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THE RISING GENERATION
A
DISCOURSE
BEFORE THE
SOUTH PLACE SOCIETY,
JUNE 27TH, 1880,
BY
MONCURE D. CONWAY, M.A.
LONDON :
SOUTH PLACE, FINSBURY.
PRICE TWOPENCE.
�LONDON :
Wateblow & Sons Limited
LONDON WALL.
�THE RISING GENERATION.
<^OME of us can remember the time when the
heart of England was stirred by Elizabeth
Barrett’s poem, “ The Cry of the Children.” A revela
tion had come from the dark mines of the country
telling how little children were held all their lives in
gloomy imprisonment, knowing nothing but work. In
the mines were subterranean villages gloomy as the
chambers of Dante’s Hell; some children were born
there, lived, laboured, and died there, and only
when dead did they come into the upper world—for
burial. Little children were found who did not know
what a flowrer was—they had never seen a flower.
Then the “ Cry of the Children ” was heard. They
uttered none for themselves; down in the pit they
silently worked through their miserable lives, while the
children of the world danced and were gay; yet their
voices were heard in the poet’s lamentation, in the
stateman’s eloquence, in the people’s sympathy, and
the wrong was swept away.
It seems to us now almost incredible that such an
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evil should have existed within our own memories. So
clear to our eyes are the evils of other times than our
own. But, alas, the need is always for eyes that can
see the evils of their own time, and how few are they !
In Dante’s Inferno one of the saddest places was the
abode of those who moved about in a spiritual fog
which obscured everything that was near to them.
They could clearly see events in the far past, they
could see into the future, but they could not see the
present. These, during life, had given no effect to
the experience of the past, exerted no influence on
the future, because they did not study to discern the
facts at hand, the conditions around them. They
could not see time’s flowing stream at the point where
it passed them, where must be dropped what is to
reach the future. It is but a too faithful picture of
multitudes who do not seem to themselves to be
in any Inferno at all. There are many who can hear
the cry of the children in the last generation, but can
hear no cry in the present. Yet there is a cry. It
comes no longer from subterranean mines, but it
comes from unhappy homes; from the gloomy realms
of pauperism, ignorance, and disease; and it comes
from the sunless dungeons of dogma, where millions
of children live and die, never seeing any flower of
life, of beauty, or of joy.
In speaking to you this morning of the rising
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generation I do not propose to enter upon ideal
speculations about the future, nor to propose quixotic
schemes for abolishing all the evils of the world. I
wish rather to limit your attention to facts near at
hand, and conditions more or less within our reach.
And, first of all, to impress upon you, as practical
people, the fact that the visible conditions of the world
have invisible foundations. Things are founded on
thoughts. The world that man has built up,—the
world of society, politics, nationality, religion,—is a
phenomenal world, supported by causes always causing
it; having for its beams and rafters moral and mental
sustainers; and every change of thought or belief in
the human mind is followed by a change in the visible
conditions of the world. For example, were the
Sabbatarian superstition removed from the mind of
this country, the bars and bolts which close the
refining institutions of the country would also be
removed. If the Christian superstition were to die out
of the English mind, the wealth and power it freezes
up in an iceberg would melt, and streams would flow
through the deserts where hearts and brains are
famishing. Beware therefore of undervaluing thought,
knowledge, beliefs, principles, because they are in
visible. There are many thousands of Christian people
who industriously battle with visible sufferings and
vices. They do a little good here and a little good
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there, in particular cases ; but the evils invariably
return. Like the fabled daughters of Danaus they fill
their sieves with water, but it always runs out again,
because they do not stop the holes in the sieve’s
bottom : they do not stop them because they are
invisible; they are the unconscious falsities of their
creeds, diverting, human minds and efforts away from
the work of practically saving themselves from actual
evils, to the fruitless work of saving themselves from
unreal evils.
The only way'to help men permanently is to enable
them to help themselves. To give them resources is
to shield them from want and sorrow; to educate
their mental and physical strength is to make them
rich; to surround them with social interests is to
make them good citizens; and all these, and other
conditions of human welfare, depend upon the pre
vailing doctrine of what is the chief end and aim of
human life. He who lifts that aim even a little, lifts
the lives of millions with it; and a man is never so
charitable, never so practical, as when he is destroying
an error and affirming a truth. If benevolence wishes
to bestow or bequeathe real benefit, let it not give too
largely to the institutions which deal with the annual
crop of evils that ignorance sows, let it attack the
ignorance ; let it not build temperance coffee-houses
to be closed on the only day they are much needed,
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but attack the superstition which locks the people
out of the splendid art-houses already existing, and
leaves them no resource but debauchery. I do not
disparage the disposition to relieve suffering whenever
met with ; but let it not be supposed that such is the
highest or the most practical charity to mankind. A
single pound given for human culture, for spiritual
liberty, for advancement of a high cause or principle,
is worth a thousand bestowed to salve over wounds
which only knowledge and justice can heal. And 1
will add that as the pound given for the transient
mitigation of an evil is but a drop of oil on an ocean
of misery, that which is bestowed in freeing a mind
from error is strictly economised, and has a fair
prospect of being multiplied through generations.
This high charity must not only be thus practical
and economical in its object, but also in its method.
The regeneration of the world must be through its
successive generations. You cannot change the habits
of an old man. What troubles grow from those habits
you may assuage, but they can only be eradicated
with the constitution around which they have formed.
The best thing a matured generation can do is to run
to seed—the seed of experience—to select from these
-seeds those that are largest and soundest, and sow
•them in the quick soil of youth and vigour. It is the
principles so entrusted to the rising generation which
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grow with its growth, transmute decays into life,
failures into success, and transmit an ever-increasing
volume of wisdom and happiness.
What then is the present cry of the children ? their
perhaps inarticulate, but all the profounder cry ? What
are their needs ? How are they being taught ? It is
not our business to boast that much has been done,
that the children have been taken from the streets and
put to school. That was the work of a generation now
closed. What work the next is to add to that, is a
question more inportant than what has been already
done; we can rightly rejoice only if we feel that the
best is now being done.
It is to be feared we have little reason to felicitate
ourselves upon our dealings with the rising generation.
To a large extent the young are being taught over
again what their elders have painfully unlearned ; they
are solemnly and deliberately crammed with that
which the best thought of our time has proved to be
untrue.
A young man recently emancipated from Roman
Catholicism gave me an account of how he wasbrought up. When the poor little papist is born, his
inborn demon is exorcised. Water is thrown on his
head, also salt and oil; the cross signed on its fore
head ; a candle is held beside it, a Latin formula
muttered, and a half-crown demanded. The mother
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is also subjected to an exorcism for having borne a
demon into the world, and another half-crown is'
demanded for the churching. Both of these cere
monies remain in the Church of England. The water
exorcism remains in all denominations. Even some
Unitarians are not ashamed to practice a form which
is either a mockery, or a proclamation of the diabolical
nature of the child.
Fortunately the little papist is unconscious of these
proceedings ; but unfortunately, his training is on the
belief that the exorcised demon is always trying to get
back into the form from which he was expelled. He
is taught to regard this as the chief danger of his life;
he must continually make the sign of the cross, and
pray to Jesus, Joseph, Mary, and other saints. He
must bow to holy pictures and crucifixes, wear holy
medals and charms, and is taught that these are the
things which alone protect him from danger every
moment. When he enters church or school he
sprinkles himself with holy water, bends his knee
before an altar, and understands that he inhales
mysterious good things with incense. At school he
utters “ Hail Mary ” every time the hour strikes. He
is fed on miraculous stories of the marvels wrought
by saints and holy objects. The Catechism is the
. only thing taught him with any real industry : the
■ three principal ideas with which he is impressed are
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his utter depravity, his utter inability to help himself
without the priest, and the diabolical iniquity of
presuming to ask any question about the “sacred
mysteries.’ At the age of seven or nine he is prepared
for confession by what is called ‘ examining the
conscience ’ which consists in making him read over
a list of all the abominations ever committed by man.
The purity of the child’s mind being thus poisoned,
he is made to confess all the evil thoughts so awakened.
He is then taught the sacredness of penance; worship
of the Eucharist as God himself; and so he is given
to society. But if all that should succeed in really
moulding-him he would be hardly better off mentally
than were those children of the mines who never saw
a flower.
This is the pit from which the Christian child of
this country was dug by the Reformation, but was
very soon plunged into others where much of its
little life is still passed. Puritanism was even a
darker pit than Catholicism, and most of the sects
were mere variants of Puritanism.
The English
Church being the church of royalty and wealth, had
to accommodate its dogmas to the indulgencies, tastes
and sports of the upper classes. The aristocracy
preserved many traditions from its barbaric origin,
and has steadily refused to be captured by asceticism,
or tamed by Puritanism. But unfortunately it did
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not refuse to submit to hypocrisy; and it goes on still
with the supplications of terror on its lips and
indifference in its heart.
Its catechism indoctrinates
in asceticism, its life in worldliness. It cries for
mercy on Sunday, and hunts foxes on Monday. It
calls itself a miserable sinner at church, and resents
the slightest aspersion of its character elsewhere. It
were hard to conceive a more continuous drill in
hypocrisy than that child undergoes who is taught the
church catechism in the intervals of a life practically
absorbed in worldly schemes. It is to the credit of
human nature that there are so many g&pdjent
characters which survive the training of Catrmn8fta,
and the repressions of Puritanism; but, still more to
its credit that so many frank and earnest men survive
the teachings of a church which so baldly separates
theory from practice.
But statistics show a vast population never going
to any church at all.
A large number of these are working men, who feel
that the church is their enemy, and to whom the
sects are unattractive. The labouring masses find in
sleep, drink, and public-house gossip, the best
compensation for six days’ toil. And there are many
literary men, men of science, and gentlemen, who
stay away from church and sect out of sheer disbelief
and disgust. Yet the families of these generally go to
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church, their children are baptised, catechised, and
generally taught the dogmas which their parents
despise. With the exception of the comparatively few
Liberals who have formed Societies of their own, the
rising generation is thus instructed in the same
catechisms, creeds, confessions in which their prede
cessors were instructed.
Even the learning of the
country abnegates its paramount duty to see that the
women and children of the nation are taught truth,
and consecrated in every way possible to the diffusion
of truth.
Thus the Catholic procedure, rejected in theory,
characterises the actual treatment of the Protes
tant child, too often of the disbeliever’s child. He
is not dealt with as one possessed, but as a moral
invalid who must go to the holy doctor every week,
and be dosed with piety and texts.
It is a terrible misdirection of that child’s mind,
and many are mentally hunch-backed for life by it.
It is by children being committed to the parsons as
to dress-makers. Through this indifferentism, which
may almost be called hardened, society goes on
repeating the old routine from generation to genera
tion.
Every year rolls up its steady average- of
abuses unreformed, evils unchanged, falsities laughed
at and maintained. Some progress is made but it is
'mainly through the slow working of natural necessity,
�the accompaniment of physical changes incident to the
pursuit of wealth.
It is as nothing compared with the progress that
would be made if all the thinkers and educated people
of the community were to seriously set themselves to
the work of securing to their families, especially their
children, the full benefits of their best knowledge
and experience, treating every attempt to teach them
fashionable falsities as they would attempts to indoct
rinate them in sorcery. It is the abstract verdict of
science that Christian dogmas are false. That is equally
the verdict of moral and mental philosophy. But their
verdict remains unexecuted. Until they feel also that
these dogmas are so many poisons, the Creeds and
Catechisms so many bottles of poison steadily infused
into the springs that feed society; until they besiege
those sects which so poison spiritual springs as they
would water-companies sending corruption through the
community, or adulterators of the public food; until
then, we need not hope that the best knowledge of this
age will enter upon its duty of bringing social institutions
out of their barbarous constitution into conformity
with reason and right.
What is the Creed taught to the millions of children
around us ? That they are born totally depraved; that
they are in danger of eternal damnation; that they
have incurred this danger by no act of their own, and
can be saved by no act of their own; that they were
�(
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corrupted by a man and woman who lived six thousand
years ago, and must be saved by the murder of a man
who lived over eighteen hundred years ago. This is
what is taught every child, with few exceptions.
What does human culture believe? That such
teaching is utterly preposterous. It believes every
child is born innocent, liable to actual dangers, to be
saved from them by others’ care in early life, ultimately
by its own intelligence and activities, quite irrespective
of any apple eaten in Paradise or murder committed in
Palestine.
The dogmas are just the reverse of the knowledge,
and yet there is no serious combined effort among the
intelligent people to substitute knowledge for proven
falsities in the training of children.
It is too obvious to be insisted on that such a
phenomenon is immoral, not to say criminal. Yet
many who see the evil are unable to see or suggest
the remedy. The impediment that seems to lie in the
way is the principle of patriarchal liberty under which
the various sects have been able to combine in a
political community. We cannot step in between
parent and child and interfere with any teaching which
professes to be religious. Were such a principle
adopted it would be the Liberals who would suffer
most. Liberalism cannot afford to advocate any in
terference by law, not even to protect a child from
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having its eyes put out—its intellectual eyes—or its
moral back broken by the weight of false dogmas
parentally imposed.
We are not, indeed, responsible for not doing what
we cannot do, but we are responsible for doing our
very best with what ways and means are at our
disposal. There is no call to quarrel with our tools
until we have made the most of them. Have we done
that ? Are we aiming to do that! Consider this, for
instance : suppose it were no longer for the interest
of any social institution, such as a Church, that these
dogmas should be taught to any. Suppose, if your
imagination is equal to it, that the endowments of the
Church were all transferred to institutions which teach
no creeds ; all national property going to endow that
which all agree to be real knowledge; all sectarian
property being taxed because it is private property.
That would be the simplest political justice. Because
that is not the state of the law, you and I are made to
pay every year to support dogmas we abhor. Sadi
said that if there were a tax upon reading the Koran
in public many holy men would be dumb. Though I
would not say that of the Bible, it may safely be
said of the Athanasian Creed : if every time those
anathemas are uttered from the pulpit the curser of
his opponents were taxed instead of bribed, that
solemn blasphemy would cease. And many other
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things would cease if law, fashion, and respectability
did not throw around them a glamour which hides
their monstrosity.
Without disestablishment of the Church, the dis
establishment of dogmas generally,—removal of the
immunities of the dissenting sects,—cannot take place ;
and without disendowment, and the taxation of church
property, a vast power would be given up to the
unchecked control of superstition. It is, therefore, a
plain, legitimate, and not intolerant aim for Liberalism
to labour for the total disendowment of all creeds.
Parents would then have no inducement, no bribe to
submit their children to a catechetical tuition which
they did not approve ; and it is very doubtful if
many parents, were the matter thus thrown absolutely
upon themselves, would summon the catechist to their
families. If we could only compel common sense to
act upon what is now left to sacerdotal self-interest,
many a child would be shielded from inoculation in
error.
You may smile at the idea of our succeeding in
disendowing all creeds. But we may succeed in dis
endowing them in many minds. Every clear agitation
for a rational cause is a process of education; it
commands the attention, and if it be right and
reasonable it must make its way with the process of
of the suns.
�(
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Besides this political direction of our influence, we
may turn our social advantages, whatever they may
be, to the side of what we believe true. The great
power of error lies in the social advantages it can
bestow upon the young, who can feel such advantages
long before they can realise the falsities gilded by
them. The desire for polite and attractive society is
not only natural but worthy, and liberal thinkers owe
it as a duty both to truth and to society that they
should contribute all they can to associate their views
with the standards of good taste, refinement, beauty,
and innocent gaieties. It must be remembered that
in the world the decorations and enjoyments of life
represent its unorthodoxy. The Church has come to
patronise them through compulsion of long experience.
It began with nunneries and convents, dust and ashes,
cowls and hair-garments; ugly anti-social habits and
habiliments were the natural insignia of creeds that
taught man’s depravity and despair. Every earthly
beauty and joy is a protest against orthodoxy, and
they legitimately belong to the religion of Liberalism
and Humanity. Social enjoyments, mirth and beauty,
are heresies which appeal far more to the young
generation than scientific statements. The liberal
movement in this country was historically evolved out
of the Puritan movement, and some of those sombre
traditions still adhere to it; but these should be
�(
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outgrown. Carefulness in dress, observance of fashion
■so far as it is healthy, dancing, interchanges of hospi
tality, should not be regarded as frivolous, but as
related to the progressive civility of the world, the
true accompaniments of its liberation from sacrificial
ideas of religion. Liberalism will be largely benefitted
by more generous outlays in this direction, and by
■each thinker taking care to do his and her part that
the tastes shall not be starved while the intellect and
moral nature are fed. It is of the utmost importance
that in the steady effort of the young to improve the
style and position of their families, they should less
and less have to seek their society chiefly outside of
liberal circles at cost of their religious and intellectual
principles.
It is equally incumbent upon all liberal thinkers to
¿o something towards raising the moral tone of society
from its theological depravation into harmony with the
standard of personal veracity and honour. It is not
veracity and it is not honour that men should submit
without an effort to having their children taught pious
falsehoods and placed under the influence of priests
whose creeds they despise. We need a severer
standard of veracity and honesty than that. It is a
poor subterfuge to say that the rising generation should
be left free to form its own opinions. As well say a
garden should be left free to produce what it pleases.
�(
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It will produce weeds, and so will the mind not
carefully cultured. We owe to all we can influence
our very best thought, our maturest experience, and
we cannot escape that responsibility. We must tell
our children just what we believe true, and let them
know that it is a basis for them to build on. They
are to think for themselves.
Occasions are not wanting to realise for ourselves,
and to impress upon the young, the steadily corrupt
ing influence of proven errors established by law. We
have just witnessed in the legislative assembly of this
great nation how easily, when a constitutional super
stition is touched, men, who in worldly affairs are
gentlemen, relapse into coarseness, calumny, and
lawlessness. In the name of what they call God, but
which is no more a God than Mumbo-Jumbo,—a
fetish made up of the aggregate ignorance of church
men who find it a paying stock, recreant Jews
courting Christian favour, Catholics sniffing again the
burning flesh of Smithfield once mingled with their
incense,—in the name of that God who cursed
nature, kindled Tophet for man, and founded in the
world as under it a government of fire and faggot,
they have not hesitated at any meanness, falsehood,
or injustice to inflict a blow upon intellectual liberty,
and even national liberty which dares disregard
dogma. We have seen one bearing the title of Knight,
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which used to mean defender of woman, dragging up
the name of a lady of spotless character amid brutal
laughter, trying to rob of reputation one whom an
unjust judge had already robbed of her child. All
this we have seen done in the name of an established
phantasm called God. The outbreak of fanaticism in
some deputies from wild districts is far less base than
the partizan fury, which, in its eagerness to strike their
conqueror, led a party to vote like one herd upon a
question of fact and law. By a remarkable coincidence
the law is just what will most annoy their opponentsand
most delay public business, so punishing the country
for taking its business out of their hands. There’s truth
and honour for you! These are the followers of Jesus
and protectors of Omnipotence ! These be thy gods,
O people of England, who demand that woman should
be insulted, law defied, and the sanctuary of law
turned into a bear-garden, rather than that a man
holding the opinions of the majority of scientific men
in Europe shall be admitted to sit beside sanctified
sporting squires, priest-ridden papists, and capacious
city-men, making gold out of his blood who had not
where to lay his head ! The Member for Northampton
no doubt has his faults; but now when he suffers not
for his faults but for his virtues, and when in his person
are assailed the rights of every independent thinker in
this nation, I will undertake to affirm that he is nearer
to that man whom the Sanhedrim scourged than the best
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of his assailants, and that the spirit which pursues him
because of his testimony against priestcraft and his
fidelity to the people, is the self-same spirit that
crowned Christ with thorns and pressed poison to the
lips of Socrates.
We need not much regret this revolutionary out
break of superstition allied with the class-interests pre
served by superstition. A more salient illustration of
the wolfish hunger for power underlying the unholy
alliance of pious and political tyranny was never
given to a people. If the Member for Northampton
had lived to Methuselah’s age, and made a daily
speech in Parliament, he could not have done so much
as his enemies have done in a few days to advance the
cause of atheism, so far as that means disbelief in
the God of his oppressors. The Bishop of Peter
borough says the French Revolutionary Assembly
decreed the suppression of God; but the revolutionary
House of Commons has decreed his disgrace. Their
deity is unmasked and turns out to be only a party
whip. If John Milton were living he might see in
this disgrace of the political deity the hand of the
real God overthrowing the usurper of his place. In
his time also imperialism made God into a prop of its
despotism, and Milton then wrote, “ Sure it was the
hand of God to let them fall, and be taken in such a
foolish trap as hath exposed them to all derision ;
�(
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........................ thereby testifying how little he accepted
(prayers) from those who thought no better of the
living God than of a blind buzzard idol, fit to be so
served and worshipped.”
This nation is more hopelessly sunk in superstition
than I believe it to be, if it be not now awakened to
the politically destructive tendencies of dogmas
imported from barbarous tribes. It is, however, of
importance that we should see to it that the lesson is
not lost upon the rising generation. We have in this
country a great literature in which the highest
principles of morality and honour are reflected. On
the other hand, we have a so-called religion in which
all the massacres of Judaism and Christianity, their
treasons to humanity, are sanctified.
We have
simply to let every unsophisticated mind look
on this picture and on that.
We have only
to point to theological morality in Parliament
putting a premium on hypocrisy, by declaring that
it is ready to receive an atheist if he conceals his
opinions; to theological morality trampling law for
party ends; to theological morality foul-mouthed,
insolent, treating honesty of mind and honesty of
speech as crimes. We have only to ask the con
science of the mother, whether she would be glad
to have her child grow up to so encourage conceal
ment of thought, so brow-beat honesty, so over-ride
�law, slander man and insult woman, all for the sake
of God ? We have only to ask the heart of youth
whether it is prepared to worship a God so upheld,
or for any success or ambition to pretend to believe
in a religion so built on baseness ?
I believe that these questions are stirring millions of
hearts this day, and that the rising generation will
show it when fully risen. I believe that it is largely
because lessons like this have been impressed
upon past generations that the present struggle of
freedom against sacerdotalism has come.
It is also because our wise fathers taught those now
grown gray that their trusty weapons were to be free
and honest thought, fact, argument, lawful, that we
now see Oppression taking to violence, to revolution,
and Progress standing by the law. Let us better their
instruction. Let us impress upon the rising generation
that in calmness and justice is their strength. Let us
teach them the gentle, irresistible force that goes
with intellectual power, with study, mastery of their
cause, and above all the might that ever gathers to
the higher standard of morality and humanity.
�SOUTH PLACE
CHAPEL*
WORKS TO BE OBTAINED IN THE LIBRARY.
BY M. D. CONWAY, M.A.
Prices.
The Sacred Anthology: a Book of Ethnical s. d.
Scriptures......................................................... 10 0
The Earthward Pilgrimage.................................
5 0
Do.
do.......................................... 2 6
Republican Superstitions .................................
2 6
Christianity .....................................................
1 6
Human Sacrifices in England
.......................
1 0
Sterling and Maurice...........................................
0 2
Intellectual Suicide...........................................
0 2
The First Love again...........................................
0 2
Our Cause and its Accusers......................
... 0 1
Alcestis in England...........................................
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Unbelief : its nature, cause, and cure ............. 0 2
Entering Society
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What is Religion ?—Max Muller's First Hibbert
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Atheism: a Spectre...........................................
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The Criminal’s Ascension.................................
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The Religion of Humanity.................................
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A Last Word.....................................................
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Idols and Ideals (including the Essay on Chris
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The Transfiguration of Religion.......................
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Salvation
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Speculation .....................................................
Duty
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The Dyer’s Hand
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Going Through and Getting Over
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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The rising generation: a discourse before the South Place Society, June 27th 1880
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Conway, Moncure Daniel [1832-1907.]
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 23, [1] p. ; 15 cm.
Notes: Part of Morris Miscellaneous Tracts 2. Printed by Waterlow and Sons, London Wall. With list of works to be obtained in the Library of South Place Chapel at end of pamphlet.
