe his day, morning and evening ? {Child repeats) : — Toiling — rejoicing — sorrowing, Onward through life he goes ; Each morning sees some task begun. Each evening sees its close ; Something attempted, something done. Has earned a night's repose. A man such as this, with his spirit, his energy, his honest work, is a man of ? (" Character.'') One could not find a more vigorous type, comprehensible by children, of character in the simple, direct, everyday sense. Merely to run through the poem (and this cursory glance is all that is here suggested) is a stimulus which offers an eloquent contrast to the apathy of the turtle. It is the idea of stimulus that one should 190 MOKAL INSTKUCTION : sustain through the lesson. The teacher's gestures, restrained but significant, will assist. There is a river in China, a branch of the Canton Kiver, which goes by a curious name. Suppose you very much longed for a comrade's book, or sunshade, or cricket-bat, etc. ; something v/hich was quite out of your power to get in any proper way ; we should say you were? (^'Covetous.") That is the name, "the Covetous Eiver ". People in that district used to think that whoever drank of the water of that river would become covetous ! Even if they drew water from it only for cooking purposes, the same unpleasant thing would happen ; they would covet their neighbour's goods. So people avoided drinking the water, or drawing it. Did they do right ? This is a little touch of casuistry which will profitably amuse. Certainly, if such was their conception of the effect, the people did right. But they need not have had the conception ! There was a wise governor, named Kien Wan, who knew this idea was mistaken. The teacher should speak warily. It is easy to talk patronizingly of the people's "foolish " belief ; but such missiles fly farther than the thrower may intend I Kien Wan went in solemn procession to the river. In the presence of the people he drank large draughts from the Covetous stream, and then returned home. The people watched him for weeks and months and years afterwards ; nor did it ever appear that he was envious and greedy of the things which belonged to his neigh- bours. Anybody with sense could now see that the ITS THEOKY AND PEACTICE 191 honest character was not hurt by this thing outside, this water. The good character was a Power Within. Archdeacon Gray's "China", vol. II., p. 319. The phrase "Power Within" is placed here tentatively. There are various equivalents. The teacher should beware of attaching undue importance to this or that phrase. I have just spoken of China and the Chinese. You know those famous islands opposite China ? (" Japan.") A gentleman visited a house where the children were holding a Dolls' Festival. The dolls were dressed up in the ancient court costumes such as were worn many years ago in Japan. You can see them in pictures. The girls who kept the festival showed great earnestness in giving the dolls food, and putting them to bed ; and they gave each doll a name; and they assured the visitor that if not attended to the dolls would cry ! And, little by little, if you treated a doll rightly, it would grow a soul, and would live. The visitor asked a girl, " How can a doll live ? " " Why," she said, " if you love it enough, it will live ! " Well, you and I will not stop to ask whether a doll could live — And assuredly only a foolish teacher would characterize the belief as "foolish " ! But I think it was quite a beautiful idea that you could make a doll live and breathe {pause as if breath- ing upon an invisible doll). I wonder if you know the word which means to " breathe life into ". (" Inspire.'') Inspire ; a really splendid word. How do people use it ? {Variety of replies.) This is wonderful, this power to inspire. Could the turtle inspire anybody ? {Smiles.) 192 MOEAL INSTEUCTION: Could the blacksmith? {''Yes") Whom? {''The children" ; "the poet,'' etc.) Yes, the poet Long- fellow, — Thanks^ thanks to thee, my worthy friend, For the lesson thou hast taught ! You will not, of course, imagine that only black- smiths can inspire ; or only fellows with brawny arms ! Listen. In the castle at the top of this hill {rough sketch) lived the lady Elizabeth. She had a kind heart that never forgot the needs of the poor folk in this town {one or two strokes) at the bottom of the hill. One day as she went down the hill richly clad, and wearing a coronet, she met a crowd of needy people who asked help, and she distributed to them all the money she had with her. If I had time to tell you her history, you would know she acted out of true goodwill, not in any vain show. A person came last for whom she had nothing left. Then Elizabeth took off one of her jewelled gloves and gave it to him. A young knight was watching ; on his coat was woven a red cross ; he was, as perhaps you guess? {" A crusader.") He went to the beggar, bought the glove from him for a handful of money, and attached it to the crest of his helmet. The old legend says that he did great deeds of war in the Holy Land, and in knightly tournaments ; and always he wore Eliza- beth's glove. He returned home, fell ill, and lay dying ; and he talked of his exploits. " Whatever fight I fought well," he said, " was due to the dear lady Elizabeth." What sort of character had this lady ? (" Fme " ; "noble".) And what sort of deeds did the knight do >* ITS THEORY AND PRACTICE 193 at any rate, according to the ideas of those times? (" Fine " ; " nohUr) Then