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Child rearing
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Child Rearing-Moral and Ethical Aspects
Children
Dogma
Education
Free Thought
Moral Education
Morris Tracts
Rationalism
Youth-Great Britain-Religious Life
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Text
THE
RELIGION OF CHILDREN
A DISCOURSE, WITH READINGS AND MEDITATION,
given at
SOUTH PLACE CHAPEL,
OCTOBER
2i, 1877,
BY
MONCURE D. CONWAY, M.A.
frige twopence.
�ORDER
1. Hymn 132—
“ Smiles on past misfortune’s brow.”—Gray.
2. Readings, pages 3 to 7.
3. Hymn 180—
“I think if thou could’st know.”—Adelaide Procter.
4. Meditation, p. 8.
5. Anthem 22—
“Gently fall the dews of eveP—Saralt P. Adams.
6. Discourse, p. 9.
7. Hymn, 191 —
“ Oh yet we trust that somehow good
Will be the final goal of ill. ”—Tennyson.
8.
Dismissal.
�HYMN 132.
READINGS.
HEBREW PROVERBS.
My son, if base men entice thee,
■Consent thou not.
Walk not in the way with them :
Keep back thy foot from their paths :
Tor their feet run to evil.
.'Surely in vain the net is spread,
In the sight of any bird ;
But these lay snares for their own lives.
.Such are the ways of everyone greedy of gain;
The life of those addicted to it, it taketh away.
Because they hated knowledge,
Therefore they shall eat of the fruit of their own way,
And from their own counsel they shall be filled.
T’or the turning away of the simple shall slay them,
And the carelessness*of fools shall destroy them.
�4
ORIENTAL FABLE.
The learned Saib, who was entrusted with the education of the
son of the Sultan Carizama, related to him each day a story.
One day he told him this from the annals of Persia
“A magi
cian presented himself before King Zohak, and breathing on his
breast, caused two serpents to come forth from the region of the
king’s heart. The king in wrath was about to slay him, but the
magician said, ‘ These two serpents are tokens of the glory
of your reign. They must be fed, and with human blood. Thisvon may obtain by sacrificing to them the lowest of your people ;
but they will bring you happiness, and whatever pleases you isjust.’ Zohak was at first shocked ; but gradually he accustomed
himself to the counsel, and his subjects were sacrificed to the
serpents. But the people only saw in Zohak a monster bent on
their destruction. They revolted, and shut him up in a cavern
of the mountain Damarend, where he became a prey to the two
serpents whose voracity he could no longer appease.
“ What a horrible history ! ” exclaimed the young prince, when
his preceptor had ended it. “ Pray tell me another that I can
hear without shuddering.” “ Willingly, my lord,” replied Saib.
“ Here is a very simple one :—-A young sultan placed his confi
dence in an artful courtier, who filled his mind with false ideas of
glory and happiness, and introduced into his heart pride and volup
tuousness. Absorbed by these two passions, the young monarch
sacrificed his people to them, insomuch that in their wretchedness
they tore him from the throne. He lost his crown and his
treasures, but his pride and voluptuousness remained, and being
now unable to satisfy them, he died of rage and despair.” The
young prince of Carizama said, “ I like this story better than theother.” “ Alas, prince,” replied his preceptor, “itis neverthelessthe same.”
�5
FROM “THE SPIRIT’S TRIALS.”
By J. A. Froude.
A TALENT, of itself unhealthily precocious, was most unwisely
pushed forward and encouraged out by everybody—by teachers
Ld schoolmasters, from the vanity of having a little monster to
display as their workmanship; by his father, because he vms
anxious for the success of his children in life, and the quicker
they <mt on the better : they would the sooner assume a position
It had struck no one there might be a mistake about it. Tw one
could have ever cared to see even if it were possible they migat,
or five minutes’ serious talk with the boy, or to have listened to
his laurh, would have shown the simplest of them that t rey we. e
but developing a trifling quickness of faculty ; that the powe
which should have gone for the growth of the entire rec
bein-directed off into a single branch, which was su ed g
disproportioned magnitude, while the stem was quietly decaying.
L to the character, of the entire boy-his temper, dispos tion, health of tone in heart and mind, all that was presumem
It made no show at school exhibitions, and at east due dy
assumed no form of positive importance as regarded after
So this was all left to itself. Of course, if a boy knew half the
Iliad by heart at ten, and had construed the Odyssey through a
eleven, all other excellences were a matter of course. . .
was naturally timid, and shrunk from all the amusements and
Xes of other boys. So much the better : he would keep to his
books
He was under-grown for ms age, infirm, an un
healthy'"and a disposition might have been observed in him
even then in all his dealings with other boys and with Ins master
X evade difficulties instead of meeting them-a feature whi
should have called for the most delicate handling, anc uou
have far better repaid the time and attention which were w
�6
in forcing him beyond his years, in a few miserable attainments,
. . In a scene so crowded as this world is, or as the little world
of a public school is, with any existing machinery it is impossible
to attend to minute shades of character. There is a sufficient
likeness among boys to justify the use of general, very general
laws indeed. They are dealt with in the mass. An average
treatment is arrived at. If an exception does rise, and it happens
to disagree, it is a pity, but it cannot be helped. “Punish,” not
“prevent,” is the old-fashioned principle. If a boy goes wrong,
whip him. Teach him to be afraid of going wrong by the pains
and penalties to ensue—just the principle on which gamekeepers
used to try to break dogs. But men learned to use gentler
methods soonest with the lower animals. As to the effects of the
treatment, results seem to show pretty much alike in both cases ;
but with the human animal an unhappy notion clung on to it,
and still clings, and will perpetuate the principle and its disas
trous consequences, that men and boys deserve their whipping,
as if they could have helped doing what they did in a way dogs
cannot. . . It would be well if people would so far take
example from what they find succeed with their dogs, as to learn
there are other ways at least as efficacious, and that the desired
conduct is better if produced in any other way than in that. . .
On the whole, general rules should have no place in family
education. It is just there, and there perhaps alone, that there
are opportunities of studying shades of difference, and it should
be the business of affection to attend to them. When affection
i s really strong, it will be an equal security against indulgence
and over-hasty severity. . . .
I take it to be a matter of the most certain experience in
dealing with boys of an amiable, infirm disposition, that exactly
the treatment they receive from you they will deserve. In a
general way it is true of all persons of unformed character who.
�7
Come in contact with you as your inferiors, although with men it
cannot be relied on with the same certainty, because their feel
ings are less powerful, and their habit of moving this way or that
wZy under particular circumstances more determinate. But with
the very large class of boys of a yielding nature who have very
little self-confidence, are very little governed by a determined
will or judgment, but sway up and down under the impulses of
the moment, if they are treated generously and trustingly, it
may be taken for an axiom that their feelings will be always
strong enough to make them ashamed not to deserve it. Treat
them as if they deserved suspicion, and as infallibly they soon
actually will deserve it. People seem to assume that to be
governed by impulse means, only “ bad impulse,” and they
endeavour to counteract it by trying to work upon the judg
ment, a faculty which these boys have not got, and so cannot
possibly be influenced by it. There never was a weak boy yet
that was deterred from doing wrong by ultimate distant con
sequences he was to learn from thinking about them. It is idle
to attempt to manage him otherwise than by creating and foster
ing generous impulses to keep in check the baser ones. And
the greatest delicacy is required in effecting this. It is not
enough to do a substantial good. Substantial good is Oiten diy
or repulsive on the surface, and must be understood to be
valued ; just, again, what boys are unable to do. . . Strong
natures may understand and value the reality. Women, and
such children as these, will not be affected by it, unless it shows
on the surface what is in the heart. Provided you will do it in
a kind, sympathising manner, you may do what you please with
them ; otherwise nothing you do will affect them at all.
HYMN iSo.
�8
MEDITATION.
As we gather to-day, apart from the conventional world of
worshippers, we are still between those vast realms of moral
good and evil which are reflected in all human consciousness.
Beneath, stretches that abyss which human imagination has
peopled with demons and devils, and the manifold tortures of
souls in eternal pain and despair ; above, the fair realms of joy
with its spirits of light, angels, cherubim and seraphim. But
these are all within each of us. All those demons mean only
hearts sunk low in selfishness ; all those angels mean hearts
raised high in burning love. Not mean or poor is any lot which
gives room to deny self, to put all self-seeking passions under
foot, to ascend by the ardour and spirit of love. There is the
grand conflict between angel and demon waged, the struggle
between light and darkness, and there the victory is being won.
Great is love 1 Whether it sends its sweet influence through a
community or a home, whether it is saving a world or a heart,
great and divine is love! For it closes over and hides
the dark region of guilt and baseness within us, it quickens the
mind and expands the heart to their fulness of life. In each
heart are the two doors—one opening downward to the pit of
selfishness in all its forms, one opening upwards to the purest
joys ; and it is when we give all to the spirit of Love that the
hell is for ever conquered, and we build around us henceforth our
eternal heaven.
ANTHEM 22.
�THE RELIGION OF CHILDREN.
In some respects the child living in the present age
finds its lines fallen in pleasant places. It is not, like
its ancestors, tortured with nauseous drugs, nor so
much with the rod. The clergyman no longer pro
nounces over the babe at baptism, as he once did,
“ I command thee, unclean spirit, that thou come out
of this infantnor delivers it up to be dealt with as
if its natural temper and will were efforts of the unclean
spirit to get back again. In Iceland the old people
account for elves by saying that once when the Al
mighty visited Eve after the fall, she kept most of her
children out of the way because they were not washed;
on which these were sentenced to be always invisible,
were turned into elves, and became the progenitors of
such. But we are beginning to be more merciful than
that even for the unwashed, and have gone a consider
able way towards humanising them and making them
presentable.
�Id
As to their literary culture and entertainment, there
were probably more good and attractive books for
children published in the last ten years than in the
whole of the last century. Many of the finest writers
of our generation—Dickens, Thackeray, Hawthorne,
Kingsley—the list would be long—have rightly thought
it a high task of genius to write books for children.
But in religious matters the children can hardly be
congratulated on the age upon which they have fallen.
The child is a piece of nature—physical, mental, moral
nature. Heaven and earth meet in it; the laws of
reason are in its instincts as well as zoologic laws;
and these harmonise in it. The child is a unit. Con
science is for a time external; it knows good and evil
in the parental conscience, not in itself. There is no
divorce between the two kinds of goodness—what
is good for eye and mouth, and what is good, for the
soul. There is no fruit inwardly forbidden. Confucius
said 11 Heaven and earth are without doubleness,’’ but
Hebrew Scriptures say God has made all things double
—one is set against the other. Our theology has been
largely evolved out of this Hebraism, but our children
live morally in that primitive age which cannot realise
profoundly any dualism. The child, therefore, lives in
a heaven and earth without doubleness; if its parent
only consents to a thing, it feels no misgiving; but it
is early introduced to a religion full, not only of double-
�II
ness, but of duplicity. It is the gangrene of our
age that it says one thing and means another; professes one thing and believes another; and nearly
.
every child, taught any religion at all, is taug t mgs
incongruous. I used, in childhood, to wonder about
the meaning of that prayer in the Zh Dam,
e
us never be confounded;” but as time went on,
whatever else was obscure, the confusion grew clear.
Not only that old sense of a word which reqmres
philology to explain ; but the sense of every chapter
•n the Bible, every sentence in the Catechism,
requires the interpretation of knowledge and. expe
rience; whilst the sentences being m Eng ,
apparently, the young mind is compelled
p
some meaning into them-a meaning pretty certain
to be wrong—or else be put to confusion It is not,
however, the double tongue of formal teaching wh 1
is worst; the mental confusion is not so bad as the
moral; and there it is impossible to conceive anything
more anomalous than most of the rehg.ous induct o
—so-called—around us. It is the necessity of the
home, the nursery, and of the school, that the c>
should be taught to be forgiving, gentle knd and
never angry or hateful. It is instructed that all
X be «». But just so fast, and so far as
dogmas can be crammed into the child, it is1 asyste
which begins with God’s wrath against the whole
�12
world, and ends with Christ’s damnation of vast
multitudes. A little boy in an American family with
which I am acquainted, being in a passion with his
playmate, declared that he hated him, and never
would see him again. His sister rebuked him, told
him that was very wrong, and not like Christ. “ Christ
never hated and abused others, not even his enemies.”
“No,” said the boy, “but he’s going to.”
It may be that only one boy in many would be
clear-headed enough to say that, but many can feel
what one or none can say. It is impossible that
children can be taught in one breath a vindictive
Christianity and a gentle Christianity—dogmas of
fear and principles of trust—and not imbibe either
muddy waters of confusion or the waters of bitterness,
where they should find only fountains of light and joy.
In one respect the Reformation had an unhappy effect
upon the work of nurturing little children. It trans
ferred the care of “ saving its soul,” as it is called,
from the outside to the inside of a head too small to
manage it. In the Catholic family the drop of holy
water and sign of the cross on the child’s forehead are
alone required; and for many years it is mainly left to a
natural growth; at any rate, not encouraged to grapple
with everlasting problems.
Under the reformed
religion there grew an increasing anxiety as to how
the souls of the children were to be saved; and the
�13
way fixed on was to stimulate strongly its fears and its
hopes.
Luther brought with him a bright children s para
dise from the Church of Rome. Here is his letter to
his son, aged 4 :—•
il Grace and peace in Christ, my dearly beloved
little son. I am glad to know that you are learning
well and that you say your prayers. So do, my little
son, and persevere; and^hen I come home I will
bring home with me a present from the annual fair.
I know of a pleasant and beautiful garden into which
many children go, where they have golden little coats,
and gather pretty apples under the trees, and pears,
and cherries, and plums (pflaumen), and yellow
plums (spillen); where they sing, leap, and are
merry; where they also have beautiful little horses,
with golden bridles and silver saddles. When I
asked the man that owned the garden ‘ Whose are
these children ? ’ he said ‘ They are the children that
love to learn, and to pray, and are pious.’
“ Then I said, ‘ Dear Sir, I also have a son I he is
called Johnny Luther (Hanischen Luther). May he
not come into the garden, that he may eat such
beautiful apples and pears, and ride such a little
horse, and play with these children ? ’ Then the man
said ‘ If he loves to pray and to learn, and is pious,
he shall also come into the garden; Philip too, and
�14
little James; and if they all come together, then they
may have likewise whistles, kettle-drums, lutes and
harps; they may dance also, and shoot with little
crossbows.’
“Then he showed me a beautiful green grass
plot in the garden prepared for dancing, where hang
nothing but golden fifes, drums, and elegant silver
cross-bows. But it was now early, and the children
had not yet eaten. Thereupon I could not wait for
the dancing, and I said to the man, ‘ Ah, dear Sir,
I will instantly go away and write about all of this to
my little son John; that he may pray earnestly, and
learn well, and be pious, so that he may also come
into this garden; but he has an aunt Magdalene,
may he bring her with him ? ’ Then said the man,
(So shall it be ; go and write to him with confidence.’
Therefore, dear little John, learn and pray with de
light ; and tell Philip and James, too, that they must
learn and pray; so you shall come with one another
into the garden. With this I commend you to
Almighty God—and give my love to aunt Magdalene ;
give her a kiss for me. Your affectionate father,
Martin Luther.” (In the year 1530.)
It is plain that the man who wrote that letter was
himself a child. Thunder for the Emperor, lightning
for the Pope, but a shower of rainbows for little
Johnny. But that child’s paradise is now as obsolete
�iS
as the Elysian Fields, or the Indian’s happy hunting
ground There was already a worm amid its blossoms
while Luther described them: for Calvinism was
lurking near, with terrors to blacken not only the earth
but the blue sky. Happily for Johnny, his father was
not logical, else it might have occurred to him that if
prayer and piety were the way to reach the heavenly
garden, they would naturally be the chief occupation
there. But Calvin was logical; and there is no worse
affliction than your logical man when his premisses
are false. Calvinism made heaven into a large Presby
terian assembly, all the children turned to rigidly
righteous elders ; no children there at all. One by one
in the child’s paradise the blossoms fell blighted.
Instead of the dance, behold a Puritan Sabbath school;
instead of plums and cherries, texts and hymns ; cross
bows yield to catechisms ; and the child learned at last
that its heaven was to be a place where congrega
tions ne’er break up, and Sabbaths have no end.
Well, we have measurably recovered from that. . At
least, many well-to-do families have; the Puritan
paradise is one we are generally quite willing to give to
the poor. It is still largely the ragged-school para
dise, and I suspect that endless Sabbath fixes m many
a ragged boy the resolve never to go there. Meanwhi e,
for the children of a happier earthly lot, the fading away
of the little Luther paradise has left them almost none at
�i6
all. Protestantism, with its education, has shot out
into various theories of the future life for grown-up
people. The Reformer hopes for a scene of endless
progress. The Theologian imagines the supreme bliss
of seeing his own doctrines proved true, and his oppo
nents’ all wrong. The Baptist’s heaven shows the
sprinkling parson confounded; and the Wesleyan will
shout glory at the convicted Calvinist. “ There,” say all
of them, “ we shall see eye to eye”—that is, everybody
shall see as we always saw.
But what has all this to do with the children ? They
do not care for the theological heaven, nor the heaven
of endless progress. The learned Protestant world is
so absorbed in the controversy whether there be any
future at all, that it forgets the little ones who would
like to know whether it be a future worth having.
What is provided for them as the reward of their
prayers, piety, and self-denial ? They go to church ;
they read the Bible; they sit through the tragedy;
but when they look for the curtain to rise on beauty
and happiness, it rises on metaphysical mist, not by
any means attractive or even penetrable to a child.
Since, for us, Luther’s plum-paradise, and the
Puritan paradise, are equally gone beyond recall, we
may look at them calmly and impartially; and we
may see that both have their suggestiveness, and
point to a truth. Luther’s letter is a celebration of
�17
the child’s nature—the purity and sweetness and
even holiness of its little aims and joys. It is like
birds singing over again the old theme—“ Of such
is the kingdom of heaven.’’ But the paradise
Luther promised his child was much too definite.
He went too far into detail; and when little
Johnny grew from the age of four to ten or
twelve, and during that time had learned his lessons,
he would see his paradise losing its summer beauty.
By that time he might have outgrown the whistles, and
become careless of kettle-drums. He might prefer
gold in his pocket to a golden coat. He might find
it, as time went on, impossible to stimulate prayer by
a prospect of silver cross-bows, or even of yellow
plums. And so leaf by leaf, blossom by blossom, his
paradise would fade away; and it could never bloom
again.
On the other hand, the Puritan paradise, with all its
sombreness, did have the advantage of raising the
mind to large conceptions. It was false—cruelly false
__in crushing the innocent mirth and despising the
little aims of the child. That which Puritanism called
petty, was not petty. The boy at his sports is training
the sinews which master the world. The doll quickens
to activity maternal tenderness. It is said Zoroaster
was born laughing, and a sage prophesied he would
be greatest of men. That sage was wiser than the
�i8
Puritan. But it is not necessary to chill the mirth or
to dispel the illusions of childhood, in order to
keep it from the delusion of holding on to its small
pleasures as if the use of existence lay between a
penny trumpet on earth and a golden trumpet in
heaven.
It appears to me that the true religion of a child
is to grow ; and when it is old, its religion will
still be to grow. The child ■will turn from its toys ;
will return to them after longer and longer intervals ;
and lastly leave them, and turning say, “ Mother, what
shall I be when I grow up ? ”
If the mother only knew it, all the catechisms on
earth have no question so sacred as that! The
child that dreams of its future in the great wrorld has
already learned far enough for the time the pettiness
of life’s transient aims : it is already overarched by
an infinite heaven. In the great roaring world, seen
from afar, nothing is defined, nothing limited—it is a
boundless splendour of possibility. All that man
or woman may dream of heaven, a child may dream
of the great world of thought and action into which it
must enter at last, and find there a heaven or a helk
Religion can teach the child no higher lesson than
that, nor stimulate its good motives by any nobler
conception. As its sports train to manly strength, its
little pleasures develop the longing for intellectual
�i9
and moral joys. And if the parent’s tongue is not
equal to the high task of telling the truth about the
tragic abyss of evil to be shunned, or the beautiful
heights of excellence to be won, there are noble
books awaiting the child, the boy, the youth j ready
to meet every phase of the growth, and follow every
fading leaf with a flower more fair, more full of
promise than the cast-off toy or pastime.
What a training for the child entering upon school
life are the stories of Miss Edgeworth—a training in
manliness, independence, sincerity, and justice,
which can make the playground the arena of heroism
and duty ! And there is Scott: the horizon grows
lustrous with noble presences, as the boy reads.
Dickens will tell him the romance of humble life
how kindness and sympathy can find pearls in London
gutters, and scatter them again wherever they go.
Plutarch’s “Lives” frescoe earth and heaven with
heroic forms that remain through life as guardians of
conscience and measures of honourable conduct.
Happily the catalogue is long—too long to be now
repeated—of the good books which tell the young,
what brave and faithful men have done, and can do,
to help the weak, redress wrong, uplift truth and
justice, and make human lives melodious and beau
tiful amid the jarring discords of the world.
And the lives of noblest men and women have for
�20
their dark background the evils they conquered, the
wrongs they assailed; evils and wrongs which are the
■only real hell to be shunned. It is only the fictitious
hell that terrifies the child. The snare set on pur
pose to injure it by a “ ghostly enemy ” ; the dangers it
incurs unknowingly, from an invisible assailant it
may not avoid; these are the terrors that unnerve
and unman. The real dangers of life, when seen,
nerve the strength, man the heart, endow with resolu
tion and courage.
The old man said to a child afraid to go into the
dark—“Go on, child; you will see nothing worse
than yourself.” And that is the fundamental doctrine
for a child. All the hells—their mouths wide open
on the street—the seductive haunts of vice in all its
shapes—they are the creations of human passion and
appetite. According to what they find in us do those
fell dragons devour us, or else feel the point of our
spear in their throat.
And even so we make or mar our own heaven.
Our acts our angels are, or good or ill,
Our fatal shadows that walk by us still.
The little boy came to his mother, angry and weep
ing, complaining that in the hills some other boy
had called him bad names. He had searched, but
could not find him. But the mother well knew that
other concealed abuser of her son. il It was,” she said,
�21
“but the echo of your own voice. Had you called
out pleasant names, pleasant names had been returned
to you; and all through life, as you give forth to the
world, so shall it be returned unto you.
Amid these ever-present hells and heavens your
child must move—onward from the cradle to the
grave : why give it dismay or hope of heavens and
hells not present ? Do not pour that living heart into
ancient moulds and examples, even the best. While
it has to thread its way through London, why give it
the map of Jerusalem? While it must live high or
low in the nineteenth century, why bid it build for a
distant age or clime? True it is, that a noble and
brave life is worthy to be studied, whether lived mthe
year One or One thousand or in r877 J but its noble
ness is in itself, not in its accidents of time and space,
not in its vesture of name and scenery. When a youth
reads of the fidelity of Phocion, is it that he may
confront Alexander, or withstand the follies oi
Athenians ? It is that he may be true and faithful m
his relations to living men and women. If he fancies
that it is like Phocion to slay the slain, and deal with
dead issues, let him repair to Don Quixote, and see
what comes of fighting phantoms and giants that do
not exist And if the life be that of Christ, the fact is
nowise changed. That life is not yet written ; we have
the figure-head of a Jewish sect, painted to suit itself, and
�22
-called Christ; the figure-head of Gentile sect, painted
to suit itself, and called Christ; and so we have a Greek,
an Alexandrian, a Roman, a Protestant Christ, each
with its sectarian colours and glosses; each an anomaly
.and an impossibility. There is no volume you can put
into the hand of a child, and honestly call the Life of
Christ. The time has not come when that great man
can be brought forth as he really was, to quicken men
instead of supporting prejudice. But where there is
no prejudice instilled, the heart may be trusted to
pick out from the New Testament the record of a
valiant soul, the deeds of a hero, thoughts of a sage,
death of a martyr; and these too will help to idealise
life for the young, and teach them its magnificent
possibilities. Let the child know well that all it reads
of Christ is true of itself. Let him know that all he
reads there or elsewhere which marks that or any
■other life off from human life, as something miracu
lous, is mere fable• and that his own daily life
is passed amid wonders equally great, and conditions
just as sacred and sublime. Ah, how sublime!
What tears are there to be wiped away ; what faces
of agony to which smiles may be called ; what wrongs
to be righted, high causes to be helped; what heights
of excellence to be won—summits all shining with the
saintly souls that have climbed them, and radiant with
the glories of which poets and prophets have dreamed I
�23
That teaching which belittles our own time, and
lowers our powers beneath those of any other, may be
called a religion, but it is a moral blight and a curse.
When we demand of our children the very highest
aims that were ever aspired to, the very truest,
noblest lives ever lived—nor let them be overshadowed
by any names, however great—then shall we see rising
our own prophets and heroes, and see our own world
redeemed by a devotion not wasted on a buried society,
by an enthusiasm no longer lavished on a world for us
unborn.
HYMN 191.
Oh yet we trust that somehow good
Will be the final goal of ill,
To pangs of nature, sins-of will,
Defects of doubt, and taints of blood.
DISMISSAL.
Printed
by waterlow and sons limited,
London wall, London.
�WORKS TO BE OBTAINED IN THE LIBRARY.
BY M. D. CONWAY, M.A.
The Sacred Anthology: A Book
of Ethnical Scriptures.........................
The Earthward Pilgrimage
Do.
do.
Republican Superstitions.........................
Christianity
>.....................................
Human Sacrifices in England ..
David Frederick Strauss.........................
Sterling and Maurice.........................
Intellectual Suicide .
.........................
The First Love again.........................
Our Cause and its Accusers
Alcestis in England
.........................
Unbelief: its nature, cause, and cure ..
Entering Society ..
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Victorian Blogging
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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The religion of children : a discourse, with readings and meditation, given at South Place Chapel, October 21, 1877
Creator
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Conway, Moncure Daniel, 1832-1907
Description
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Place of publication: [London]
Collation: 23, [1] p. ; 15 cm.
Notes: Includes extract from the text of 'The spirit's trials' by J.A. Froude. Printed by Waterlow and Sons Limited, London Wall. With a list of 'works to be obtained in the Library' of South Place Chapel at the end of pamphlet. Part of Morris Miscellaneous Tracts 1.
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[South Place Chapel]
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[1877]
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G3337
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Religion
Education
Child rearing
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<img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /><br /><span>This work (The religion of children : a discourse, with readings and meditation, given at South Place Chapel, October 21, 1877), identified by </span><span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk">Humanist Library and Archives</a></span><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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Text
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English
Child Rearing-Moral and Ethical Aspects
Children
Moral Education
Morris Tracts
Religious Education
-
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PRICE SIXPENCE
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EDUCATION:
INTELLECTUAL, MORAL, AND PHYSICAL
BY
,
Herbert Spencer
WATTS & Co.,.
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EDUCATION
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�BY THE SAME AUTHOR
A SYSTEM OF SYNTHETIC PHILOSOPHY
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�EDUCATION:
INTELLECTUAL, MORAL, AND PHYSICAL
HERBERT SPENCER
If this book is returned to
w. A. FOYLE, 65, GRAND PAR'D.
harringay, n.
WATTS & CO.,
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1903
��PUBLISHERS’ PREFACE
In the preface to the cheap edition of this work, issued
in 1878, the author says :—•
The growing demand for the original edition of these Chapters
on Education has suggested to me the propriety of issuing an
edition that shall come within easy reach of a larger public.
That the work has had considerable currency in the United
States, and that there have been made translations of it into
the French, German, Italian, Russian, Hungarian, Dutch, and
Danish languages, are facts which have further encouraged me to
believe that at home an edition fitted by lower price for wider
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No alterations have been made in the text.
In the absence
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Since then the work has been translated into Spanish,
Swedish, Bohemian, Greek, Japanese, Chinese, Sanskrit,
Arabic, and Bulgarian.
By the consent of Mr. Spencer, the Rationalist
Press Association are now able, by issuing this
■verbatim reprint at a still lower price, to extend the
circulation of these essays yet further.
��J
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
WHAT KNOWLEDGE IS OF MOST WORTH?
•
9
CHAPTER II.
INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION
-
40
-
69
CHAPTER III.
MORAL EDUCATION
....
CHAPTER IV.
PHYSICAL EDUCATION
92
i
J
1
1
1
�EDUCATION AT ETON, 1842-5
“ Balston, our tutor, was a good scholar after the fashion of the day,
and famous for Latin verse; but he was essentially a commonplace
don. ‘ Stephen major,’ he once said to my brother, 1 if you do not
take more pains, how can you ever expect to write good longs and
shorts ? If you do not write good longs and shorts, how can you
ever be a man of taste? If you are not a man of taste, how can
you ever hope to be of use in the world ?’ ”
( The Life of Sir Tames Fitzjames Stephen, Bart., by his brother, Leslie Stephen,
pp. 80-1.)
�EDUCATION
CHAPTER I.
WHAT KNOWLEDGE IS OF MOST WORTH ?
It has been truly remarked that, in
order of time, decoration precedes dress.
Among people who submit to great physi
cal suffering that they may have themselves
handsomely tattooed, extremes of tempera
ture are borne with but little attempt at
mitigation. Humboldt tells us that an
Orinoco Indian, though quite regardless
of bodily comfort, will yet labour for a
fortnight to purchase pigment wherewith
to make himself admired; and that the
same woman who would not hesitate to
leave her hut without a fragment of
clothing on, would not dare to commit
such a breach of decorum as to go out
unpainted. Voyagers find that coloured
beads and trinkets are much more prized
by wild tribes, than are calicoes or
broadcloths. And the anecdotes we have
of the ways in which, when shirts and
coats are given, savages turn them to
some ludicrous display, show how com
pletely the idea of ornament predominates
over that of use. Nay, there are still
more extreme illustrations : witness the
fact narrated by Capt. Speke of his
African attendants, who strutted about
in their goat-skin mantles when the
weather was fine, but when it was wet,
took them off, folded them up, and went
about naked, shivering in the rain!
Indeed, the facts of aboriginal life seem
to indicate that dress is developed out
of decorations. And when we remember
that even among ourselves most think
more about the fineness of the fabric
than its warmth, and more about the cut
than the convenience—when we see that
the function is still in great measure
subordinated to the appearance — we
have further reason for inferring such an
origin.
It is curious that the like relations
hold with the mind. Among mental
as among bodily acquisitions, the orna
mental comes before the useful. Not
only in times past, but almost as much
in our own era, that knowledge which
conduces to personal well-being has been
postponed to that which brings applause.
In the Greek schools, music, poetry,
rhetoric, and a philosophy which, until
Socrates taught, had but little bearing
upon action, were the dominant subjects ;
while knowledge aiding the arts of life
had a very subordinate place. And in
our own universities and schools at the
present moment, the like antithesis holds.
We are guilty of something like a plati
tude when we say that throughout his
after-career, a boy, in nine cases out of
ten, applies his Latin and Greek to no
practical purposes. The remark is trite
that in his shop, or his office, in managing
- his estate or his family, in playing his
part as director of a bank or a railway,
he is very little aided by this knowledge
he took so many years to acquire—so
�IO
EDUCATION
little, that generally the greater part of it
drops out of his memory; and if he
occasionally vents a Latin quotation, or
alludes to some Greek myth, it is less to
throw light on the topic in hand than
for the sake of effect. If we inquire
what is the real motive for giving boys a
classical education, we find it to be
simply conformity to public opinion.
Men dress their children’s minds as they
do their bodies, in the prevailing fashion.
As the Orinoco Indian puts on paint
before leaving his hut, not with a view
to any direct benefit, but because he
would be ashamed to be seen without
it; so, a boy’s drilling in Latin and
Greek is insisted on, not because of
their intrinsic value, but that he may not
be disgraced by being found ignorant of
them—that he may have “the education
of a gentleman ”—the badge marking a
certain social position, and bringing a
consequent respect.
This parallel is still more clearly
displayed in the case of the other sex.
In the treatment of both mind and body,
the decorative element has continued to
predominate in a greater degree among
women than among men. Originally,
personal adornment occupied the atten
tion of both sexes equally. In these
latter days of civilisation, however, we
see that in the dress of men the regard
for appearance has in a considerable
degree yielded to the regard for comfort;
while in their education the useful has
of late been trenching on the ornamental.
In neither direction has this change
gone so far with women. The wearing
of ear-rings, finger-rings, bracelets; the
elaborate dressings of the hair; the
still occasional use of paint; the
immense labour bestowed in making
habiliments sufficiently attractive; and
the great discomfort that will be sub
mitted to for the sake of conformity;
show how greatly, in the attiring of
women, the desire of approbation over
rides the desire for warmth and con
venience. And similarly in their educa
tion, the immense preponderance of
“ accomplishments ” proves how here,
too, use is subordinated to display.
Dancing, deportment, the piano, singing,
drawing—what a large space do these
occupy 1 If you ask why Italian and
German are learnt, you will find that,
under all the sham reasons given, the
real reason is, that a knowledge of those
tongues is thought ladylike. It is not
that the books written in them may be
utilised, which they scarcely ever are ;
but that Italian and German songs may
be sung, and that the extent of attainment
may bring whispered admiration. The
births, deaths, and marriages of kings,
and other like historic trivialities, are
committed to memory, not because of
any direct benefits that can possibly
result from knowing them ; but because
society considers them parts of a good
education—because the absence of such
knowledge may bring the contempt of
others. When we have named reading,
writing, spelling, grammar, arithmetic,
and sewing, we have named about all
the things a girl is taught with a view
to their actual uses in life; and even
some of these have more reference to
the good opinion of others than to
immediate personal welfare.
Thoroughly to realise the truth that
with the mind as with the body the
ornamental precedes the useful, it is
requisite to glance at its rationale. This
lies in the fact that, from the far past
down even to the present, social needs
have subordinated individual needs,
and that the chief social need has been
the control of individuals. It is not, as
we commonly suppose, that there are no
governments but those of monarchs, and
�WHAT KNOWLEDGE IS OF MOST WORTH?
parliaments, and constituted authorities.
These acknowledged governments are
supplemented by other unacknowledged
ones, that grow up in all circles, in which
every man or woman strives to be king
or queen or lesser dignitary. To get
above some and be reverenced by them,
and to propitiate those who are above
us, is the universal struggle in which the
chief energies of life are expended. By
the accumulation of wealth, by style of
living, by beauty of dress, by display of
knowledge of intellect, each tries to
subjugate others; and so aids in weaving
that ramified network of restraints by
which society is kept in order. It is not
the savage chief only, who, in formidable
war-paint, with scalps at his belt, aims
to strike awe into his inferiors; it is not
only the belle who, by elaborate toilet,
polished manners, and numerous accom
plishments, strives to “make conquests ”;
but the scholar, the historian, the philo
sopher, use their acquirements to the
same end. We are none of us content
with quietly unfolding our own indivi
dualities to the full in all directions; but
have a restless craving to impress our
individualities upon others, and in some
way subordinate them. And this it is
which determines the character of our
education. Not what knowledge is of
most real worth, is the consideration;
but what will bring most applause,
honour, respect—what will most conduce
to social position and influence—what
will be most imposing. As, throughout
life, not what we are, but what we shall
be thought, is the question; so in
education, the question is, not the
intrinsic value of knowledge, so much
as its extrinsic effects on others. And
this being our dominant idea, direct
utility is scarcely more regarded than by
the barbarian when filing his teeth and
staining his nails.
ii
If there requires further evidence of
the rude, undeveloped character of
our education, we have it in the fact
that the comparative worths of different
kinds of knowledge have been as yet
scarcely even discussed — much less
discussed in a methodic way with
definite results. Not only is it that no
standard of relative values has yet been
agreed upon; but the existence of any
such standard has not been conceived in
a clear manner. And not only is it
that the existence of such a standard
has not been clearly conceived : but the
need for it seems to have been scarcely
even felt. Men read books on this topic,
and attend lectures on that; decide that
their children shall be instructed in
these branches of knowledge, and shall
not be instructed in those; and all under
the guidance of mere custom, or liking,
or prejudice; without ever considering
the enormous importance of determining
in some rational way what things are
really most worth learning. It is true
that in all circles we hear occasional
remarks on the importance of this or the
other order of information. But whether
the degree of its importance justifies
the expenditure of the time needed to
acquire it; and whether there are not
things of more importance to which
such time might be better devoted; are
queries which, if raised at all, are dis
posed of quite summarily, according to
personal predilections. It is true also,
that now and then, we hear revived the
standing controversy respecting the com
parative merits of classics and mathe
matics. This controversy, however, is
carried on in an empirical manner, with
no reference to an ascertained criterion;
and the question at issue is insignificant
when compared with the general question
of which it is part. To suppose that
�12
EDUCATION
deciding whether a mathematical or a
classical education is the best, is deciding
what is the proper curriculum, is much the
same thing as to suppose that the whole
of dietetics lies in ascertaining whether or
not bread is more nutritive than potatoes!
The question which we contend is of
such transcendent moment, is, not
whether such or such knowledge is of
worth, but what is its relative worth?
When they have named certain advan
tages which a given course of study has
secured them, persons are apt to assume
that they have justified themselves :
quite forgetting that the adequateness
of the advantages is the point to be
judged. There is, perhaps, not a subject
to which men devote attention that has
not some value. A year diligently spent
in getting up heraldry, would very
possibly give a little further insight into
ancient manners and morals. Any one
who should learn the distances between
all the towns in England, might, in the
course of his life, find one or two of the
thousand facts he had acquired of some
slight service when arranging a journey.
Gathering together all the small gossip
of a county, profitless occupation as it
would be, might yet occasionally help to
establish some useful fact—say, a good
example of hereditary transmission. But
in these cases, every one would admit
that there was no proportion between
the required labour and the probable
benefit.
No one would tolerate the
proposal to devote some years of a boy’s
time to getting such information, at the
cost of much more valuable information
which he might else have got. And if
here the test of relative value is appealed
to and held conclusive, then should it be
appealed to and held conclusive through
out. Had we time to master all subjects
we need not be particular. To quote
the old song
Could a man be secure
That his days would endure
As of old, for a thousand long years,
What things might he know !
What deeds might he do !
And all without hurry or care.
“But we that have but span-long lives”
must ever bear in mind our limited time
for acquisition. And remembering how
narrowly this time is limited, not only
by the shortness of life, but also still
more by the business of life, we ought
to be especially solicitous to employ what
time we have to the greatest advantage.
Before devoting years to some subject
which fashion or fancy suggests, it is
surely wise to weigh with great care the
worth of the results, as compared with
the worth of various alternative results
which the same years might bring if
otherwise applied.
In education, then, this is the question
of questions, which it is high time we
discussed in some methodic way. The
first in importance, though the last to be
considered, is the problem—how to
decide among the conflicting claims of
various subjects on our attention. Before
there can be a rational curriculum, we
must settle which things it most concerns
us to know; or, to use a word of Bacon’s,
now unfortunately obsolete—we must
determine the relative values of know
ledges.
To this end, a measure of value is the
first requisite. And happily, respecting
the true measure of value, as expressed
in general terms, there can be no dispute.
Everyone, in contending for the worth of
any particular order of information, does
so by showing its bearing upon some part
of life. In reply to the question—“ Of
what use is it ?” the mathematician,
linguist, naturalist, or philosopher, ex
plains the way in which his learning
beneficially influences action—saves from
�WHAT KNOWLEDGE IS OF MOST WORTH?
evil or secures good—conduces to happi
ness. When the teacher of writing has
pointed out how great an aid writing is
to success in business—that is, to the
obtainment of sustenance—that is, to
satisfactory living; he is held to have
proved his case. And when the collector
of dead facts (say a numismatist) fails to
make clear any appreciable effects which
these facts can produce on human
welfare, he is obliged to admit that they
are comparatively valueless. All then,
either directly or by implication, appeal
to this as the ultimate test.
How to live ?—that is the essential
question for us. Not how to live in the
mere material sense only, but in the
widest sense. The general problem
which comprehends every special problem
is—the right ruling of conduct in all
directions under all circumstances. In
what way to treat the body; in what
way to treat the mind; in what way to
manage our affairs ; in what way to bring
up a family; in what way to behave as
a citizen; in what way to utilise those
sources of happiness which nature
supplies—how to use all our faculties
to the greatest advantage of ourselves
and others—how to live completely ?
And this being the great thing needful
for us to learn, is, by consequence, the
great thing which education has to teach.
To prepare us for complete living is the
function which education has to dis
charge ; and the only rational mode of
judging of an educational course is, to
judge in what degree it discharges such
function.
• This test, never used in its entirety,
but rarely even partially used, and used
then in a vague, half conscious way, has
to be applied consciously, methodically,
and throughout all cases. It behoves us
to set before ourselves, and ever to keep
clearly in view, complete living as the
13
end to be achieved; so that in bringing
up our children we may choose subjects
and methods of instruction, with deli
berate reference to this end. Not only
ought we to cease from the mere unthink
ing adoption of the current fashion in
education, which has no better warrant
than any other fashion; but we must
also rise above that rude, empirical style
of judging displayed by those more intel
ligent people who do bestow some care
in overseeing the cultivation of their
children’s minds. It must not suffice
simply to think that such or such infor
mation will be useful in after life, or that
this kind of knowledge is of more prac
tical value than that; but we must seek
out some process of estimating their
respective values, so that as far as possible
we may positively know which are most
deserving of attention.
Doubtless the task is difficult—perhaps
never to be more than approximately
achieved. But, considering the vastness
of the interests at stake, its difficulty is
no reason for pusillanimously passing it
by; but rather for devoting every energy
to its mastery. And if we only proceed
systematically, we may very soon get at
results of no small moment.
Our first step must obviously be to
classify, in the order of their importance,
the leading kinds of activity which con
stitute human life. They may be naturally
arranged into :—1. those activities which
directly minister to self-preservation; 2.
those activities which, by securing the
necessaries of life, indirectly minister to
self-preservation; 3. those activities which
have for their end the rearing and dis
cipline of offspring; 4. those activities
which are involved in the maintenance
of proper social and political relations;
5. those miscellaneous activities which
fill up the leisure part of life, devoted to
the gratification of the tastes and feelings.
�14
EDUCATION
That these stand in something like
their true order of subordination, it needs
no long consideration to show. The
actions and precautions by which, from
moment to moment, we secure personal
safety, must clearly take precedence of all
others. Could there be a man, ignorant
as an infant of surrounding objects and
movements, or how to guide himself
among them, he would pretty certainly
lose his life the first time he went into
the street; notwithstanding any amount
of learning he might have on other
matters. And as entire ignorance in all
other directions would be less promptly
fatal than entire ignorance in this direc
tion, it must be admitted that knowledge
immediately conducive to self-preserva
tion is of primary importance.
That next after direct self-preservation
comes the indirect self-preservation which
consists in acquiring the means of living,
none will question. That a man’s indus
trial functions must be considered before
his parental ones, is manifest from the
fact that, speaking generally, the dis
charge of the parental functions is made
possible only by the previous discharge
of the industrial ones. The power of
self-maintenance necessarily preceding
the power of maintaining offspring, it
follows that knowledge needful for self
maintenance has stronger claims than
knowledge needful for family welfare—
is second in value to none save know
ledge needful for immediate self-preser
vation.
As the family comes before the State
in order of time—as the bringing up of
children is possible before the State
exists, or when it has ceased to be,
whereas the State is rendered possible
only by the bringing up of children; it
follows that the duties of the parent
demanti closer attention than those of
the citizen. Or, to use a further argu
ment—since the goodness of a society
ultimately depends on the nature of its
citizens; and since the nature of its
citizens is more modifiable by early train
ing than by anything else; we must
conclude that the welfare of the family
underlies the welfare of society. And
hence knowledge directly conducing to
the first, must take precedence of know
ledge directly conducing to the last.
Those various forms of pleasurable
occupation which fill up the leisure left
by graver occupations—the enjoyments
of music, poetry, painting, etc.—mani
festly imply a pre-existing society. Not
only is a considerable development of
them impossible without a long-estab
lished social union; but their very sub
ject-matter consists in great part of social
sentiments and sympathies. Not only
does society supply the conditions to
their growth; but also the ideas and
sentiments they express. And, conse
quently, that part of human conduct
which constitutes good citizenship, is of
more moment than that which goes out
in accomplishments or exercise of the
tastes; and, in education, preparation
for the one must rank before preparation
for the other.
Such then, we repeat, is something
like the rational order of subordination:—
That education which prepares for direct
self-preservation; that which prepares for
indirect self-preservation; that which
prepares for parenthood; that which pre
pares for citizenship ; that which prepares
for the miscellaneous refinements of life.
We do not mean to say that these
divisions are definitely separable. We
do not deny that they are intricately
entangled with each other, in such way
that there can be no training for any that
is not in some measure a training for all.
Nor do we question that of each division
there are portions more important than
�WHAT KNOWLEDGE IS OF MOST WORTH?
certain portions of the preceding divi
sions : that, for instance, a man of much
skill in business but little other faculty,
may fall further below the standard of
complete living than one of but moderate
ability in money-getting but great judg
ment as a parent; or that exhaustive
information bearing on right social
action, joined with entire want of general
culture in literature and the fine arts, is
less desirable than a more moderate
share of the one joined with some of the
other. But, after making due qualifica
tions, there still remain these broadlymarked divisions; and it still continues
substantially true that these divisions
subordinate one another in the foregoing
order, because the corresponding divi
sions of life make one another possible in
that order.
Of course the ideal of education is—
complete preparation in all these divi
sions. But failing this ideal, as in our
phase of civilisation every one must do
more or less, the aim should be to main
tain a due proportion between the degrees
of preparation in each. Not exhaustive
cultivation in any one, supremely impor
tant though it may be—not even an ex
clusive attention to the two, three, or
four divisions of greatest importance;
but an attention to all;—greatest where
the value is greatest; less where the
value is less; least where the value is
least.
For the average man (not to
forget the cases in which peculiar apti
tude for some one department of know
ledge, rightly makes pursuit of that one
the bread-winning occupation)—for the
average man, we say, the desideratum is,
a training that approaches nearest to
perfection in the things which most sub
serve complete living, and falls more and
more below perfection in the things that
have more and more remote bearings on
complete living.
15
In regulating education by this stan
dard, there are some general considera
tions that should be ever present to us.
The worth of any kind of culture, as
aiding complete living, may be ‘either
necessary or more or less contingent.
There is knowledge of intrinsic value;
knowledge of quasi-intrinsic value ; and
knowledge of conventional value. Such
facts as that sensations of numbness and
tingling commonly precede paralysis,
that the resistance of water to a body
moving through it varies as the square of
the velocity, that chlorine is a disinfec
tant—these, and the truths of Science in
general, are of intrinsic value; they will
bear on human conduct ten thousand
years hence as they do now. The extra
knowledge of our own language, which
is given by an acquaintance with Latin
and Greek, may be considered to have a
value that is quasi-intrinsic: it must exist
for us and for other races whose lan
guages owe much to these sources; but
will last only as long as our languages
last. While that kind of information
which, in our schools, usurps the name
History—the mere tissue ci names and
dates and dead unmeaning events—has
a conventional value only : it has not
the remotest bearing on any of our
actions; and is of use only for the avoid
ance of those unpleasant criticisms
which current opinion passes upon its
absence. Of course, as those facts which
concern all mankind throughout all time
must be held of greater moment than
those which concern only a portion of
them during a limited era, and of far
greater moment than those which con
cern only a portion of them during the
continuance of a fashion; it follows that in
a rational estimate, knowledge of intrinsic
worth must, other things equal, take pre
cedence of knowledge, that is of quasiintrinsic or conventional worth.