I will vfnie~{Blackhoard : " Noble character " . . . " noble deeds "), and perhaps you can complete my sentence in one word. ("Inspires.") Montalemberb's "Life of St. Elizabeth," introduction, pp. 93, 94, of English translation. Here, then, is a kind of inspiration, or life-giving ; there are no dolls here, but a man who acts more nobly than he might have acted, because he had taken in the beautiful meaning of the lady Elizabeth's actions. He was the better for having known her. This next man was better for knowing . . , well, not a princess this time ! Nurse Alice, of whom I believe I have told you stories before, The story at the close of the lesson on Self-control is referred to. The present anecdote is from Mrs. Alice Terton's " Lights and Shadows in a Hospital," p. 28. was nursing a sick barman. His mind was disordered ; he talked wildly of the tavern in which he served cus- tomers ; he pointed to terrible creatures which he said he saw in corners of the hospital ward. As a matter of fact, he suffered from Delirium Tremens ; but this need not be mentioned. Now and then he half uttered an evil word, but be- fore the oath was really said, he called out as if com- manding himself," " Stop that now, missus won't allow any swearing ! " Or he cried, " Stop that now ; if missus hears you, you'll get the sack ; no swearing ! remember, that's her rule ! " Was the mistress in the room? ("No.") No, she 194 MOKAL INSTRUCTION : was distant. Had she made a good rule? ("Yes.") Which acted in her absence ! So what had her good character done? (''Stopped his bad language," etc.) Her good character had, as we say, " influenced " him even when she was not seen. In this lesson I should not inscribe much on the blackboard. It is one of those delicate subjects in which it is wiser to rely rather on the spirit of the stories than on formal conclusions. One may, or may not, at this point record some such thought as, " Good character checks evil," etc. Incidentally, I may observe that the anecdote illustrates the antithesis of Positive and Negative methods, so often referred to in our discussions in Part I. The bad habit of foul language is here alluded to with quite obvious condemnation, and yet the condem- nation is expressed casually. The very fact that the man checks himself in this dramatic way conveys adequate associations of re- buke to the children's judgment. At the same time the accent is placed on the ennobling force exercised upon, and in, the man's conscience. One more story before we part ! It was a dark night and the streets in Paris at that time — the seventeenth century — were narrow, and hem- med in by tall, gabled houses. A man was hastening along, carrying a baby. He wore the dress of a monk — a Catholic monk. I am sorry to say the baby had been cast away by its own mother; and Vincent de Paul, such was the good man's name, had found it in its helpless misery, and was bearing it to a shelter, or "hospital," kept by the Sisters of Charity. Saint Vincent (for so he was called after his death, and so I will call him now) was himself the founder of the order of good women whom he called " Sisters of Charity". Halt! ITS THEOEY AND PEACTICE 195 A group of men had been hiding in the shadow of the crooked street and tall houses. They supposed he was some "strayed reveller," going home from feast or theatre or dance. Halt ! It was the call of robbers who demanded money or jewels. " Let me pass," he said gently to the fierce-looking thieves; "I carry a child to a home which — 'poor little foundling ! — it sadly needs. My work is an errand of mercy. Let me go," " Your name, sir ? " " My name is Vincent de Paul." There was silence for a moment. All Paris, even the thieves of Paris, knew the noble character of Vincent. His very name touched their hearts. " Pass on, father," they said. They bent before him, and he blessed them as he passed. Julia Kavanagh's "Women of Christianity," p. 195. Pi-ay do not add another word. Let the lesson close with this vision of the dynamic of a gracious soul. On one occasion I gave the preceding lesson in presence of an adult audience, and one of the listeners put a somewhat ingenious dilemma to me. "You told the children," he said, "that the Covetous River — the thing external — could not change character, for character was a Power Witliin. Very well, but was it not evident that alcohol had had a very considerable influence on that barman in the hospital ? " If this should seem a real difficulty, one could tell the story of the barman without reference to alcohol, as, in fact, I have done in the above lesson. If, however, the reference to alcohol is made, there are various replies to be made. The alcoliol was indeed an external influence ; so also was the inhibiting influence of the 196 MOEAL INSTRUCTION : mistress. If, again, the alcohol was a force from without, there was a counter-force still at work from within, in the check which the man placed upon his impulse. In another lesson it would bo quite wise to point out dangers that thi'eaten externally, and the need for a corresponding force of resistance. The teacher should not allow digression into such questions when the lesson is definitely directed to the theme of Character as an Inspiration-force. The End. ABERDEEN : THE UNIVERSITY PRESS I^- Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. iiRU AUG 3 76 yUL29l07f^ 10m.7.'7l(P634SsS)-Z. 53 ■^g- UCLA-Young Research Library LC268 .G73 y I'llHI lillilll II jl L 009 530 284