�i6
EDUCATION
One further preliminary. Acquirement
of every kind has two values—value as
knowledge and value as discipline. Besides
its use for guiding conduct, the acqui
sition of each order of facts has also its
use as mental exercise; and its effects as
a preparative for complete living have to
be considered under both these heads.
These, then, are the general ideas with
which we must set out in discussing a
curriculum:—Life as divided into several
kinds of activity of successively decreas
ing importance; the worth of each order
of facts as regulating these several kinds
of activity, intrinsically, quasi-intrinsically,
and conventionally ; and their regulative
influences estimated both as knowledge
and discipline.
these, and various other pieces of infor
mation needful for the avoidance of
death or accident, it is ever learning.
And when, a few years later, the energies
go out in running, climbing, and jump
ing, in games of strength and games of
skill, we see in all these actions by which
the muscles are developed, the percep
tions sharpened, and the judgment
quickened, a preparation for the safe
conduct of the body among surrounding
objects and movements; and for meeting
those greater dangers that occasionally
occur in the lives of all. Being thus,
as we say, so well cared for by Nature,
this fundamental education needs com
paratively little care from us. What we are
chiefly called upon to see, is, that there
shall be free scope for gaining this
Happily, that all-important part of experience and receiving this discipline
education "which goes to secure direct —that there shall be no such thwarting
self-preservation, is in great part already of Nature as that by which stupid school
provided for. Too momentous to be left mistresses commonly prevent the girls in
to our blundering, Nature takes it into their charge from the spontaneous physi
her own hands. While yet in its nurse’s cal activities they would indulge in; and
arms, the infant, by hiding its face and so render them comparatively incapable
crying at the sight of a stranger, shows of taking care of themselves in circum
the dawning instinct to attain safety by stances of peril.
flying from that which is unknown and
This, however, is by no means all that
may be dangerous; and when it can is comprehended in the education that
walk, the terror it manifests if an un prepares for direct self-preservation.
familiar dog comes near, or the screams Besides guarding the body against
with which it runs to its mother, after mechanical damage or destruction, it
any startling sight or sound, shows this has to be guarded against injury from
instinct further developed. Moreover,
other causes—against the disease and
knowledge subserving direct self-preser death that follow breaches of physiologic
vation is that which it is chiefly busied law. For complete living it is necessary,
in acquiring from hour to hour. How not only that sudden annihilations of
to balance its body; how to control its life shall be warded off; but also that
movements so as to avoid collisions : there shall be escaped the incapacities
what objects are hard, and will hurt if and the slow annihilation which unwise
struck; what objects are heavy, and in habits entail. As, without health and
jure if they fall on the limbs; which energy, the industrial, the parental, the
things will bear the weight of the body,
social, and all other activities become
and which not; the pains inflicted by more or less impossible ; it is clear
fire, by missiles, by sharp instruments— that this secondary kind of direct self
�WHAT KNOWLEDGE IS OF MOST WORTH?
preservation is only less important than
the primary kind; and that knowledge
tending to secure it should rank very
high.
It is true that here, too, guidance is
in some measure ready supplied. By
our various physical sensations and
desires, Nature has insured a tolerable
conformity to the chief requirements.
Fortunately for us, want of food, great
heat, extreme cold, produce promptings
too peremptory to be disregarded. And
would men habitually obey these and all
like promptings when less strong, com
paratively few evils would arise. If
fatigue of body or brain were in every
case followed by desistance; if the
oppression produced by a close atmos
phere always led to ventilation ; if there
were no eating without hunger, or drink
ing without thirst; then would the
system be but seldom out of working
order. But so profound an ignorance is
there of the laws of life, that men do not
even know that their sensations are their
natural guides, and (when not rendered
morbid by long-continued disobedience)
their trustworthy guides. So that though,
to speak teleologically, Nature has pro
vided efficient safeguards to health, lack
of knowledge makes them in a great
measure useless.
If any one doubts the importance of
an acquaintance with the principles of
physiology,as a means to complete living,
let him look around and see how many
men and women he can find in middle
or later life who are thoroughly well.
Only occasionally do we meet with an
example of vigorous health continued
to old age; hourly we meet with
examples of acute disorder, chronic
ailment, general debility, premature
‘decrepitude. Scarcely is there one to
whom you put the question, who has
not, in the course of his life, brought
17
upon himself illnesses which a little in
formation would have saved him from.
Here is a case of heart-disease consequent
on a rheumatic fever that followed reck
less exposure. There is a case of eyes
spoiled for life by over-study. Yesterday
the account was of one whose longenduring lameness was brought on by
continuing, spite of the pain, to use a
knee after it had been slightly injured.
And to-day we are told of another who
has had to lie by for years, because he
did not know that the palpitation he
suffered under resulted from overtaxed
brain. Now we hear of an irremediable
injury which followed some silly feat of
strength; and, again, of a constitution
that has never recovered from the effects
of excessive work needlessly undertaken.
While on every side we see the perpetual
minor ailments which accompany feeble
ness. Not to dwell on the pain, the
weariness, the gloom, the waste of time
and money thus entailed, only consider
how greatly ill-health hinders the dis
charge of all duties—makes business
often impossible, and always more diffi
cult ; produces an irritability fatal to the
right management of children; puts the
functions of citizenship out of the
question; and makes amusement a bore.
Is it not clear that the physical sins—
partly our forefathers’ and partly our own
—which produce this ill-health, deduct
more from complete living than anything
else ? and to a great extent make life a
failure and a burden instead of a bene
faction and a pleasure ?
Nor is this all. Life, besides being
thus immensely deteriorated, is also cut
short. It is not true, as we commonly
suppose, that after a disorder or disease
from which we have recovered, we are
as before. No disturbance of the normal
course of the functions can pass away
and leave things exactly as they were.
�ï8
EDUCATION
A permanent damage is done—not
immediately appreciable, it may be, but
still there; and along with other such
items which Nature in her strict account
keeping never drops, it will tell against
us to the inevitable shortening of our
days.
Through the accumulation of
small injuries it is that constitutions are
commonly undermined, and break down,
long before their time. And if we call
to mind how far the average .duration of
life falls below the possible duration, we
see how immense is the loss. When,
to the numerous partial deductions which
bad health entails, we add this great
final deduction, it results that ordinarily
one-half of life is thrown away.
Hence, knowledge which subserves
direct self-preservation by preventing
this loss of health, is of primary import
ance. We do not contend that possession
of such knowledge would by any means
wholly remedy the evil. It is clear that
in our present phase of civilisation, men’s
necessities often compel them to trans
gress. And it is further clear that, even
in the absence of such compulsion, their
inclinations would frequently lead them,
spite of their convictions, to sacrifice
future good to present gratification. But
we do contend that the right knowledge
impressed in the right way would effect
much ; and we further contend that as
the laws of health must be recognised
before they can be fully conformed to,
the imparting of such knowledge must
precede a more rational living—come
when that may. We infer that as vigorous
health and its accompanying high spirits
are larger elements of happiness than any
other things whatever, the teaching how to
maintain them is a teaching that yields
in moment to no other whatever. And
therefore we assert that such a course of
physiology as is needful for the compre
hension of its general truths, and their
bearings on daily conduct, is an all
essential part of a rational education.
Strange that the assertion should need
making! Stranger still that it should
need defending! Yet are there not a
few by whom such a proposition will be
received with something approaching to
derision.
Men who would blush if
caught saying Iphigenia instead of
Iphigenia, or would resent as an insult
any imputation of ignorance respecting
the fabled labours of a fabled demi-god,
show not the slightest shame in confess
ing that they do not know where the
Eustachian tubes are, what are the
actions of the spinal cord, what is
the normal rate of pulsation, or how the
lungs are inflated. While anxious that
their sons should be well up in the
superstitions of two thousand years ago,
they care not that they should be taught
anything about the structure and func
tions of their own bodies—nay, even wish
them not to be so taught. So overwhelm
ing is the influence of established routine !
So terribly in our education does the
ornamental over-ride the useful 1
We need not insist on the value of
that knowledge which aids indirect self
preservation by facilitating the gaining
of a livelihood. This is admitted by all;
and, indeed, by the mass is perhaps too
exclusively regarded as the end of
education. But while every one is ready
to endorse the abstract proposition that
instruction fitting youths for the bus'ness
of life is of high importance, or even
to consider it of supreme importance;
yet scarcely any inquire what instruction
will so fit them. It is true that reading,
writing, and arithmetic are taught with
an intelligent appreciation of their uses.
But when we have said this we have said
nearly all. While the great bulk of what
else is acquired has no bearing on the
industrial activities, an immensity of
�WHAT KNOWLEDGE IS OE MOST WORTH?
information that has a direct bearing on
the industrial activities is entirely passed
over.
For, leaving out only some very small
classes, what are all men employed in ?
They are employed in the production,
preparation and distribution of com
modities. And on what does efficiency
in the production, preparation, and dis
tribution of commodities depend ? It
depends on the use of methods fitted to
the respective natures of these com
modities ; it depends on an adequate
acquaintance with their physical, chemi
cal, and vital properties, as the case may
be ; that is, it depends on Science. This
order of knowledge which is in great
part ignored in our school-courses, is the
order of knowledge underlying the right
performance of those processes by which
civilised life is made possible. Undeni
able as is this truth, there seems to be
no living consciousness of it: its very
familiarity makes it unregarded. To
give due weight to our argument, we
must, therefore, realise this truth to the
reader by a rapid review of the facts.
Passing over the most abstract science,
Logic, on the due guidance by which,
however, the large producer or distributor
depends, knowingly or unknowingly, for
success in his business-forecasts, we come
first to Mathematics. Of this, the most
general division, dealing with number,
guides all industrial activities : be they
those by which processes are adjusted,
or estimates framed, or commodities
bought and sold, or accounts kept. No
one needs to have the value of this
division of abstract science insisted upon.
For the higher arts of construction,
some acquaintance with the more special
division of Mathematics is indispensable.
The village carpenter, who lays out his
work by empirical rules, equally with the
builder of a Britannia Bridge, makes
I?
hourly reference to the laws of space
relations. The surveyor who measures
the land purchased; the architect in
designing a mansion to be built on it;
the builder when laying out the founda
tions ; the masons in cutting the stones ;
and the various artizans who put up the
fittings ; are all guided by geometrical
truths. Railway-making is regulated from
beginning to end by geometry ; alike in
the preparation of plans and sections ; in
staking out the line ; in the mensuration
of cuttings and embankments ; in the
designing and building of bridges,
culverts, viaducts, tunnels, stations.
Similarly with the harbours, docks,
piers, and various engineering and
architectural works that fringe the coasts
and overspread the country, as -well as
the mines that run underneath it. And
now-a-days, even the farmer, for the
correct laying-out of his drains, has
recourse to the level—that is, to
geometrical principles.
Turn next to the Abstract-Concrete
sciences. On the application of the
simplest of these, Mechanics, depends
the success of modem manufactures.
The properties of the lever, the wheeland-axle, etc., are recognised in every
machine, and to machinery in these
times we owe all production. Trace the
history of the breakfast-roll. The soil
out of which it came was drained with
machine-made tiles; the surface was
turned over by a machine ; the wheat
was reaped, thrashed, and winnowed by
machines ; by machinery it was ground
and bolted ; and had the flour been sent
to Gosport, it might have been made
into biscuits by a machine. Look round
the room in which you sit. If modern,
probably the bricks in its walls were
machine-made ; and by machinery the
flooring was sawn and planed, the
mantel-shelf sawn and polished, the
�2Cf
EDUCATION
paper-hangings made and printed. The
veneer on the table, the turned legs of
the chairs, the carpet, the curtains, are
all products of machinery. Your clothing
—plain, figured, or printed—is it not
wholly woven, nay, perhaps even sewed,
by machinery ? And the volume you
are reading—are not its leaves fabricated
by one machine and covered with these
words by another ? Add to which that
for the means of distribution over both
land and sea, we are similarly indebted.
And then observe that according as
knowledge of mechanics is well or ill
applied to these ends, comes success or
failure. The engineer who miscalculates
the strength of materials, builds a bridge
that breaks down. The manufacturer
who uses a bad machine cannot compete
with another whose machine wastes less
in friction and inertia. The ship-builder
adhering to the old model, is outsailed
by one who builds on the mechanicallyjustified wave-line principle. And as the
ability of a nation to hold its own against
other nations, depends on the skilled
activity of its units, we see that on
mechanical knowledge may turn the
national fate.
On ascending from the divisions of
Abstract-Concrete science dealing with
molar forces, to those divisions of it
which deal with molecular forces, we
come to another vast series of applica
tions. To this group of sciences joined
with the preceding groups we owe the
steam-engine, which does the work
of millions of labourers. That section
of physics which formulates the laws of
heat, has taught us how to economise
fuel in various industries : how to increase
the produce of smelting furnaces by
substituting the hot for the cold blast ;
how to ventilate mines ; how to prevent
explosions by using the safety-lamp ; and,
through the thermometer, how to regulate
innumerable processes. That section
which has the phenomena of light for its
subject, gives eyes to the old and the
myopic; aids through the microscope in
detecting diseases and adulterations;
and, by improved lighthouses, prevents
shipwrecks. Researches in electricity
and magnetism have saved innumerable
lives and incalculable property through
the compass ; have subserved many arts
by the electrotype; and now, in the
telegraph, have supplied us with an
agency by which, for the future, mercan
tile transactions will be regulated and
political intercourse carried on. While
in the details of indoor life, from the
improved kitchen-range up to the stereo
scope on the drawing-room table, the
applications of advanced physics under
lie our comforts and gratifications.
Still more numerous are the applica
tions of Chemistry. The bleacher, the
dyer, the calico-printer, are severally
occupied in processes that are well or ill
done according as they do or do not
conform to chemical laws. Smelting of
copper, tin, zinc, lead, silver, iron, must
be guided by chemistry. Sugar-refining,
gas-making, soap-boiling, gunpowder
manufacture, are operations all partly
chemical, as are likewise those which
produce glass and porcelain. Whether
the distiller’s wort stops at the alcoholic
fermentation or passes into the acetous,
is a chemical question on which hangs
his profit or loss; and the brewer, if his
business is extensive, finds it pay to keep
a chemist on his premises. Indeed, there
is now scarcely any manufacture over
some part of which chemistry does not
preside. Nay, in these times even agri
culture, to be profitably carried on, must
have like guidance. The analysis of
manures and soils; the disclosure of
their respective adaptations; the use of
gypsum or other substances for fixing
�WHAT KNOWLEDGE IS OF MOST WORTH?
ammonia; the utilisation of coprolites;
the production of artificial manures—all
these are boons of chemistry which it
behoves the farmer to acquaint himself
with. Be it in the lucifer match, or in
disinfected sewage, or in photographs—
in bread made without fermentation, or
perfumes extracted from refuse, we may
perceive that chemistry affects all our
industries; and that, therefore, knowledge
of it concerns every one who is directly or
indirectly connected with our industries.
Of the Concrete sciences, we come first
to Astronomy. Out of this has grown
that art of navigation which has made
possible the enormous foreign commerce
that supports a large part of our popula
tion, while supplying us with many neces
saries and most of our luxuries.
Geology, again, is a science knowledge
of which greatly aids industrial success.
Now that iron ores are so large a source
of wealth ; now that the duration of our
coal-supply has become a question of
great interest; now that we have a College
of Mines and a Geological Survey , it is
scarcely needful to enlarge on the truth
that the study of the Earth’s crust is
important to our material welfare.
And then the science of life—Biology:
does not this, too, bear fundamentally on
these processes of indirect self-preserva
tion ? With what we ordinarily call
manufactures, it has, indeed, little con
nection ; but with the all-essential manu
facture—that of food—it is inseparably
connected. As agriculture must conform
its methods to the phenomena of vegetal
and animal life, it follows that the science
of these phenomena is the rational basis
of agriculture. Various biological truths
have indeed been empirically established
and acted upon by farmers, while yet
there has been no conception of them as
science; such as that particular manures
are suited to particular plants; that crops
21
of certain kinds unfit the soil for other
crops ; that horses cannot do good work
on poor food ; that such and such diseases
of cattle and sheep are caused by such
and such conditions. These, and the
every-day knowledge which the agri
culturist gains by experience respecting
the management of plants and animals,
constitute his stock of biological facts ;
on the largeness of which greatly depends
his success. And as these biological
facts, scanty, indefinite, rudimentary,
though they are, aid him so essentially ;
judge what must be the value to him of
such facts when they become positive,
definite, and exhaustive. Indeed, even
now we may see the benefits that rational
biology is conferring on him. The truth
that the production of animal heat implies
waste of substance, and that, therefore,
preventing loss of heat prevents the need
for extra food—a purely theoretical con
clusion—now guides the fattening of
cattle : it is found that by keeping cattle
warm, fodder is saved. Similarly with
respect to variety of food. The experi
ments of physiologists have shown that
not only is change of diet beneficial, but
that digestion is facilitated by a mixture
of ingredients in each meal. The dis
covery that a disorder known as “ the
staggers,” of which many thousands of
sheep have died annually, is caused by
an entozoon which presses on the brain,
and that if the creature is extracted
through the softened place in the skull
which marks its position, the sheep
usually recovers, is another debt which
agriculture owes to biology.
Yet one more science have we to note
as bearing directly on industrial success
—the Science of Society. Men who
daily look at the state of the moneymarket ; glance over prices current ; dis
cuss the probable crops of corn, cotton,
sugar, wool, silk ; weigh the chances of
�22
EDUCATION
war; and from these data decide on
their mercantile operations; are students
of social science ; empirical and blunder
ing students it may be; but still, students
who gain the prizes or are plucked of
their profits, according as they do or do
not reach the right conclusion. Not only
the manufacturer and the merchant must
guide their transactions by calculations
of supply and demand, based on numerous
facts, and tacitly recognising sundry
general principles of social action ; but
even the retailer must do the like; his
prosperity very greatly depending upon
the correctness of his judgments respect
ing the future wholesale prices and the
future rates of consumption. Manifestly,
whoever takes part in the entangled
commercial activities of a community, is
vitally interested in understanding the
laws according to which those activities
vary.
Thus, to all such as are occupied in
the production, exchange, or distribution
of commodities, acquaintance with
Science in some of its departments, is of
fundamental importance.
Each man
who is immediately or remotely impli
cated in any form of industry, (and few
are not,) has in some way to deal with
the mathematical, physical, and chemical
properties of things; perhaps, also, has
a direct interest in biology ; and certainly
has in sociology. Whether he does or
does not succeed well in that indirect
self-preservation which we call getting a
good livelihood, depends in a great
degree on his knowledge of one or more
of these sciences: not, it may be, a
rational knowledge; but still a know
ledge, though empirical. For what we
call learning a business, really implies
learning the science involved in it;
though not perhaps under the name of
science. And hence a grounding in
science is of great importance, both
because it prepares for all this, and
because rational knowledge has an im
mense superiority over empirical know
ledge. Moreover, not only is scientific
culture requisite for each, that he may
understand the how and the why of the
things and processes with which he is
concerned as maker or distributor; but
it is often of much moment that he
should understand the how and the why
of various other things and processes.
In this age of joint-stock undertakings,
nearly every man above the labourer is
interested as capitalist in some other
occupation than his own ; and, as thus
interested, his profit or loss depends on
his knowledge of the sciences bearing on
this other occupation. Here is a mine,
in the sinking of which many shareholders
ruined themselves, from not knowing that
a certain fossil belonged to the old red
sand stone, below which no coal is found.
Numerous attempts have been made to
construct perpetual-motion engines in the
hope of superseding steam ; but had
those who supplied the money, under
stood the general law of the conservation
and equivalence of forces, they might
have had better balances at their bankers.
Daily are men induced to aid in carrying
Out inventions which a mere tyro in
science could show to be futile. Scarcely
a locality but has its history of fortunes
thrown away over some impossible pro
ject.
And if already the loss from want of
science is so frequent and so great, still
greater and more frequent will it be to
those who hereafter lack science. Just
as fast as productive processes become
more scientific, which competition will
inevitably make them do; and just as
fast as joint-stock undertakings spread,
which they certainly will; so fast must
scientific knowledge grow necessary to
every one. That which our school-courses
�WHAT KNOWLEDGE IS OF MOST WORTH?
leave almost entirely out, we thus find to
be that which most nearly concerns the
business of life. Our industries would
cease, were it not for the information which
men begin to acquire, as they best may,
after their education is said to be
finished. And were it not for the infor
mation, from age to age accumulated
and spread by unofficial means, these
industries would never have existed.
Had there been no teaching but such as
goes on in our public schools, England
would now be what it was in feudal
times.
That increasing acquaintance
with the laws of phenomena, which has
through successive ages enabled us to
subjugate Nature to our needs, and in
these days gives the common labourer
comforts which a few centuries ago kings
could not purchase, is scarcely in any
degree owed to the appointed means of
instructing our youth. The vital know
ledge—that by which we have grown as
a nation to what we are, and which now
underlies our whole existence, is a know
ledge that has got itself taught in nooks
and corners; while the ordained agencies
for teaching have been mumbling little
else but dead formulas.
We come now to the third great divi
sion of human activities—a division for
which no preparation whatever is made.
If by some strange chance not a vestige
of us descended to the remote future
save a pile of our school-books or some
college examination-papers, we may
imagine how puzzled an antiquary of the
period would be on finding in them no
sign that the learners were ever likely
to be parents. “ This must have been
the curriculum for their celibates,” we
may fancy him concluding. “ I perceive
here an elaborate preparation for many
things; especially for reading the books
of extinct nations and of co-existing
23
nations (from which indeed it seems
clear that these people had very little
worth reading in their own tongue); but
I find no reference whatever to the
bringing up of children. They could
not have been so absurd as to omit all
training for this gravest of responsibilities.
Evidently then, this was the school
course of one of their monastic orders.”
Seriously, is it not an astonishing fact,
that though on the treatment of offspring
depend their lives or deaths, and their
moral welfare or ruin ; yet not one word
of instruction on the treatment of off
spring is ever given to those who will by
and by be parents ? Is it not monstrous
that the fate of a new generation should
be left to the chances of unreasoning
custom, impulse, fancy—joined with the
suggestions of ignorant nurses and the
prejudiced counsel of grandmothers ?
If a merchant commenced business with
out any knowledge of arithmetic and
book-keeping, we should exclaim at his
folly, and look for disastrous conse
quences. Or if, before studying anatomy,
a man set up as a surgical operator, we
should wonder at his audacity and pity
his patients. But that parents should
begin the difficult task of rearing children
without ever having given a thought to
the principles—physical, moral, or in
tellectual—which ought to guide them,
excites neither surprise at the actors nor
pity for their victims.
To tens of thousands that are killed,
add hundreds of thousands that survive
with feeble constitutions, and millions
that grow up with constitutions not so
strong as they should be; and you will
have some idea of the curse inflicted on
their offspring by parents ignorant of the
laws of life. Do but consider for a
moment that the regimen to which
children are subject, is hourly telling
upon them to their life-long injury or
�24
EDUCATION
benefit; and that there are twenty ways
of going wrong to one way of going
right; and you will get some idea of the
enormous mischief that is almost every
where inflicted by the thoughtless, hap
hazard system in common use. Is it
decided that a boy shall be clothed in
some flimsy short dress, and be allowed
to go playing about with limbs reddened
by cold ? The decision will tell on his
whole future existence—either in ill
nesses ; or in stunted growth; or in
deficient energy; or in a maturity less
vigorous than it ought to have been,
and in consequent hindrances to success
and happiness. Are children doomed
to a monotonous dietary, or a dietary
that is deficient in nutritiveness ?
Their ultimate physical power and their
efficiency as men and women, will in
evitably be more or less diminished by
it. Are they forbidden vociferous play,
or (being too ill-clothed to bear exposure)
are they kept in-doors in cold weather ?
They are certain to fall below that
measure of health and strength to which
they would else have attained. When
sons and daughters grow up sickly and
feeble, parents commonly regard the
event as a misfortune—as a visitation of
Providence. Thinking after the prevalent
chaotic fashion, they assume that these
evils come without causes; or that the
causes are supernatural. Nothing of the
kind. In some cases the causes are
doubtless inherited; but in most cases
foolish regulations are the causes. Very
generally, parents themselves are respon
sible for all this pain, this debility, this
depression, this misery. They have
undertaken to control the lives of their
offspring from hour to hour; with cruel
carelessness they have neglected to learn
anything about these vital processes
which they are unceasingly affecting by
their commands and prohibitions; in
utter ignorance of the simplest physiologic
laws, they have been year by year under
mining the constitutions of their children;
and have so inflicted disease and pre
mature death, not only on them but on
their descendants.
Equally great are the ignorance and
the consequent injury, when we turn
from physical training to moral training.
Consider the young mother and her
nursery-legislation. But a few years ago
she was at school, where her memory
was crammed with words, and names,
and dates, and her reflective faculties
scarcely in the slightest degree exercised
—where not one idea was given her
respecting the methods of dealing with
the opening mind of childhood; and
where her discipline did not in the least
fit her for thinking out methods of her
own. The intervening years have been
passed in practising music, in fancy-work,
in novel-reading, and in party-going : no
thought having yet been given to the
grave responsibilities of maternity; and
scarcely any of that solid intellectual
culture obtained which would be some
preparation for such responsibilities. And
now see her with an unfolding human
character committed to her charge—see
her profoundly ignorant of the pheno
mena with which she has to deal, under
taking to do that which can be done but
imperfectly even with the aid of the
profoundest knowledge.
She knows
nothing about the nature of the emotions,
their order of evolution, their functions,
or where use ends and abuse begins.
She is under the impression that some
of the feelings are wholly bad, which is
not true of any one of them; and that
others are good however far they may be
carried, which is also not true of any one
of them. And then, ignorant as she is
of the structure she has to deal with, she
is equally ignorant of the effects produced
�WHAT KNOWLEDGE IS OF MOST WORTH?
on it by this or that treatment. What
ran be more inevitable than the disas
trous results we see hourly arising ?
lacking knowledge of mental pheno
mena, with their cause and consequences,
her interference is frequently more
mischievous than absolute passivity would
have been. This and that kind of action,
which are quite normal and beneficial,
she perpetually thwarts; and so dimin
ishes the child’s happiness and profit,
injures its temper and her own, and pro
duces estrangement. Deeds which she
thinks it desirable to encourage, she gets
performed by threats and bribes, or by
exciting a desire for applause : consider
ing little what the inward motive may
be, so long as the outward conduct con
forms ; and thus cultivating hypocrisy,
and fear, and selfishness, in place of good
feeling. While insisting on truthfulness,
she constantly sets an example of untruth,
by threatening penalties which she does
not inflict. While inculcating self-con
trol, she hourly visits on her little ones,
angry scoldings for acts undeserving of
them. She has not the remotest idea
that in the nursery, as in the world, that
alone is the truly salutary discipline
which visits on all conduct, good and
bad, the natural consequences—the con
sequences, pleasurable or painful, which
in the nature of things such conduct
tends to bring.
Being thus without
theoretic guidance, and quite incapable
of guiding herself by tracing the mental
processes going on in her children, her
rule is impulsive, inconsistent, mis
chievous ; and would indeed be generally
ruinous, were it not that the overwhelm
ing tendency of the growing mind to
assume the moral type of the race,
usually subordinates all minor influences.
And then the culture of the intellect—
is not this, too, mismanaged in a similar
manner ? Grant that the phenomena of
25
intelligence conform to laws; grant that
the evolution of intelligence in a child
also conforms to laws; and it follows
inevitably that education cannot be
rightly guided without a knowledge of
these laws. To suppose that you can
properly regulate this process of forming
and accumulating ideas, without under
standing the nature of the process, is
absurd. How widely, then, must teach
ing as it is, differ from teaching as it
should be; when hardly any parents,
and but few tutors, know anything about
psychology. As might be expected,
the established system is grievously at
fault, alike in matter and in manner.
While the right class of facts is withheld,
the wrong class is forcibly administered
in the wrong way and in the wrong order.
Under that common limited idea of
education which confines it to knowledge
gained from books, parents thrust primers
into the hands of their little ones years
too soon, to their great injury.. Not
recognising the truth that the function of
books is supplementary—that they form
an indirect means to knowledge when
direct means fail—a means of seeing
through other men what you cannot see for
yourself; teachers are eager to give second
hand facts in place of first-hand facts.
Not perceiving the enormous value of
that spontaneous education which goes
on in early years—not perceiving that a
child’s restless observation, instead of
being ignored or checked, should be
diligently ministered to, and made as
accurate and complete as possible;
they insist on occupying its eyes and
thoughts with things that are, for the
time being, incomprehensible and
repugnant. Possessed by a superstition
which worships the symbols of know
ledge instead of knowledge itself, they
do not see that only when his acquain
tance with the objects and processes of
�26
EDUCATION
the household, the streets, and the fields,
is becoming tolerably exhaustive—only
then should a child be introduced to the
new sources of information which books
supply: and this, not only because
immediate cognition is of far greater
value than mediate cognition; but also,
because the words contained in books
can be rightly interpreted into ideas,
only in proportion to the antecedent
experience of things.
Observe next,
that this formal instruction, far too soon
commenced, is carried on with but little
reference to the laws of mental develop
ment. Intellectual progress is of necessity
from the concrete to the abstract. But
regardless of this, highly abstract studies,
such as grammar, which should come
quite late, are begun quite early. Political
geography, dead and uninteresting to a
child, and which should be an appendage
of sociological studies, is commenced
betimes; while physical geography, com
prehensible and comparatively attractive
to a child, is in great part passed over.
Nearly every subject dealt with is arranged
in abnormal order : definitions and rules
and principles being put first, instead of
being disclosed, as they are in the order
of nature, through the study of cases.
And then, pervading the whole, is .the
vicious system of rote learning—a system
of sacrificing the spirit to the letter. See
the results. What with perceptions
unnaturally dulled by early thwarting,
and a coerced attention to books—what
with the mental confusion produced by
teaching subjects before they can be
understood, and in each of them giving
generalisations before the facts of which
they are the generalisations—what with
making the pupil a mere passive recipient
of others’ ideas, and not in the least
leading him to be an active inquirer or
self-instructor—and what with taxing the
faculties to excess ; there are very few
minds that become as efficient as they
might be.
Examinations being once
passed, books are laid aside ; the greater
part of what has been acquired, being
unorganised, soon drops out of recollec
tion ; what remains is mostly inert—the
art of applying knowledge not having
been cultivated; and there is but little
power either of accurate observation or
independent thinking. To all which
add, that while much of the information
gained is of relatively small value, an
immense mass of information of trans
cendent value is entirely passed over.
Thus we find the facts to be such as
might have been inferred a priori. The
training of children—physical, moral,
and intellectual—is dreadfully defective.
And in great measure it is so, because
parents are devoid of that knowledge
by which this training can alone be
rightly guided. What is to be expected
when one of the most intricate of
problems is undertaken by those who
have given scarcely a thought to the
principles on which its solution depends?
For shoe-making or house-building, for
the management of a ship or a loco
motive engine, a long apprenticeship is
needful. Is it, then, that the unfolding
of a human being in body and mind, is
so comparatively simple a process, that
any one may superintend and regulate
it with no preparation whatever ? If not
—if the process is, with one exception,
more complex than any in Nature, and
the task of ministering to it one of
surpassing difficulty; is it not madness
to make no provision for such a task ?
Better sacrifice accomplishments than
omit this all-essential instruction. When
a father, acting on false dogmas adopted
without examination, has alienated his
sons, driven them into rebellion by his
harsh treatment, ruined them, and made
himself miserable ; he might reflect that
�WHAT KNOWLEDGE IS OF MOST WORTH?
the study of Ethology would have been
worth pursuing, even at the cost of
knowing nothing about Asschylus. When
a mother is mourning over a first-born
that has sunk under the sequelae of
scarlet-fever—when perhaps a candid
medical man has confirmed her suspicion
that her child would have recovered had
not its system been enfeebled by over
study—when she is prostrate under the
pangs of combined grief and remorse;
it is but small consolation that she can
read Dante in the original.
Thus we see that for regulating the
third great division of human activities,
a knowledge of the laws of life is the one
thing needful. Some acquaintance with
the first principles of physiology and the
elementary truths of psychology, is indis
pensable for the right bringing up of
children.; We doubt not that many
will read this assertion with a smile.
That parents in general should be ex
pected to acquire a knowledge of subjects
so abstruse, will seem to them an absur
dity. And if we proposed that an
exhaustive knowledge of these subjects
should be obtained by all fathers and
mothers, the absurdity would indeed be
glaring enough. But we do not. General
principles only, accompanied by such
illustrations as may be needed to make
them understood, would suffice. And
these might be readily taught—if not
rationally, then dogmatically. Be this
as it may, however, here are the indispu
table facts:—that the development of
children in mind and body follows
certain laws; that unless these laws are
in some degree conformed to by parents,
death is inevitable; that unless they are
in a great degree conformed to, there
must result serious physical and mental
defects; and that only when they are
completely conformed to, can a perfect
maturity he reached.
Judge, then,
27
whether all who may one day be parents,
should not strive with some anxiety to
learn what these laws are.
From the parental functions let us
pass now to the functions of the citizen.
We have here to inquire what knowledge
fits a man for the discharge of these
functions. It cannot be alleged that the
need of knowledge fitting him for these
functions is wholly overlooked; for our
school-courses contain certain studies
which, nominally at least, bear upon
political and social duties. Of these
the only one that occupies a prominent
place is History.
But, as already hinted, the information
commonly given under this head, is
almost valueless for purposes of gui
dance. Scarcely any of the facts set down
in our school-histories, and very few of
those contained in the more elaborate
works written for adults, illustrate the
right principles of political action.
The biographies of monarchs (and our
children learn little else) throw scarcely
any light upon the science of society.
Familiarity with court intrigues, plots,
usurpations, or the like, and with all the
personalities accompanying them, aids
very little in elucidating the causes of
national progress. We read of some
squabble for power, that it led to a
pitched battle ; that such and such were
the names of the generals and their
leading subordinates; that they had
each so many thousand infantry and
cavalry, and so many cannon : that they
arranged their forces in this and that
order; that they manoeuvred, attacked,
and fell back in certain ways; that at
this part of the day such disasters were
sustained, and at that such advantages
gained ; that in one particular movement
some leading officer fell, while in another
a certain regiment was decimated; that
�28
EDUCATION
after all the changing fortunes of the
fight, the victory was gained by this or
that army ; and that so many were killed
and wounded on each side, and so many
captured by the conquerors. And now,
out of the accumulated details making
up the narrative, say which it is that
helps you in deciding on your conduct
as a citizen. Supposing even that you
diligently read, not only “The Fifteen
Decisive Battles of the World,” but
accounts of all other battles that history
mentions; how much more judicious
would your vote be at the next election ?
“But these are facts—interesting facts,”
you say. Without doubt they are facts
(such, at least, as are not wholly or
partially fictions); and to many they
may be interesting facts. But this by
no means implies that they are valuable.
Factitious or morbid opinion often gives
seeming value to things that have scarcely
any. A tulipomaniac will not part with
a choice bulb for its weight in gold.
To another man an ugly piece of cracked
old china seems his most desirable
possession. And there are those who
give high prices for relics of celebrated
murderers. Will it be contended that
these tastes are any measure of value in
the things that gratify them ? If not,
then it must be admitted that the liking
felt for certain classes of historical facts
is no proof of their worth; and that we
must test their worth, as we test the
worth of other facts, by asking to what
uses they are applicable. Were some
one to tell you that your neighbour’s cat
kittened yesterday, you would say the
information was valueless. Fact though
it may be, you would call it an utterly
useless fact—a fact that could in no way
influence your actions in life—a fact that
would not help you in learning how to
live completely. Well, apply the same
test to the great mass of historical facts,
and you will get the same result. They
are facts from which no conclusions can
be drawn — unorganisable facts; and
therefore facts of no service in establishing
principles of conduct, which is the chief
use of facts. Read them, if you like,
for amusement; but do not flatter
yourself they are instructive.
That which constitutes History,
properly so called, is in great part
omitted from works on the subject.
Only of late years have historians com
menced giving us, in any considerable
quantity, the truly valuable information.
As in past ages the king was everything
and the people nothing; so, in past
histories the doings of the king fill the
entire picture, to which the national life
forms but an obscure background.
While only now, when the welfare of
nations rather than the rulers is becoming
the dominant idea, are historians beginning
to occupy themselves with the phenomena
of social progress. The thing it really
concerns us to know, is the natural
history of society. We want all facts
which help us to understand how a
nation has grown and organised itself.
Among these, let us of course have an
account of its government; with as little
as may be of gossip about the men who
officered it, and as much as possible
about the structure, principles, methods,
prejudices, corruptions, etc., which it
exhibited; and let this account include
not only the nature and actions of the
central government, but also those of
local governments, down to their minutest
ramifications. Let us of course also have
a parallel description of the ecclesiastical
government—its organisation, its con
duct, its power, its relations to the State;
and accompanying this, the ceremonial,
creed, and religious ideas—not only
those nominally believed, but those
really believed and acted upon. Let us
�WHAT KNOWLEDGE IS OF MOST WORTH?
at the same time be informed of the
Control exercised by class over class, as
displayed in social observances—in titles,
¡Salutations, and forms of address. Let
us know, too, what were all the other
customs which regulated the popular life
out of doors and in-doors ; including
those concerning the relations of the
sexes, and the relations of parents to
children. The superstitions, also, from
the more important myths down to the
charms in common use, should be
indicated. Next should cornea delinea
tion of the industrial system : showing to
what extent the division of labour was
carried ; how trades were regulated,
whether by caste, guilds, or otherwise;
what was the connection between
employers and employed; what were
the agencies for distributing commo
dities; what were the means of com
munication ; what was the circulating
medium. Accompanying all which should
be given an account of the industrial
arts technically considered : stating the
processes in use, and the quality of the
products. Further, the intellectual con
dition of the nation in its various grades
should be depicted ; not only with
respect to the kind and amount of
education, but with respect to the
progress made in science, and the pre
vailing manner of thinking. The degree
of æsthetic culture, as displayed in
architecture, sculpture, painting, dress,
music, poetry, and fiction, should be
described. Nor should there be omitted
a sketch of the daily lives of the people—
their food, their homes, and their amuse
ments. And lastly, to connect the whole,
should be exhibited the morals, theo
retical and practical, of all classes : as
indicated in their laws, habits, proverbs,
deeds. * hese facts, given with as much
T
brevity as consists with clearness and
accuracy, should be so grouped and
29
arranged that they may be comprehended
in their ensemble, and contemplated as
mutually-dependent parts of one great
whole. The aim should be so to present
them that men may readily trace the
consensus subsisting among them; with
the view of learning what social
phenomena co-exist with what others.
And then the corresponding delineations
of succeeding ages should be so managed
as to show how each belief, institution,
custom, and arrangement was modified;
and how the consensus of preceding
structures and functions was developed
into the consensus of succeeding ones.
Such alone is the kind of information
respecting past times, which can be of
service to the citizen for the regulation
of his conduct. The only history that
is of practical value, is what may be
called Descriptive Sociology. And the
highest office which the historian can
discharge, is that of so narrating the lives
of nations, as to furnish materials for a
Comparative Sociology; and for the
subsequent determination of the ultimate
laws to which social phenomena con
form.
But now mark, that even supposing
an adequate stock of this truly valuable
historical knowledge has been acquired,
it is of comparatively little use without
the key. And the key is to be found
only in Science. In the absence of the
generalisations of biology and psychology,
rational interpretation of social pheno
mena is impossible. Only in proportion
as men draw certain rude, empirical
inferences respecting human nature, are
they enabled to understand even the
simplest facts of social life: as, for
instance, the relation between supply and
demand. And if the most elementary
truths of sociology cannot be reached
until some knowledge is obtained of how
men generally think, feel, and act under
�3©
EDUCATION
given circumstances; then it is manifest
that there can oe nothing like a wide
comprehension of sociology, unless
through a competent acquaintance with
man in all his faculties, bodily and
mental.
Consider the matter in the
. abstract, and this conclusion is selfevident. Thus :—Society is made up of
individuals; ail that is done in society is
done by the combined actions of indi
viduals ; and therefore, in individual
actions only can be found the solutions
of social phenomena. But the actions
of individuals depend on the laws of
their natures; and their actions cannot
be understood until these laws are under
stood.
These laws, however, when
reduced to their simplest expressions,
prove to be corollaries from the laws of
body and mind in general. Hence it
follows, that biology and psychology are
indispensable as interpreters of sociology.
Or, to state the conclusions still more
simply : — all social phenomena are
phenomena of life—are the most com
plex manifestations of life—must con
form to the laws of life—and can be
understood only when the laws of life
are understood. Thus, then, for the
regulation of this fourth division of
human activities, »we are, as before,
dependent on Science. Of the know
ledge commonly imparted in educational
courses, very little is of service for guiding
a man in his conduct as a citizen. Only
a small part of the history he reads is of
practical value; and of this small part he
is not prepared to make proper use. He
lacks not only the materials for, but the
very conception of, descriptive sociology;
and he also lacks those generalisations
of the organic sciences, without which
even descriptive sociology can give him
but small aid.
And now we come to that remaining
division of human life which includes the
relaxations and amusements filling leisure
hours. After considering what training
best fits for self-preservation, for the
obtainment of sustenance, for the dis
charge of parental duties, and for the
regulation of social and political conduct;
we have now to consider what training
best fits for the miscellaneous ends n6t
included in these—for the enjoyments of
Nature, of Literature, and of the Fine
Arts, in all their forms. Postponing
them as we do to things that bear more
vitally upon human welfare; and bringing
everything, as we have, to the test of
actual value ; it will perhaps be inferred
that we are inclined to slight these less
essential things. No greater mistake
could be made, however. We yield to
none in the value we attach to aesthetic
culture and its pleasures.
Without
painting, sculpture, music, poetry, and
the emotions produced by natural beauty
of every kind, life would lose half its
charm. So far from regarding the
training and gratification of the tastes
as unimportant, we believe that in time to
come they will occupy a much larger share
of human life than now. When the forces
of Nature have been fully cojiquered to
man’s use—when the means of produc
tion have been brought to perfection—
when labour has been economised to
the highest degree—when education has
been so systematised that a preparation
for the more essential activities may be
made with comparative rapidity—and
when, consequently, there is a great
increase of spare time; then will the
beautiful, both in Art and Nature, rightly
fill a large space in the minds of all.
But it is one thing to approve of
aesthetic culture as largely conducive to
human happiness; and another thing to
admit that it is a fundamental requisite
to human happiness. However important
�WHAT KNOWLEDGE IS OF MOST WORTH?
it may be, it must yield precedence
to those kinds of culture which bear
directly upon daily duties. As before
hinted, literature and the fine arts are
made possible by those activities which
make individual and social life possible ;
and manifestly, that which is made
possible, must be postponed to that
which makes it possible. A florist
cultivates a plant for the sake of its
flower ; and regards the roots and leaves
as of value, chiefly because they are
instrumental in producing the flower.
But while, as an ultimate product, the
flower is the thing to which everything
else is subordinate, the florist has learnt
that the root and leaves ase intrinsically
of greater importance ; because on them
the evolution of the flower depends. He
bestows every care in rearing a healthy
plant; and knows it would be folly if,
in his anxiety to obtain the flower, he
were to neglect the plant. Similarly
in thé case before us.
Architecture,
sculpture, painting, music, and poetry,
may truly be called the efflorescence of
civilised life. But even supposing they
are of such transcendent worth as to
subordinatethe civilised life out of which
they grow^vhich can hardly be asserted),
it will still be admitted that the produc
tion of a healthy civilised life must be
the first condition ; and that culture
subserving this must occupy the highest
place.
And here we see most distinctly the
vice of our educational system.
It
neglects the plant for the sake of the
flower. In anxiety for elegance, it
forgets substance. While it gives no
knowledge conducive to self-preservation
—while of knowledge that facilitates
gaining a livelihood it gives but the
rudiments, and leaves the greater part
to be picked up any how in after life—
while for the discharge'of parental func
31
tions it makes not the slightest provision
—and while for the duties of citizenship
it prepares by imparting a mass of facts,
most of which are irrelevant, and the rest
without a key; it is diligent in teaching
whatever adds to refinement, polish,
éclat. Fully as we may admit that ex
tensive acquaintance with modern lan
guages is a valuable accomplishment,
which, through reading, conversation,
and travel, aids in giving a certain finish;
it by no means follows that this result
is rightly purchased at the cost of the
vitally important knowledge sacrificed to
it. Supposing it true that classical edu
cation conduces to elegance and correct
ness of style; it cannot be said that
elegance and correctness of style are
comparable in importance to a familiarity
with the principles that should guide the
rearing of children. Grant that the
taste may be improved by reading the
poetry written in extinct languages; yet
it is not to be inferred that such im
provement of taste is equivalent in value
to an acquaintance with the laws of
health. Accomplishments, the fine arts,
belles-lettres, and all those things which,
as we say, constitute the efflorescence of
civilisation, should be wholly subordi
nate to that instruction and discipline on
which civilisation rests. As they occupy
the leisure part of life, so should they
occupy the leisure part of education.
Recognising thus the true position of
aesthetics, and holding that while the
cultivation of them should form a part
of education from its commencement,
such cultivation should be subsidiary;
we have now to inquire what knowledge
is of most use to this end—what know
ledge best fits for this remaining sphere
of activity ? To this question the answer
is still the same as heretofore. Unex
pected though the assertion may be, it is
nevertheless true, that the highest Art of
�32
EDUCATION
every kind is based on Science—that
without Science there can be neither
perfect production nor full appreciation.
Science, in that limited acceptation
current in society, may not have been
possessed by various artists of high
repute; but acute observers as such
artists have been, they have always
possessed a stock of those empirical
generalisations which constitute science
in its lowest phase; and they have
habitually fallen far below perfection,
partly because their generalisations were
comparatively few and inaccurate. That
science necessarily underlies the fine arts,
becomes manifest, a priori, when we
remember that art products are all more
or less representative of objective or sub
jective phenomena; that they can be
good only in proportion as they conform
to the laws of these phenomena; and
that before they can thus conform, the
artist must know what these laws are.
That this a priori conclusion tallies with
experience, we shall soon see.
Youths preparing for the practice of
sculpture, have to acquaint themselves
with the bones and muscles of the human
frame in their distribution, attachments,
and movements. This is a portion of
science; and it has been found needful
to impart it for the prevention of those
many errors which sculptors who do not
possess it commit.
A knowledge of
mechanical principles is also requisite;
and such knowledge not being usually
possessed, grave mechanical mistakes
are frequently made. Take an instance.
For the stability of a figure it is needful
that the perpendicular from the centre
of gravity—“ the line of direction,” as it
is called—should fall within the base of
support; and hence it happens, that
when a man assumes the attitude known
as “ standing at ease,” in which one leg
is straightened and the other relaxed, the
line of direction falls within the foot of
the straightened leg. But sculptors un- I
familiar with the theory of equilibrium,
not uncommonly so represent this atti- i
tude, that the line of direction falls mid- 1
way between the feet. Ignorance of the
law of momentum leads to analogous
blunders : as witness the admired Dis- |
cobolus, which, as it is posed, must inevit
ably fall forward the moment the quoit
is delivered.
In painting, the necessity for scientific
information, empirical if not rational, is
still more conspicuous. What gives the
grotesqueness to Chinese pictures, unless
their utter disregard of the laws of
appearances^|heir absurd linear per
spective, and their want of aerial per
spective ? In what are the drawings of
a child so faulty, if not in a similar
absence of truth—an absence arising, in
great part, from ignorance of the way in f
which the aspects of things vary with the
conditions? Do but remember the books 2
and lectures by which students are in
structed; or consider the criticisms of If
Ruskin; or look at the doings of the Pre- £
Raffaelites; and you will see that pro
gress in painting implies ¡increasing
knowledge of how effects in Mture are a:
produced. The most diligent observa
tion, if unaided by science, fails to pre
serve from error. Every painter will I Hi
endorse the assertion that unless it is
known what appearances must exist
under given circumstances, they often 03
will not be perceived; and to know what
appearances must exist is, in so far, to if
understand the science of appearances. : .236
From want of science Mr. J. Lewis,
careful painter as he is, casts the shadow
of a lattice-window in sharply-defined baii
lines upon an opposite wall; which he
would not have done, had he been
familiar with the phenomena of penum -friii
brae. From want of science, Mr. Rosetti,
1
�WHAT KNOWLEDGE IS OF MOST WORTH?
catching sight of a peculiar iridescence
displayed by certain hairy surfaces under
particular lights (an iridescence caused
by the diffraction of light in passing the
hairs), commits the error of showing this
iridescence on surfaces and in positions
where it could not occur.
To say that music, too, has need of
scientific aid will cause still more sur
prise. Yet it may be shown that music
is but an idealisation of the natural lan
guage of emotion; and that consequently,
music must be good or bad according as
it conforms to the laws of this natural
language.
The various inflections of
voice which accompany feelings of dif
ferent kinds and intensities, are the
germs out of which music is developed.
It is demonstrable that these inflections
and cadences are not accidental or arbi
trary ; but that they are determined by
certain general principles of vital action;
and that their expressiveness depends on
this. Whence it follows that musical
phrases and the melodies built of them,
can be effective only when they are in
harmony with these general principles. It
is difficult here properly to illustrate this
position. But perhaps it will suffice to
instance the swarms of worthless ballads
that infest arawing-rooms, as composi
tions which science would forbid. They
sin against science by setting to music,
ideas that are not emotional enough to
prompt musical expression; and they
also sin against science by using musical
phrases that have no natural relations to
the ideas expressed : even where these
are emotional. They are bad because
they are untrue. And to say they are
untrue, is to say they are unscientific.
Even in poetry the same thing holds.
Like music, poetry has its root in those
natural modes of expression which
accompany deep feeling. Its rhythm,
its strong and numerous metaphors, its
33
hyperboles, its violent inversions, are
simply exaggerations of the traits of
excited speech. To be good, therefore,
poetry must pay attention to those laws
of nervous action which excited speech
obeys. In intensifying and combining
the traits of excited speech, it must have
due regard to proportion—must not use
its appliances without restriction ; but,
where the ideas are least emotional,
must use the forms of poetical expression
sparingly ; must use them more freely as
the emotion rises ; and must carry them
to their greatest extent, only where the
emotion reaches a climax. The entire
contravention of these principles results
in bombast or doggerel. The insufficient
respect for them is seen in didactic
poetry. And it is because they are
rarely fully obeyed, that so much poetry
is inartistic.
Not only is it that the artist, of what
ever kind, cannot produce a truthful
work without he understands the laws
of the phenomena he represents ; but it
is that he must also understand how the
minds of spectators or listeners will be
affected by the several peculiarities of his
work—a question in psychology. What
impression any art-product generates,
manifestly depends upon the mental
natures of those to whom it is presented;
and as all mental natures have certain
characteristics in common, there must
result certain corresponding general prin
ciples on which alone art-products can
be successfully framed. These general
principles cannot be fully understood
and applied, unless the artist sees how
they follow from the laws of mind. To
ask whether the composition of a picture
is good, is really to ask how the percep
tions and feelkjgs of observers will be:
affected by it. To ask whether a drama,
is well constructed, is to ask whether its
situations are so arranged as duly to»
�34
ÉDUCATION
consult the power of attention of an audi
ence and duly to avoid overtaxing any
one class of feelings. Equally in arrang
ing the leading divisions of a poem or
fiction, and in combining the words of
a single sentence, the goodness of the
effect depends upon the skill with which
the mental energies and susceptibilities
of the reader are economised. Every
artist, in the course of his education and
after-life, accumulates a stock of maxims
by which his practice is regulated. Trace
such maxims to their roots, and they
inevitably lead you down to psychological
principles. And only when the artist
understands these psychological principles
and their various corollaries, can he work
in harmony with them.
We do not for a moment believe that
science will make an artist. While we
contend that the leading laws both of
objective and subjective phenomena
must be understood by him, we by no
means contend that knowledge of such
laws will serve in place of natural per
ception. Not the poet only, but the
artist of every type, is born, not made.
What we assert is, that innate faculty
cannot dispense with the aid of organised
knowledge. Intuition will do much, but
it will not do all. Only when Genius is
married to Science can the highest
results be produced.
As we have above asserted, Science is
necessary not only for the most success
ful production, but also for the full
appreciation, of the fine arts. In what
consists the greater ability of a man than
of a child to perceive the beauties of a
picture; unless it is in his more extended
knowledge of those truths in nature or
life which the picture renders? How
happens the cultivated gentleman to
enjoy a fine poem so much more than a
boor does; if it is not because his wider
acquaintance with objects and actions
enables him to see in the poem much
that the boor cannot see ? And if, as is
here so obvious, there must be some
familiarity with the things represented,
before the representation can be appre
ciated ; then the representation can
be completely appreciated, only when
the things represented are completely
understood.
The fact is, that every
additional truth which a work of art
expresses, gives an additional pleasure
to the percipient mind—a pleasure that
is missed by those ignorant of this truth.
The more realities an artist indicates in
any given amount of work, the more
faculties does he appeal to; the more
numerous ideas does he suggest; the
more gratification does he afford. But
to receive this gratification the spectator,
listener, or reader, must know the realities
which the artist has indicated; and to
know these realities is to have that much
science.
And now let us not overlook the
further great fact, that not only does
science underlie sculpture, painting,
music, poetry, but that science is itself
poetic. The current opinion that science
and poetry are opposed, is it delusion.
It is doubtless true that as states of
consciousness, cognition and emotion
tend to exclude each other. And it is
doubtless also true that an extreme
activity of the reflective powers tends
to deaden the feelings; while an
extreme activity of the feelings tends to
deaden the reflective powers: in which
sense, indeed, all orders of activity are
antagonistic to each other. But it is
not true that the facts of science are
unpoetical; or that the cultivation of
science is necessarily unfriendly to the
exercise of imagination and the love of
the beautiful. On the contrary, science
opens up realms of poetry where to
the unscientific all is a blank. Those
�WHAT KNOWLEDGE IS OF MOST WORTH?
engaged in scientific researches constantly
show us that they realise not less vividly,
but more vividly, than others, the poetry
of their subjects. Whoso will dip into
Hugh Miller’s works on geology, or read
Mr. Lewes’s Seaside Studies, will per
ceive that science excites poetry rather
than extinguishes it. And he who con
templates the life of Goethe, must see
that the poet and the man of science
can co-exist in equal activity. Is it not,
indeed, an absurd and almost a sacri
legious belief, that the more a man studies
Nature the less he reveres it? Think
you that a drop of water, which to the
vulgar eye is but a drop of water, loses
anything in the eye of the physicist who
knows that its elements are held together
by a force which, if suddenly liberated,
would produce a flash of lightning ?
Think you that what is carelessly looked
upon by the uninitiated as a mere snow
flake, does not suggest higher associations
to one who has seen through a micro
scope the wondrously-varied and elegant
forms of snow-crystals ? Think you that
the rounded rock marked with parallel
scratches, calls up as much poetry in an
ignorant mind as in the mind of a geolo
gist who knows that over this rock a
glacier slid a million years ago ? The
truth is, that those who have never
entered upon scientific pursuits are blind
to most of the poetry by which they are
surrounded. Whoever has not in youth
collected plants and insects, knows not
half the halo of interest which lanes and
hedge-rows can assume. Whoever has
not sought for fossils, has little idea of
the poetical associations that surround the
places where imbedded treasures were
found. Whoever at the seaside has not
had a microscope and aquarium, has yet
to learn what the highest pleasures of
the seaside are. Sad, indeed, is it to
see how men occupy themselves with
35
trivialities, and are indifferent to the
grandest phenomena—care not to under
stand the architecture of the Heavens,
but are deeply interested in some con
temptible controversy about the intrigues
of Mary Queen of Scots !—are learnedly
critical over a Greek ode, and pass by
without a glance that grand epic written
by the finger of God upon the strata of
the Earth !
We find, then, that even for this
remaining division of human activities,
scientific culture is the proper prepara
tion. We find that aesthetics in general
are necessarily based upon scientific
principles; and can be pursued with com
plete success only through an acquain
tance with these principles. We find
that for the criticism and due apprecia
tion of works of art, a knowledge of
the constitution of things, or in other
words, a knowledge of science, is requi
site. And we not only find that science
is the handmaid to all forms of art and
poetry, but that, rightly regarded, science
is itself poetic.
Thus far our question has been, the
worth of knowledge of this or that kind
for purposes of guidance. We have now
to judge the relative values of different
kinds of knowledge for purposes of
discipline. This division of our subject
we are obliged to treat with comparative
brevity; and happily, no very lengthened
treatment of it is needed. Having found
what is best for the one end, we have by
implication found what is best for the
other. We may be quite sure that the
acquirement of those classes of facts
which are most useful for regulating
conduct, involves a mental exercise best
fitted for strengthening the faculties. It
would be utterly contrary to the beautiful
economy of Nature, if one kind of culture
were needed for the gaining of information
�36
EDUCATION
and another kind were needed as a
mental gymnastic. Everywhere through
out creation we find faculties developed
through the performance of those func
tions which it is their office to perform;
not through the performance of artificial
exercises devised to fit them for those
functions.
The Red Indian acquires
the swiftness and agility which make him
a successful hunter, by the actual pursuit
of animals; and through the miscel
laneous activities of his life, he gains a
better balance of physical powers than
gymnastics ever give.
That skill in
tracking enemies and prey which he has
reached after long practice, implies a
subtlety of perception far exceeding any
thing produced by artificial training.
And similarly in all cases. From the
Bushman whose eye, habitually employed
in identifying distant objects that are to
be pursued or fled from, has acquired a
telescopic range, to the accountant whose
daily practice enables him to add up
several columns of figures simultaneously;
we find that the highest power of a faculty
results from the discharge of those duties
which the conditions of life require it to
discharge. And we may be certain,
a priori, that the same law holds through
out education. The education of most
value for guidance, must at the same
time be the education of most value for
discipline. Let us consider the evidence.
One advantage claimed for that devo
tion to language-learning which forms
so prominent a feature in the ordinary
curriculum, is, that the memory is thereby
strengthened. This is assumed to be
an advantage peculiar to the study of
words. But the truth is, that the sciences
afford far wider fields for the exercise of
memory. It is no slight task to remember
everything about our solar system; much
more to remember all that is known
concerning the structure of our galaxy.
The number of compound substances,
to which chemistry daily adds, is so
great that few, save professors, can
enumerate them; and to recollect the
atomic constitutions and affinities of all
these compounds, is scarcely possible
without making chemistry the occupation
of life.
In the enormous mass of
phenomena presented by the Earth’s
crust, and in the still more enormous
mass of phenomena presented by the
fossils it contains, there is matter which
it takes the geological student years of
application to master.
Each leading
division of physics—sound, heat, light,
electricity — includes facts numerous
enough to alarm any one proposing to
learn them all. And when we pass to
the organic sciences, the effort of memory
required becomes still greater. In human
anatomy alone, the quantity of detail is
so great, that the young surgeon has
commonly to get it up half-a-dozen
times before he can permanently retain
it. The number of species of plants
which botanists distinguish, amounts to
some 320,000; while the varied forms
of animal life with which the zoologist
deals, are estimated at some 2,000,000.
So vast is the accumulation of facts
which men of science have before them,
that only by dividing and subdividing
their labours can they deal with it. To
a detailed knowledge of his own division,
each adds but a general knowledge of
the allied ones ; joined perhaps to a rudi
mentary acquaintance with some others.
Surely, then, science, cultivated even to
a very moderate extent, affords adequate
exercise for memory. To say the very
least, it involves quite as good a dis
cipline for this faculty as language does.
But now mark that while, for the
training of mere memory, science is as
good as, if not better than, language,
it has an immense superiority in the kind
�WHAT KNOWLEDGE IS OF MOST WORTH?
of memory it trains. In the acquire
ment of a language, the connections of
ideas to be established in the mind
correspond to facts that are in great
measure accidental ; whereas, in the
acquirement of science, the connections
of ideas to be established in the mind
correspond to facts that are mostly
necessary. It is true that the relations
of words to their meanings are in one
sense natural; that the genesis of these
relations may be traced back a certain
distance, though rarely to the beginning;
and that the laws of this genesis form a
branch of mental science—the science
of philology. But since it will not be
contended that in the acquisition of
languages, as ordinarily carried on, these
natural relations between words and
their meanings are habitually traced,
and their laws explained; it must be
admitted that they are commonly learned
as fortuitous relations. On the other
hand, the relations which science pre
sents are causal relations; and, when
properly taught, are understood as such.
While language familiarises with nonrational relations, science familiarises
with rational relations. While the one
exercises memory only, the other exer
cises both memory and understanding.
Observe next, that a great superiority
of science over language as a means of
discipline, is, that it cultivates the judg
ment. As, in a lecture on mental edu
cation delivered at the Royal Institution,
Professor Faraday well remarks, the most
common intellectual fault is deficiency of
judgment. “Society, speaking generally,”
he says, “ is not only ignorant as respects
education of the judgment, but it is also
ignorant of its ignorance.” And the
cause to which he ascribes this state, is
want of scientific culture. The truth of
his conclusion is obvious. Correct judg
ment with regard to surrounding objects,
37
events, and consequences, becomes pos
sible only through knowledge of the way
in which surrounding phenomena depend
on each other. No extent of acquain
tance with the meanings of words, will
guarantee correct inferences respecting
causes and effects. The habit of drawing
conclusions from data, and then of verify
ing those conclusions by observation
and experiment, can alone give the
power of judging correctly. And that it
necessitates this habit is one of the
immense advantages of science.
Not only, however, for intellectual
discipline is science the best; but also
for moral discipline. The learning of
languages tends, if anything, further to
increase the already undue respect for
authority.
Such and such are the
meanings of these words, says the teacher
or the dictionary. So and so is the rule
in this case, says the grammar. By the
pupil these dicta are received as un
questionable. His constant attitude of
mind is that of submission to dogmatic
teaching. And a necessary result is a
tendency to accept without inquiry what
ever is established. Quite opposite is
the mental tone generated by the culti
vation of science. Science makes con
stant appeal to individual reason. Its
truths are not accepted on authority
alone; but all are at liberty to test them
—nay, in many cases, the pupil is
required to think out his own conclu
sions. Every step in a scientific investi
gation is submitted to his judgment.
He is not asked to admit it without
seeing it to be true. And the trust in
his own powers thus produced, is further
increased by the uniformity with which
Nature justifies his inferences when they
are correctly drawn. From all which
there flows that independence which is
a most valuable element in character.
Nor is this the only moral benefit
�38
EDUCATION
bequeathed by scientific culture. When
carried on, as it should always be, as
much as possible under the form of
original research, it exercises perseverance
and sincerity. As says Professor Tyndall
of inductive inquiry, “it requires patient
industry, and an humble and conscien
tious acceptance of what Nature reveals.
The first condition of success is an
honest receptivity and a willingness to
abandon all preconceived notions, how
ever cherished, if they be found to con
tradict the truth. Believe me, a selfrenunciation which has something noble
in it, and of which the world never hears,
is often enacted in the private experience
of the true votary of science.”
Lastly we have to assert—and the
assertion will, we doubt not, cause extreme
surprise—that the discipline of science
is superior to that of our ordinary
education, because of the religious culture
that it gives. Of course we do not here
use the words scientific and religious in
their ordinary limited acceptations ; but
in their widest and highest acceptations.
Doubtless, to the superstitions that pass
under the name of religion, science is
antagonistic; but not to the essential
religion which these superstitions merely
hide. Doubtless, too, in much of the
science that is current, there is a pervad
ing spirit of irreligion; but not in that
true science which has passed beyond
the superficial into the profound.
“ True science and true religion,” says Pro
fessor Huxley at the close of a recent course of
lectures, “ are twin-sisters, and the separation
of either from the other is sure to prove the
death of both. Science prospers exactly in pro
portion as it is religious ; and religion flourishes
in exact proportion to the scientific depth and
firmness of its basis. The great deeds of
philosophers have been less the fruit of their
intellect than of the direction of that intellect by
an eminently religious tone of mind. Truth has
yielded herself rather to their patience, their
love, their single-heartedness and their self
denial, than to their logical acumen.”
So far from science being irreligious,
as many think, it is the neglect of science
that is irreligious—it is the refusal to
study the surrounding creation that is
irreligious.
Take a humble simile.
Suppose, a writer were daily saluted with
praises couched in superlative language.
Suppose the wisdom, the grandeur, the
beauty of his works, were the constant
topics of the eulogies addressed to him.
Suppose those who unceasingly uttered
these eulogies on his works were content
with looking at the outsides of them; and
had never opened them, much less tried
to understand them. What value should
we put upon their praises ? What should
we think of their sincerity ? Yet, com
paring small things to great, such is the
conduct of mankind in general, in
reference to the Universe and its Cause.
Nay, it is worse. Not only do they pass
by without study, these things which
they daily proclaim to be so wonderful;
but very frequently they condemn as
mere triflers those who give time to the
observation of Nature—they actually
scorn those who show any active interest
in these marvels. We repeat, then, that
not science, but the neglect of science,
is irreligious. Devotion to science, is a
tacit worship—a tacit recognition of
worth in the things studied; and by
implication in their Cause. It is not a
mere lip-homage, but a homage expressed
in actions—not a mere professed respect,
but a respect proved by the sacrifice of
time, thought, and labour.
Nor is it thus only that true science is
essentially religious. It is religious, too,
inasmuch as it generates a profound
respect for, and an implicit faith in,
those uniformities of action which all
things disclose. By accumulated experi
ences the man of science acquires a
�WHAT KNOWLEDGE IS OF MOST WORTH?
thorough belief in the unchanging rela
tions of phenomena—in the invariable
connection of cause and consequence—
in the necessity of good or evil results.
Instead of the rewards and punishments
of traditional belief, which people vaguely
hope they may gain, or escape, spite of
their disobedience ; he finds that there
are rewards and punishments in the
ordained constitution of things ; and
that the evil results of disobedience are
inevitable. He sees that the laws to
which we must submit are both inexor
able and beneficent. He sees that in
conforming to them, the process of
things is ever towards a greater perfec
tion and a higher happiness. Hence he
is led constantly to insist on them, and
is indignant when they are disregarded.
And thus does he, by asserting the
eternal principles of things and the
necessity of obeying them, prove himself
intrinsically religious.
And lastly the further religious aspect
of science, that it alone, can give us true
conceptions of ourselves and our rela
tion to the mysteries of existence. At
the same time that it shows us all which
can be known, it shows us the limits
beyond which we can know nothing.
Not by dogmatic assertion, does it teach
the impossibility of comprehending the
Ultimate Cause of things ; but it leads
us clearly to recognise this impossibility
by bringing us in. every direction to
boundaries we cannot cross. It realises
to us in a way which nothing else can,
the littleness of human intelligence in
the face of that which transcends human
intelligence. While towards the tradi
tions and authorities of men its attitude
may be proud, before the impenetrable
veil which hides the Absolute its attitude
is humble—a true pride and a true
humility. Only the sincere man of
science (and by this title we do not
39
mean the mere calculator of distances,
or analyser of compounds, or labeller of
species; but him who through lower
truths seeks higher, and eventually the
highest)—only the genuine man of
science, we say, can truly know how
utterly beyond, not only human know
ledge but human conception, is the
Universal Power of which Nature, and
Life, and Thought are manifestations.
We conclude, then, that for discipline,
as well as for guidance, science is of
chiefest value. In all its effects, learning
the meanings of things, is better than
learning the meanings of words. Whether
for intellectual, moral, or religious train
ing, the study of surrounding phenomena
is immensely superior to the study of
grammars and lexicons.
Thus to the question we set out with
—What knowledge is of most worth ?—
the uniform reply is—Science. This is
the verdict on all the counts. For direct
self-preservation, or the maintenance of
life and health, the all-important know
ledge is—Science. For that indirect
self-preservation which we call gaining
a livelihood, the knowledge of greatest
value is—Science. For the due dis
charge of parental functions, the proper
guidance is to be found only in—Science.
For that interpretation of national life,
past and present, without which the
citizen cannot rightly regulate his con
duct, the indispensable key is—Science.
Alike for the most perfect production
and present enjoyment of art in all its
forms, the needful preparation is still—
Science, and for purposes of discipline
—intellectual, moral, religious—the most
efficient study is, once more—Science.
The question which at first seemed so
perplexed, has become, in the course of
our inquiry, comparatively simple. We
have not to estimate the degrees of
�40
EDUCATION
importance of different orders of human conceived, or could have believed, yet is
activity, and different studies as severally this kind of knowledge only now receiving
fitting us for them; since we find that a grudging recognition in our highest
the study of Science, in its most com educational institutions. To the slowly
prehensive meaning, is the best prepara growing acquaintance with the uniform
tion for all these orders of activity. We co-existences and sequences of phe
have not to decide between the claims nomena—to the establishment of invari
of knowledge of great though conven able laws, we owe our emancipation from
tional value, and knowledge of less the grossest superstitions.
But for
though intrinsic value; seeing that the science we should be still worshipping
knowledge which proves to be of most fetishes ; or, with hecatombs of victims,
value in all other respects, is intrinsically propitiating diabolical deities. And yet
most valuable: its worth is not dependent this science, which, in place of the most
upon opinion, but is as fixed as is the degrading conceptions of things, has
relation of man to the surrounding world. given us some insight into the grandeurs
Necessary and eternal as are its truths,
of creation, is written against in our theo
all Science concerns all mankind for all logies and frowned upon from our pulpits.
time. Equally at present and in the
Paraphrasing an Eastern fable, we
remotest future, must it be of incalculable may say that in the family of knowledges,
importance for the regulation of their Science is the household drudge, who, in
conduct, that men should understand obscurity, hides unrecognised perfections.
the science of life, physical, mental, and To her has been committed all the work ;
social; and that they should understand by her skill, intelligence, and devotion,
all other science as a key to the science have all conveniences and gratifications
of life.
been obtained ; and while ceaselessly
And yet this study immensely tran ministering to the rest, she has been
scending all other in importance, is that kept in the background, that her haughty
which, in an age of boasted education, sisters might flaunt their fripperies in the
receives the least attention. While what eyes of the world. The parallel holds
we call civilisation could never have yet further. For we are fast coming to
arisen had it not been for science; the dénouement, when the positions will
science forms scarcely an appreciable be changed ; and while these haughty
element in our so-called civilised training. sisters sink into merited neglect, Science,
Though to the progress of science we proclaimed as highest alike in worth and
owe it, that millions find support where beauty, will reign supreme.
once there was food only for thousands;
yet of these millions but a few thousands
pay any respect to that which has made
their existence possible. Though in
creasing knowledge of the properties
CHAPTER II.
and relations of things has not only
enabled wandering tribes to grow into
INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION
populous nations, but has given to the
There cannot fail to be a relationship
countless members of these populous
between the successive systems of edu
nations, comforts and pleasures which
their few naked ancestors never even cation, and the successive social states
�INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION
with which they have co-existed. Having
a common origin in the national mind,
the institutions of each epoch, whatever
be their special functions, must have a
family likeness. When men received
.
their creed and its interpretations from
' an infallible authority deigning no expla
nations, it was natural that the teaching
of children should be purely dogmatic.
While “believe and ask no questions ”
was the maxim of the Church, it was
fitly the maxim of the school. Conversely,
/now that Protestantism has gained for
adults a right of private judgment and
established the practice of appealing to
reason, there is harmony in the change
that has made juvenile instruction a
process of exposition addressed to the
A. understanding.
Along with political
despotism, stern in its commands, ruling
by force of terror, visiting trifling crimes
with death, and implacableinits vengeance
on the disloyal, there necessarily grew up
academic discipline similarly harsh—a
discipline of multiplied injunctions and
blows for every breach of them — a
discipline of unlimited autocracy upheld
by rods, and ferules, and the black-hole.
On the other hand, the increase of
political liberty, the abolition of laws
restricting individual action, and the
amelioration of the criminal code, have
been accompanied by a kindred progress
towards non-coercive education: the pupil
is hampered by fewer restraints, and other
means than punishments are used to
govern him.
In those ascetic days
when men, acting on the greatest-misery
principle, held that the more gratifications
they denied themselves the more virtuous
they were, they, as a matter of course,
considered that the best education which
most thwarted the wishes of their children,
and cut short all spontaneous activity
with—“You mustn’t do so.” While,
on the contrary, now that happiness is
41
coming to be regarded as a legitimate
aim—now that hours of labour are beine;
shortened and popular recreations pro
vided; parents and teachers are beginning
to see that most childish desires may
rightly be gratified, that childish sports
should be encouraged, and that the
tendencies of the growing mind are not
altogether so diabolical as was supposed.
The age in which all believed that trades
must be established by bounties and
prohibitions ; that manufacturers needed
their materials and qualities and prices
to be prescribed ; and that the value of
money could be determined by law;
was an age which unavoidably cherished
the notions that a child’s mind could be
made to order ; that its powers were to
be imparted by the schoolmaster; that
it was a receptacle into which knowledge
was to be put, and there built up after
the teacher’s ideal. In this free-trade
era, however, when we are learning that
there is much more self-regulation ' in
things than was supposed ; that labour,
and commerce, and agriculture, and
navigation, can do better without manage
ment than with it ; that political govern
ments, to be efficient, must grow up from
within and not be imposed from without ;
we are also being taught that there is a
natural process of mental evolution which
is not to be disturbed without injury;
that we may not force on the unfolding
mind our artificial forms ; but that
psychology, also, discloses to us a law
of supply and demand, to which, if we
would not do harm, we must conform.
Thus, alike in its oracular dogmatism, in
its harsh discipline, in its multiplied
restrictions, in its professed asceticism,
and in its faith in the devices of men,
the old educational regime was akin to
the social systems with which it was
contemporaneous ; and similarly in the
reverse of these characteristics, our modern
�42
EDUCATION
Erodes of culture correspond to our more
liberal religious and political institutions.
But there remain further parallelisms
to which we have not yet adverted : that,
namely, between the processes by which
these respective changes have been
wrought out; and that between the
several states of heterogeneous opinion
to which they have led. Some centuries
ago there was uniformity of belief —religious, political, and educational.
All men were Romanists, all were
Monarchists, all were disciples of
Aristotle; and no one thought of calling
in question that grammar-school routine
under which all were brought up. The
same agency has in each case replaced
this uniformity by a constantly-increasing
diversity. That tendency towards asser
tion of the individuality, which, after
contributing to produce the great Pro
testant movement, has since gone on to
produce an ever-increasing number of
sects — that tendency which initiated
political parties, and out of the two
primary ones has, in these modern days,
evolved a multiplicity to which every
year adds—that tendency which led to
the Baconian rebellion against the schools,
and has since originated here and abroad,
sundry new systems of thought—is a
tendency which, in education also, has
caused divisions and the accumulation
of methods. As external consequences
of the same internal change, these
processes have necessarily been more
or less simultaneous. The decline of
authority, whether papal, philosophic,
kingly, or tutoral, is essentially one
phenomenon; in each of its aspects a
leaning towards free action is seen alike
in the working out of the change itself,
and in the new forms of theory and prac
tice to which the change has given birth.
While many will regret this multiplica
tion of schemes of juvenile culture, the
catholic observer will discern in it a
means of ensuring the final establishment
of a rational system. Whatever may be
thought of theological dissent, it is clear
that dissent in education results in
facilitating inquiry by the division in
labour. Were we in possession of the
true method, divergence from it would,
of course, be prejudicial; but the
true method having to be found, the
efforts of numerous independent seekers
carrying out their researches in different
directions, constitute a better agency for
finding it than any that could be devised.
Each of them struck by some new thought
which probably contains more or less of
basis in facts—each of them zealous on
behalf of his plan, fertile in expedients
to test its correctness, and untiring in
his efforts to make known its success—
each of them merciless in his criticism
on the rest; there cannot fail, by compo
sition of forces, to be a gradual approxi
mation of all towards the right course.
Whatever portion of the normal method
any one has discovered, must, by the
constant exhibition of its results, force
itself into adoption; whatever wrong
practices he has joined with it must, by
repeated experiment and failure, be
exploded. And by this aggregation of
truths and elimination of errors, there
must eventually be developed a correct
and complete body of doctrine. Of the
three phases through which human
opinion passes—the unanimity of the
ignorant, the disagreement of the in
quiring, and the unanimity of the wise—
it is manifest that the second is the
parent of the third. They are not se
quences in time only, they are sequences
in causation.
However impatiently,
therefore, we may witness the present
conflict of educational systems, and how
ever much we may regret its accompany
ing evils, we must recognise it as a
�INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION '
transition stage needful to be passed
through, and beneficent in its ultimate
effects.
Meanwhile, may we not advantageously
take stock of our progress ? After fifty
years of discussion, experiment, and
comparison of results, may we not expect
a few steps towards the goal to be already
made good? Some old methods must
by this time have fallen out of use; some
new ones must have become established;
and many others must be in process
of general abandonment' or adoption.
Probably we may see in these various
changes, when put side by side, similar
characteristics—may find in them a
common tendency; and so, by inference,
may get a clue to the direction in which
experience is leading us, and gather
hints how we may achieve yet further
improvements. Let us then, as a pre
liminary to a deeper consideration of the
matter, glance at the leading contrasts
between the education of the past and
that of the present.
The suppression of every error is
commonly followed by a temporary
ascendency of the contrary one ; and so
it happened, that after the ages when
physical development alone was aimed
at, there came an age when culture of
the mind was the sole solicitude—when
children had lesson-books put before
them at between two and three years
old, and the getting of knowledge was
thought the one thing needful. As,
further, it usually happens that after one
of these reactions the next advance is
achieved by co-ordinating the antagonist
errors, and perceiving that they are
opposite sides of one truth; so, we are
now coming to the conviction that body
and mind must both be cared for, and
the whole being unfolded. The forcing
system has been by many given up; and
43
precocity is discouraged.
People are
beginning to see that the first requisite
to success in life is to be a good animal.
The best brain is found of little service,
if there be not enough vital energy to
work it; and hence to obtain the one
by sacrificing the source of the other, is
now considered a folly—a folly which
the eventual failure of juvenile prodigies
constantly illustrates.
Thus we are
discovering the wisdom of the saying,
that one secret in education is “ to know
how wisely to lose time.”
The once universal practice of learning
by rote is daily falling into discredit.
All modern authorities condemn the
old mechanical way of teaching the
alphabet. The multiplication table is
now frequently taught experimentally.
In the acquirement of languages, the
grammar-school plan is being superseded
by plans based on the spontaneous
process followed by the child in gaining
its mother tongue.
Describing the
methods there used, the Reports on the
Training School at Battersea say :—
“The instruction in the whole pre
paratory course is chiefly oral, and is
illustrated as much as possible by
appeals to nature.” And so throughout.
The rote-system, like all other systems
of its age, made more of the forms and
symbols than of the things symbolised.
To repeat the words correctly was every
thing ; to understand their meaning,
nothing; and thus the spirit was sacrificed
to the letter. It is at length perceived
that, in this case as in others, such a
result is not accidental but necessary—
that in proportion as there is attention
to the signs, there must be inattention
to the things signified; or that, as
Montaigne long ago said—S^avoir par
coeur n’est pas s^avoir.
Along with rote-teaching, is declining
also the nearly-allied teaching by rules.
�44
EDUCATION
The particulars first, and then the
generalisations, is the new method—a
method, as the Battersea School Reports
remark, which, though “the reverse of
the method usually followed, which con
sists in giving the pupil the rule first,” is
yet proved by experience to be the right
one. Rule-teaching is now condemned
as imparting a merely empirical know
ledge—as producing an appearance of
understanding without the reality. To
give the net product of inquiry, without
the inquiry that leads to it, is found to
be both enervating and inefficient.
General truths to be of due and per
manent use, must be earned. “ Easy
come easy go,” is a saying as applicable
to knowledge as to wealth. While rules,
lying isolated in the mind—not joined to
its other contents as out-growths from
them—are continually forgotten; the
principles which those rules express
piecemeal, become, when once reached
by the understanding, enduring posses
sions. While the rule-taught youth is at
sea when beyond his rules, the youth
instructed in principles solves a new
case as readily as an old one. Between
a mind of rules and a mind of principles,
there exists a difference such as that
between a confused heap of materials,
and the same materials organised into a
complete whole, with all its parts bound
together. Of which types this last has
not only the advantage that its con
stituent parts are better retained, but the
much greater advantage that it forms an
efficient agent for inquiry, for indepen
dent thought, for discovery—ends for
which the first is useless. Nor let it be
supposed that this is a simile only : it is
the literal truth. The union of facts
into generalisations is the organisation
of knowledge, whether considered as an
objective phenomenon or a subjective
one; and the mental grasp may be
measured by the extent to which this
organisation is carried.
From the substitution of principles for
rules, and the necessarily co-ordinate
practice of leaving abstractions untaught
till the mind has been familiarised with
the facts from which they are abstracted,
has resulted the postponement of some
once early studies to a late period. This
is exemplified in the abandonment of
that intensely stupid custom, the teach
ing of grammar to children. As M.
Marcel says :—“ It may without hesita
tion be affirmed that grammar is not
the stepping-stone, but the finishing
instrument.” As Mr. Wyse argues:—
“Grammar and Syntax are a collection
of laws and rules. Rules are gathered
from practice; they are the results of
induction to which we come by long
observation and comparison of facts. It
is, in fine, the science, the philosophy of
language. In following the process of
nature, neither individuals nor nations
ever arrive at the science first. A
language is spoken, and poetry written,
many years before either a grammar or
prosody is even thought of. Men did
not wait till Aristotle had constructed
his logic, to reason.” In short, as
grammar was made after language, so
ought it to be taught after language : an
inference which all who recognise the
relationship between the evolution of the
race and that of the individual, will see
to be unavoidable.
Of new practices that have grown up
during the decline of these old ones, the
most important is the systematic culture
of the powers of observation. After long
ages of blindness, men are at last seeing
that the spontaneous activity of the
observing faculties in children, has a
meaning and a use. What was once
thought mere purposeless action, or play,
or mischief, as the case might be, is now
�INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION
recognised as the process of acquiring a
knowledge on which all after-knowledge
is based. Hence the well-conceived but
ill-conducted system of object-lessons.
The saying of Bacon, that physics is the
mother of the sciences, has come to have
a meaning in education. Without an
accurate acquaintance with the visible
and tangible properties of things, our
conceptions must be erroneous, our
inferences fallacious, and our operations
unsuccessful. “ The education of the
senses neglected, all after education
partakes of a drowsiness, a haziness, an
insufficiency which it is impossible to
cure.” Indeed, if we consider it, we
shall find that exhaustive observation is
an element in all great success. It is
not to artists, naturalists, and men of
science only, that it is needful; it is not
only that the physician depends on it for
the correctness of his diagnosis, and that
to the engineer it is so important that
some years in the workshop are pre
scribed to him ; but we may see that the
philosopher, also, is fundamentally one
who observes relationships of things which
others had overlooked, and that the
poet, too, is one who sees the fine facts
in nature which all recognise when
pointed out, but did not before remark.
Nothing requires more to be insisted on
than that vivid and complete impressions
are all-essential. No sound fabric of
wisdom can be woven out of a rotten
raw material.
While the old method of presenting •
truths in the abstract has been falling
out of use, there has been a correspond
ing adoption of the new method of
presenting them in the concrete. The
rudimentary facts of exact science are
now being learnt by direct intuition, as
textures, and tastes, and colours are
learnt. Employing the ball-frame for
first lessons in arithmetic, exemplifies
45
this. It is well illustrated, too, in Pro
fessor De Morgan’s mode of explaining
the decimal notation. M. Marcel, rightly
repudiating the old system of tables,
teaches weights and measures by refer
ring to the actual yard and foot, pound
and ounce, gallon and quart; and lets
the discovery of their relationships be
experimental. The use of geographical
models and models of the regular bodies,
etc., as introductory to geography and
geometry respectively, are facts of the
same class. Manifestly, a common trait
of these methods is, that they carry each
child’s mind through a process like that
which the mind of humanity at large has
gone through. The truths of number, of
form, of relationship in position, were all
originally drawn from objects; and to
present these truths to the child in the
concrete, is to let him learn them as the
race learnt them. By and by, perhaps,
it will be seen that he cannot possibly
learn them in any other way; for that if
he is made to repeat them as abstrac
tions, the abstractions can have no
meaning for him, until he finds that they
are simply statements of what he intui
tively discerns.
But of all the changes taking place,
the most significant is the growing desire
to make the acquirement of knowledge
pleasurable rather than painful—a desire
based on the more or less distinct per
ception, that at each age the intellectual
action which a child likes is a healthy
one for it; and conversely. There is a
spreading opinion that the rise of an
appetite for any kind of information,
implies that the unfolding mind has
become fit to assimilate it, and needs it
for purposes of growth ; and that, on the
other hand, the disgust felt towards such
information is a sign either that it is
prematurely presented, or that it is pre
sented in an indigestible form. Hence
�46
EDUCATION
the efforts to make early education
amusing, and all education interesting.
Hence the lectures on the value of play.
Hence the defence of nursery rhymes
and fairy tales. Daily we more and
more conform our plans to juvenile
opinion. Does the child like this or
that kind kind of teaching?—does he
take to it ? we constantly ask. “ His
natural desire of variety should be in
dulged,” says M. Marcel; “and the grati
fication of his curiosity should be com
bined with his improvement.” “Lessons,”
he again remarks, “should cease before
the child evinces symptoms of weariness.”
And so with later education.
Short
breaks during school-hours, excursions
into the country, amusing lectures, choral
songs—in these and many like traits,
the change may be discerned. Asceti
cism is disappearing out of education as
out of life; and the usual test of political
legislation—its tendency to promote
happiness—is beginning to be, in a great
degree, the test of legislation for the
school and the nursery. What now is
the common characteristic of these
several changes ? Is it not an increas
ing conformity to the methods of
Nature ? The relinquishment of early
forcing, against which Nature rebels, and
the leaving of the first years for exercise
of the limbs and senses, show this.
The superseding of rote-learnt lessons
by lessons orally and experimentally
given, like those of the field and play
ground, shows this. The disuse of rule
teaching, and the adoption of teaching
by principles—that is, the leaving of
generalisations until there are particulars
to base them on—show this. The sys
tem of object-lessons shows this. The
teaching of the rudiments of science in
the concrete instead of the abstract,
shows this. And above all, this ten
dency is shown in the variously-directed
efforts to present knowledge in attractive
forms, and so to make the acquirement
of it pleasurable. For, as it is the order
of Nature in all creatures that the grati
fication accompanying the fulfilment of
needful functions serves as a stimulus to
their fulfilment—as, during the self-edu
cation of the young child, the delight
taken in the biting of corals and the
pulling to pieces of toys, becomes the
prompter to actions which teach it the
properties of matter; it follows that, in
choosing the succession of subjects and
the modes of instruction which most
interest the pupil, we are fulfilling
Nature’s behests, adjusting our proceed
ings to the laws of life.
Thus, then, we are on the highway
towards the doctrine long ago enunciated
by Pestalozzi, that alike in its order and
its methods, education must conform to
the natural process of mental evolution
—that there is a certain sequence in
which the faculties spontaneously develop,
and a certain kind of knowledge which
each requires during its development;
and that it is for us to ascertain this
sequence, and supply this knowledge.
All the improvements above alluded to
are partial applications of this general
principle. A nebulous perception of it
now prevails among teachers; and it is
daily more insisted on in educational
works. “ The method of nature is the
archetype of all methods,” says M.
Marcel. “ The vital principle in the
pursuit is to enable the pupil rightly to
instruct himself,” writes Mr. Wyse. The
more science familiarises us with the
constitution of things, the more do we
see in them an inherent self-sufficingness.
A higher knowledge tends continually to
limit our interference with the processes
of life. As in medicine the old “ heroic
treatment ” has given place to mild treat
ment, and often no treatment save a
�INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION
normal regimen—as we have found that
it is not needful to mould bodies of
babes by bandaging them in papoosefashiun or otherwise—as in gaols it is
being discovered that no cunninglydevised discipline of ours is so efficient
in producing reformation as the natural
discipline of self-maintenance by produc
tive labour ; so in education, we are
finding that success is to be achieved
only by making our measures subservient
to that spontaneous unfolding which all
minds go through in their progress to
maturity.
Of course, this fundamental principle
of tuition, that the arrangement of matter
and method must correspond with the
order of evolution and mode of activity
of the faculties—a principle so obviously
true, that once stated it seems almost
self-evident—has never been wholly dis
regarded. Teachers have unavoidably
made their school-courses coincide with
it in some degree, for the simple reason
that education is possible only on that
condition. Boys were never taught the
rule-of-three until they had learnt addi
tion. They were not set to write
exercises before they had got into their
copy-books. Conic sections have always
been preceded by Euclid. But the error
of the old methods consists in this, that
they do not recognise in detail what they
are obliged to recognise in general.
Yet the principle applies throughout.
If from the time when a child is able
to conceive two things as related in
position, years must elapse before it can
form a true concept of the Earth, as a
sphere made up of land and sea, covered
with mountains, forests, rivers, and cities,
revolving on its axis, and sweeping round
the Sun—if it gets from the one concept
to the other by degrees—if the inter
mediate concepts which it forms are
consecutively larger and more compli
47
cated ; is it not manifest that there is a
general succession through which alone
it can pass; that each larger concept is
made by the combination of smaller
ones, and presupposes them ; and that
to present any of these compound con
cepts before the child is in possession of
its constituent ones, is only less absurd
than to present the final concept of the
series before the initial one. In the
mastering of every subject some course
of increasingly complex ideas has to be
gone through. The evolution of the
corresponding faculties consists in the
assimilation of these; which, in any
true sense, is impossible without they
are put into the mind in the normal
order. And when this order is not
followed, the result is, that they are
received with apathy or disgust; and
that unless the pupil is intelligent enough
eventually to fill up the gaps himself,
they lie in his memory as dead facts,
capable of being turned to little or no
use.
“ But why trouble ourselves about any
curriculum at all ?” it may be asked. “ If
it be true that the mind like the body
has a predetermined course of evolution
—if it unfolds spontaneously—if its
successive desires for this or that kind
of information arise when these are
severally required for its nutrition—if
there thus exists in itself a prompter to
the right species of activity at the right
time; why interfere in any way ? Why
not leave children wholly to the discipline
of nature?—why not remain quite pas
sive and let them get knowledge as they
best can ?—why not be consistent
throughout ?” This is an awkwardlooking question. Plausibly implying
as it does, that a system of complete
laissez-faire is the logical outcome of the
doctrines set forth, it seems to furnish a
disproof of them by reductio ad absurdum.
�48
EDUCATION
In truth, however, they do not, when
rightly understood, commit us to any
such untenable position. A glance at
the physical analogies will clearly show
this. It is a general law of life tha the
t
*
more complex the organism to be pro
duced, the longer the period during
which it is dependent on a parent
organism for food and protection. The
difference between the minute, rapidlyformed, and self-moving spore of a
conferva, and the slowly-developed seed
of a tree, with its multiplied envelopes
and large stock of nutriment laid by to
nourish the germ during its first stages
of growth, illustrates this law in its
application to the vegetal world. Among
anirrials we may trace it in a series of
contrasts from the monad whose spon
taneously-divided halves are as selfsufficing the moment after their separa
tion as was the original whole; up to
man, whose offspring not only passes
through a protracted gestation, and
subsequently long depends on the breast
for sustenance; but after that must have
its food artificially administered; must,
when it has learned to feed itself, con
tinue to have bread, clothing, and shelter
provided; and does not acquire the
power of complete self-support until a
time varying from fifteen to twenty years
after its birth. Now this law applies to
the mind as to the body. For mental
pabulum also, every higher creature, and
especially man, is at first dependent on
adult aid. Lacking the ability to move
about, the babe is almost as powerless
to get materials on which to exercise its
perceptions as it is to get supplies for its
stomach. Unable to prepare its own
food, it is in like manner unable to reduce
many kinds of knowledge to a fit form
for assimilation. The language through
which all higher truths are to be gained,
it wholly derives from those surrounding
it. And we see in such an example as
the Wild Boy of Aveyron, the arrest of
development that results when no help
is received from parents and nurses.
Thus, in providing from day to day the
right kind of facts, prepared in the right
manner, and giving them in due abun
dance at appropriate intervals, there is
as much scope for active ministration to
a child’s mind as to its body. In either
case, it is the chief function of parents
to see that the conditions requisite to
growth are maintained. And as, in
supplying aliment, and clothing, and
shelter, they may fulfil this function
without at all interfering with the spon
taneous development of the limbs and
viscera, either in their order or mode;
so, they may supply sounds for imitation,
objects for examination, books for read
ing, problems for solution, and, if they
use neither direct nor indirect coercion,
may do this without in any way disturbing
the normal process of mental evolution;
or rather, may greatly facilitate that
process. Hence the admission of the
doctrines enunciated does not, as some
might argue, involve the abandonment
of teaching; but leaves ample room
for an active and elabcrate course of
culture.
Passing from generalities to special
considerations, it is to be remarked that
in practice, the Pestalozzian system
seems scarcely to have fulfilled the
promise of its theory. We hear of
children not at all interested in its
lessons,—disgusted with them rather ;
and, so far as we can gather, the Pesta
lozzian schools have not turned out any
unusual proportion of distinguished men:
if even they have reached the average.
We are not surprised at this. The
success of every appliance depends
mainly upon the intelligence with which
�INTELLECTUAL ED UCA TION
it is used, it is a trite remark that,
having the choicest tools, an unskilled
artisan will botch his work; and bad
teachers will fail even with the best
methods. Indeed, the goodness of the
method becomes in such case a cause
of failure; as, to continue the simile,
the perfection of the tool becomes in
undisciplined hands a source of imper
fection in results. A simple, unchanging,
almost mechanical routine of tuition,
may be carried out by the commonest
intellects, with such small beneficial
effect as it is capable of producing; but
a complete system—a system as hetero
geneous in its appliances as the mind in
its faculties—a system proposing a special
means for each special end, demands
for its right employment powers such as
few teachers possess. The mistress of
a dame-school can hear spelling-lessons ;
and any hedge-schoolmaster can drill
boys in the multiplication table. But to
teach spelling rightly, by using the
powers of the letters instead of their
names, or to instruct in numerical com
binations by experimental synthesis, a
modicum of understanding is needful;
and to pursue a like rational course
throughout the entire range of studies,
asks an amount of judgment, of invention,
of intellectual sympathy, of analytical
faculty, which we shall never see applied
to it while the tutorial office is held in
such small esteem. Tjue education is
practicable only by a true philosopher.
J udge then, what prospect a philosophical
method now has of being acted out!
Knowing so little as we yet do of psycho
logy, and ignorant as our teachers are of
that little, what chance has a system
which requires psychology for its basis ?
Further hindrance and discouragement
has arisen from confounding the Pestalozzian principle with the forms in which
it has been embodied. Because particular
49
plans have not answered expectation,
discredit has been cast upon the doctrine
associated with them : no inquiry being
made whether these plans truly conform
to the doctrine. Judging as usual by
the concrete rather than the abstract,
men have blamed the theory for the
bunglings of the practice. It is as though
the first futile attempt to construct a
steam-engine had been held to prove
that steam could not be used as a motive
power. Let it be constantly borne in
mind that while right in his fundamental
ideas, Pestalozzi was not therefore right
in all his applications of them. As
described even by his admirers, Pesta
lozzi was a man of partial intuitions—a
man who had occasional flashes of
insight; rather than a man of systematic
thought.
His first great success at
Stantz was achieved when he had no
books or appliances of ordinary teaching,
and when “ the only object of his atten
tion was to find out at each moment
what instruction his children stood pecu
liarly in need of, and what was the best
manner of connecting it with the know
ledge they already possessed.” Much
of his power was due, not to calmly
reasoned-out plans of culture, but to his
profound sympathy, which gave him a
quick perception of childish needs and
difficulties. He lacked the ability
logically to co-ordinate and develop the
truths which he thus from time to time
laid hold of; and had in great measure
to leave this to his assistants, Kruesi,
Tobler, Buss, Niederer, and Schmid.
The result is, that in their details his
own plans, and those vicariously devised,
contain numerous crudities and incon
sistencies. His nursery-method, described
in The Mother’s Manual, beginning as
it does with a nomenclature of the
different parts of the body, and pro
ceeding next to specify their relative
�50
EDUCATION
positions, and next their connections,
. may be proved not at all in accordance
with the initial stages of mental evolu
tion.
His process of teaching the
mother-tongue by formal exercises in
the meanings of words in the construc
tion of sentences, is quite needless, and
must entail on the pupil loss of time,
labour and happiness. His proposed
lessons in geography are utterly unpesta$ lozzian. And often where his plans are
essentially sound, they are either incom
plete or vitiated by some remnant of
the old regime. While, therefore, we
would defend in its entire extent the
general doctrine which Pestalozzi inaugu
rated, we think great evil likely to result
from an uncritical reception of his
specific methods. That tendency, con
stantly exhibited by mankind, to canonise
the forms and practices along with which
any great truth has been bequeathed to
them—their liability to prostrate their
intellects before the prophet, and swear
by his every word—their proneness to
mistake the clothing of the idea for the
idea itself ; renders it ne'edful to insist
strongly upon the distinction between
the fundamental principle of the Pestalozzian system, and the set of expedients
devised for its practice ; and to suggest
that while the one may be considered as
established, the other is probably nothing
but an adumbration of the normal
course. Indeed, on looking at the state
of our knowledge, we may be quite sure
that this is the case. Before educational
methods can be made to harmonise in
character and arrangement with the
faculties in their mode and order of
unfolding, it is first needful that we
ascertain with some completeness how
the faculties do unfold. At present we
have acquired, on this point, only a few
general notions. These general notions
must be developed in detail—must be
transformed into a multitude of specific
propositions, before we can be said to
possess that science on which the art of
education must be based. And then,
when we have definitely made out in
what succession and in what combina
tions the mental powers become active,
it remains to choose out of the many
possible- ways of exercising each of
them, that which best conforms to its
natural mode of action.
Evidently,
therefore, it is not to be supposed that
even our most advanced modes of
teaching are the right ones, or nearly the
right ones.
Bearing in mind then this distinction
between the principle and the practice
of Pestalozzi, and inferring from the
grounds assigned that the last must
necessarily be very defective, the reader
will rate at its true worth the dissatisfac
tion with the system which some have
expressed; and will see that the realisa
tion of the Pestalozzian idea remains to
be achieved. Should he argue, however,
from what has just been said, that no
such realisation is at present practicable,
and that all effort ought to be devoted
to the preliminary inquiry; we reply,
that though it is not possible for a
scheme of culture to be perfected either
in matter or form until a rational psycho
logy has been established, it is possible,
with the aid of certain guiding prin
ciples, to make empirical approximations
towards a perfect scheme. To prepare
the way for further research we will now
specify these principles. Some of them
have been more or less distinctly implied
in the foregoing pages; but it will be
well here to state them all in logical
order.
i. That in education we should pro
ceed from the simple to the complex, is
a truth which has always been to some
�INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION
extent acted upon : not professedly,
indeed, nor by any means consistently.
The mind develops. Like all things
that develop it progresses from the
homogeneous to the heterogeneous ; and
a normal training system, being an
objective counterpart of this subjective
process, must exhibit a like progression.
Moreover thus interpreting it, we may
see that this formula has much wider
applications than at first appears. For
its rationale involves, not only that we
should proceed from the single to the
combined in the teaching of each branch
of knowledge; but that we should do
the like with knowledge as a whole. As
the mind, consisting at first of but few
active faculties, has its later-completed
faculties successively brought into play,
and ultimately comes to have all its
faculties in simultaneous action; it
follows that our teaching should begin
with but few subjects at once, and suc
cessively adding to these, should finally
carry on all subjects abreast. Not only
in its details should education proceed
from the simple to the complex, but in
its ensemble also.
2.The development of the mind, as
all other development, is an advance
from the indefinite to the definite. In
common with the rest of the organism,
the brain reaches its finished structure
only at maturity; and in proportion as
its structure is unfinished, its actions are
wanting in precision. Hence like the
first movements and the first attempts
at speech, the first perceptions and
thoughts are extremely vague. As from
a rudimentary eye, discerning only the
difference between light and darkness,
the progress is to an eye that distinguishes
kinds and gradations of colour, and
details of form, with the greatest exact
ness ; so, the intellect as a whole and in
each faculty, beginning with the rudest
discriminations among objects and
actions, advances towards discrimina
tions of increasing nicety and distinct
ness. To this general law our educa
tional course and methods must conform.
It is not practicable, nor would it be
desirable if practicable, to put precise
ideas into the undeveloped mind. We
may indeed at an early age communicate
the verbal forms in which such ideas are
wrapped up; and teachers, who habitually
do this, suppose that when the verbal
forms have been correctly learnt, the
ideas which should fill them have been
acquired. But a brief cross-examination
of the pupil proves the contrary. It
turns out either that the words have
been committed to memory with little
or no thought about their meaning, or
else that the perception of their meaning
which has been gained is a very cloudy
one. Only as the multiplication of
experiences gives materials for definite
conceptions—only as observation year
by year discloses the less conspicuous
attributes which distinguish things and
processes previously confounded together
—only as each class of co-enstences
and sequences becomes familiar through
the recurrence of cases coming under it
—only as the various classes of relations
get accurately marked off from each
other by mutual limitation; can the
exact definitions of advanced knowledge
become truly comprehensible. Thus in
education we must be content to set out
with crude notions. These we must aim
to make gradually clearer by facilitating
the acquisition of experiences such as
will correct, first their greatest errors,
and afterwards their successively less
marked errors. And the scientific
formulae must be given only as fast as
the conceptions are perfected.
3. To say that our lessons ought to
start from the concrete and end in the
�52
EDUCATION
abstract, may be considered as in part a
repetition of the first of the foregoing
principles. Nevertheless it is a maxim
that must be stated: if with no other
view, then with the view of showing in
certain cases what are truly the simple
and the complex. For unfortunately
there has been much misunderstanding
on this point. General formulas which
men have devised to express groups of
details, and which have severally simpli
fied their conceptions by uniting many
facts into one fact, they have supposed
must simplify the conceptions of a child
also. They have forgotten that a
generalisation is simple only in com
parison with the whole mass of particular
truths it comprehends—that it is more
complex than any one of these truths
taken singly—that only after many of
these single truths have been acquired,
does the generalisation ease the memory
and help the reason—and that to a mind
not possessing these single truths it is
necessarily a mystery. Thus confounding
two kinds of simplification, teachers
have constantly erred by setting out
with “first principles”: a proceeding
essentially, though not apparently, at
variance with the primary rule; which
implies that the mind should be intro
duced to principles through the medium
of examples, and so should be led from
the particular to the general—from the
concrete to the abstract.
4. The education of the child must
accord both in mode and arrangement
with the education of mankind, con
sidered historically. In other words, the
genesis of knowledge in the individual,
must follow the same course as the
genesis of knowledge in the race. In
strictness, this principle may be con
sidered as already expressed by implica
tion ; since both being processes of
evolution, must conform to those same
general laws of evolution above insisted
on, and must therefore agree with each
other.
Nevertheless this particular
parallelism is of value for the specific
guidance it affords. To M. Comte we
believe society owes the enunciation of
it; and we may accept this item of his
philosophy without at all committing
ourselves to the rest. This doctrine
may be upheld by two reasons, quite
independent of any abstract theory;
and either of them sufficient to establish
it. One is deducible from the law of
hereditary transmission as considered in
its wider consequences. For if it be
true that men exhibit likeness to
ancestry, both in aspect and character—
if it be true that certain mental mani
festations, as insanity, occur in successive
members of the same family at the same
age—if, passing from individual cases in
which the traits of many dead ancestors
mixing with those of a few living ones
greatly obscure the law, we turn to
national types, and remark how the con
trasts between them are persistent from
age to age—if we remember that these
respective types came from a common
stock, and that hence the present marked
differences between them must have
arisen from the action of modifying
circumstances upon successive genera
tions who severally transmitted the
accumulated effects to their descendants
—if we find the differences to be now
organic, so that a French child grows
into a French man even when brought
up among strangers—and if the general
fact thus illustrated is true of the whole
nature, intellect inclusive; then it follows
that if there be an order in which the
human race has mastered its various
kinds of knowledge, there will arise in
every child an aptitude to acquire these
kinds of knowledge in the same order.
So that even were the order intrinsically
�INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION
indifferent, it would facilitate education
to lead the individual mind through the
steps traversed by the general mind. But
the order is not intrinsically indifferent;
and hence the fundamental reason why
education should be a repetition of
civilisation in little. It is provable both
that the historical sequence was, in its
main outlines, a necessary one; and that
the causes which determined it apply to
the child as to. the race. Not to specify
these causes in detail, it will suffice here
to point out that as the mind of humanity
placed in the midst of phenomena and
striving to comprehend them, has, after
endless comparisons, speculations, experi
ments, and theories, reached its present
knowledge of each subject by a specific
route; it may rationally be inferred that
the relationship between mind and phe
nomena is such as to prevent this know
ledge from being reached by any other
route; and that as each child’s mind
stands in this same relationship to phe
nomena, they can be accessible to it
oply through the same route. Hence in
deciding upon the right method of edu
cation, an inquiry into the method of
civilisation will help to guide us.
5. One of the conclusions to which
such an inquiry leads, is, that in each
branch of instruction we should proceed
from the empirical to the rational.
During human progress, every science
is evolved out of its corresponding art.
It results from the necessity we are
under, both individually and as a race,
of reaching the abstract by way of the
concrete, that there must be practice
and an accruing experience with its
empirical generalisations, before there
can be science. Science is organised
knowledge; and before knowledge can
be organised, some of it must be pos
sessed. Every study, therefore, should
have a purely experimental introduction ;
53
and only after an ample fund of observa
tions has been accumulated, should
reasoning begin. As illustrative appli
cations of this rule, we may instance the
modern course of placing grammar, not
before language, but after it; or the
ordinary custom of prefacing perspec
tive by practical drawing. By and by
further applications of it will be indi
cated.
6. A second corollary from the fore
going general principle, and one which
cannot be too strenuously insisted on, is,
that in education the process of self
development should be encouraged to
the uttermost. Children should be led
to make their own investigations, and to
draw their own inferences. They should
be told as little as possible, and induced
to discover as much as possible.
Humanity has progressed solely by self
instruction ; and that to achieve the
best results, each mind must progress
somewhat after the same fashion, is con
tinually proved by the marked success
of self-made men. Those who have
been brought up under the ordinary
school-drill, and have carried away with
them the idea that education is prac
ticable only in that style, will think it
hopeless to make children their own
teachers. If, however, they will consider
that the all-important knowledge of sur
rounding objects which a child gets in
its early years, is got without help—if
they will remember that the child is selftaught in the use of its mother tongue—
if they will estimate the amount of that
experience of life, that out-of-school
wisdom, which every boy gathers for
himself—if they will mark the unusual
intelligence of the uncared-for London
gamin, as shown in whatever directions
his faculties have been tasked—if, further,
they will think how many minds have
struggled up unaided, not only through
�54
■ EDUCATION
the mysteries of our irrationally-planned
curriculum, but through hosts of other
obstacles besides; they will find it a not
unreasonable conclusion, that if the
subjects be put before him in right
order and right form, any pupil of
ordinary capacity will surmount his suc
cessive difficulties with but little assis
tance. Who indeed can watch the cease
less observation, and inquiry, and infer
ence going on in a child’s mind, or listen
to its acute remarks on matters within the
range of its faculties, without perceiving
that these powers it manifests, if brought
to bear systematically upon studies within
the same range, would readily master
them without help ? This need for per
petual telling results from our stupidity,
not from the child’s. We drag it away
from the facts in which it is interested,
and which it is actively assimilating of
itself. We put before it facts far too
complex for it to understand; and there
fore distasteful to it. Finding that it
will not voluntarily acquire these facts,
we thrust them into its mind by force
of threats and punishment. By thus
denying the knowledge it craves, and
cramming it with knowledge it cannot
digest, we produce a morbid state of its
faculties; and a consequent disgust for
knowledge in general. And when, as a
result partly of the stolid indolence we
have brought on, and partly of stillcontinued unfitness in its studies, the
child can understand nothing without
explanation, and becomes a mere passive
recipient of our instruction, we infer
that education must necessarily be
carried on thus. Having by our method
induced helplessness, we make the help
lessness a reason for our method. Clearly
then, the experience of pedagogues
cannot rationally be quoted against the
system we are advocating. And who
ever sees this, will see that we may safely
follow the discipline of Nature through
out may, by a skilful ministration,
make the mind as self-developing in its
latter stages as it is in its earlier ones ;
and that only by doing this can we pro
duce the highest power and activity.
7. As a final test by which to judge
any plan of culture, should come the
question,—Does it create a pleasurable
excitement in the pupils ? When in
doubt whether a particular mode or
arrangement is or is not more in harmony
with the foregoing principles than some
other, we may safely abide by this cri
terion.
Even when, as considered
theoretically, the proposed course seems
the best, yet if it produces no interest,
or less interest than some other course,
we should relinquish it; for a child’s
intellectual instincts are more trustworthy
than our reasonings. In respect to the
knowing-faculties, we may confidently
trust in the general law, that under
normal conditions, healthful action is
pleasurable, while action which gives
pain is not healthful. Though at present
very incompletely conformed to by the
emotional nature, yet by the intellectual
nature, or at least by those parts of it
which the child exhibits, this law is
almost wholly conformed to. The re
pugnances to this and that study which
vex the ordinary teacher, are not innate,
but result from his unwise system.
Fellenberg says, “ Experience has taught
me that indolence in young persons is so
directly opposite to their natural dispo
sition to activity, that unless it is the
consequence of bad education, it is
almost invariably connected with some
constitutional defect.” And the spon
taneous activity to which children are
thus prone, is simply the pursuit of those
pleasures which the healthful exercise of
the faculties gives. It is true that some
of the higher mental powers, as yet but
�INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION
little developed in the race, and congeni
tally possessed in any considerable degree
only by the most advanced, are indis
posed to the amount of exertion required
of them.. But these, in virtue of their
very complexity, will, in a normal course
of culture, come last into exercise ; and
will therefore have no demands made on
them until the pupil has arrived at an
age when ulterior motives can be brought
into play, and an indirect pleasure made
to counterbalance a direct displeasure.
With all faculties lower than these, how
ever, the immediate gratification conse
quent on activity, is the normal stimulus ;
and under good management the only
needful stimulus. When we have to fall
back on some other, we must take the
fact as evidence that we are on the wrong
track. Experience is daily showing with
greater clearness, that there is always a
method to be found productive of interest
—even of delight; and it ever turns out
that this is the method proved by all
other tests to be the right one.
With most, these guiding principles
will weigh but'little if left in this abstract
form. Partly, therefore, to exemplify
their application, and partly with a view
of making sundry specific suggestions,
we propose now to pass from the theory
of education to the practice of it.
55
of unseen planets, the invention of calcu
lating engines, the production of great
paintings, or the composition of sym
phonies and operas. This activity of
the faculties from the very first, being
spontaneous and inevitable, the question
is whether we shall supply in due variety
the materials on which they may exer
cise themselves; and to the question so
put, none but an affirmative answer can
be given. As before said, however,
agreement with Pestalozzi’s theory does
not involve agreement with his practice ;
and here occurs a case in point. Treating
of instruction in spelling he says :
The spelling-book ought, therefore, to con
tain all the sounds of the language, and these
ought to be taught in every family from the
earliest infancy. The child who learns his
spelling-book ought to repeat them to the infant
in the cradle, before it is able to pronounce even
one of them, so that they may be deeply im
pressed upon its mind by frequent repetition.
Joining this with the suggestions for
“ a nursery method,” set down in his
Mother’s Manual, in which he makes the
names, positions, connections, numbers,
properties, and uses of the limbs and
body his first lessons, it becomes clear
that Pestalozzi’s notions on early mental
development were too crude to enable
him to devise judicious plans. Let us
consider the course which Psychology
dictates.
The earliest impressions which the
It was the opinion of Pestalozzi, and
one which has ever since his day been mind can assimilate, are the undecomgaining ground, that education of some posable sensations produced by resis
kind should begin from the cradle. tance, light, sound, etc. Manifestly,
Whoever has watched with any discern decomposable states of consciousness
ment, the wide-eyed gaze of the infant at cannot exist before the states of con
surrounding objects, knows very well that sciousness out of which they are com
education does begin thus early, whether posed. There can be no idea of form
we intend it or not; and that these until some familiarity with light in its
fingerings and suckings of everything it gradations and qualities, or resistance in
can lay hold of, these open-mouthed its different intensities, has been acquired;
listenings to every sound, are first steps for, as has been long known, we recognise
in the series which ends in the discovery visible form by means of varieties of light,
�56
EDUCATION
and tangible form by means of varieties of Nor let us omit the fact, that both
resistance. Similarly, no articulate sound
temper and health will be improved
is cognisable until the inarticulate sounds by the continual gratification resulting
which go to make it up have been learned. from a due supply of these impressions
And thus must it be in every other case. which every child so greedily assimilates.
Following, therefore, the necessary law Space, could it be spared, might here be
of progression from the simple to the well filled by some suggestions towards
complex, we should provide for the a more systematic ministration to those
infant a sufficiency of objects presenting simplest of the perceptions.
But it
different degrees and kinds of resistance,
must suffice to point out that any such
a sufficiency of objects reflecting different ministration, recognising the general law
amounts and qualities of light, and a of evolution from the indefinite to the
sufficiency of sounds contrasted in their definite, should proceed upon the corol
loudness, their pitch and their timbre. lary that in the development of every
How fully this à priori conclusion is faculty, markedly contrasted impressions
confirmed by infantile instincts, all will are the first to be distinguished; that
see on being reminded of the delight hence sounds greatly differing in loud
which every young child has in biting its ness and pitch, colours very remote from
toys, in feeling its brother’s bright jacket each other, and substances widely unlike
buttons, and pulling papa’s whiskers— in hardness or texture, should be the first
how absorbed it becomes in gazing at supplied; and that in each case the
any gaudily-painted object, to which it progression must be by slow degrees to
applies the word “ pretty,” when it can impressions more nearly allied.
pronounce it, wholly because of the bright
Passing on to object-lessons, which
colours and how its face broadens into manifestly form a natural continuation
a laugh at the tattlings of its nurse, the of this primary culture of the senses, it
snapping of a visitor’s fingers, or any is to be remarked, that the system com
- sound which it has not before heard. monly pursued is wholly at variance with
Fortunately, the ordinary practices of the the method of Nature, as exhibited alike
nursery fulfil these early requirements in infancy, in adult life, and in the course
. of education to a considerable degree. of civilisation. “The child,” says M.
Much, however, remains to be done; Marcel, “ must be shown how all the
and it is of more importance that it parts of an object are connected, etc.”;
should be done than at first appears. and the various manuals of these objectEvery faculty during that spontaneous lessons severally contain lists of the facts
activity which accompanies its evolution, which the child is to be told respecting
is capable of receiving more vivid im each of the things put before it. Now it
pressions than at any other period. needs but a glance at the daily life of the
Moreover, as these simplest elements infant to see that all the knowledge of
have to be mastered, and as the mastery things which is gained before the acquire
of them whenever achieved must take ment of speech, is self-gained—that the
time, it becomes an economy of time to qualities of hardness and weight asso
occupy this first stage of childhood,
ciated with certain appearances, the pos
during which no other intellectual action session of particular forms and colours
is possible, in gaining a complete famili by particular persons, the production of
arity with them in all their modifications.
special sounds by animals of special
�INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION
aspects, are phenomena which it observes
for itself. In manhood too, when there
are no longer teachers at hand, the obser
vations and inferences hourly required
for guidance, must be made unhelped ;
and success in life depends upon the
accuracy and completeness with which
they are made. Is it probable then, that
while the process displayed in the evolu
tion of humanity at large, is repeated
alike by the infant and the man, a
reverse process must be followed during
the period between infancy and man
hood ? and that too, even in so simple a
thing as learning the properties of objects?
Is it not obvious, on the contrary, that one
method must be pursued throughout ?
And is not Nature perpetually thrusting
this method upon us, if we had but the
wit to see it, and the humility to adopt
it? What can be more manifest than
the desire of children for intellectual
sympathy ? Mark how the infant sitting
on your knee thrusts into your face the
toy it holds, that you may look at it.
See when it makes a creak with its wet
finger on the table, how it turns and
looks at you ; does it again, and again
looks at you ; thus saying as clearly as it
can'—“ Hear this new sound.” Watch
the elder children coming into the
room exclaiming—“ Mamma, see what a
curious thing,” “ Mamma, look at this,”
“ Mamma, look at that ” : a habit which
they would continue, did not the silly
mamma tell them not to tease her.
Observe that, when out with the nursemaid, each little one runs up to her with
the new flower it has gathered, to show
her how pretty it is, and to get her also,
to say it is pretty. Listen to the eager
volubility with which every urchin
describes any novelty he has been to
see ; if only he can find some one who
will attend with any interest. Does not
the induction lie on the surface ? Is it
57
not clear that we must conform our
course to these intellectual instincts—that we must just systematise the natural
process—that we must listen to all the
child has to tell us about each object ;
must induce it to say everything it can
think of about suchobject; must occasion
ally draw its attention to facts it has not
yet observed, with the view of leading it to
notice them itself whenever they recur;
and must go on by and by to indicate or
supply new series of things for a like
exhaustive examination ? Note the way
in which, on this method, the intelligent
mother conducts her lessons. Step by
step she familiarises her little boy with
the names of the simpler attributes,
hardness, softness, colour, taste, size :
in doing which she finds him eagerly
help by bringing this to show her that it
is red, and the other to make her feel
that it is hard, as fast as she gives him
words for these properties. Each addi
tional property, as she draws his atten
tion to it in some fresh thing which he
brings her, she takes care to mention
in connection with those he already
knows ; so that by the natural tendency
to imitate, he may get into the habit of
repeating them one after another. Grad
ually as there occur cases in which he
omits to name one or more of the pro
perties he has become acquainted with,
she introduces the practice of asking him
whether there is not something more
that he can tell her about the thing he
has got. Probably he does not under
stand.
After letting him puzzle a
while she tells him ; perhaps laughing
at him a little for his failure. A few
recurrences of this and he perceives
what is to be done. When next she says
she knows something more about the
object than he has told her, his pride is
roused ; he looks at it intently ; he
thinks over all that he has heard ; and
�58
EDUCATION
the problem being easy, presently finds it with the intellectual appetites their
out. He is full of glee at his success, natural adjuncts—amour propre and the
and she sympathises with him.
In desire for sympathy; to induce by the
common with every child, he delights in union of all these an intensity of atten
the discovery of his powers. He wishes tion which insures perceptions both vivid
for more victories, and goes in quest of and complete; and to habituate the
more things about which to tell her. As mind from the beginning to that practice
his faculties unfold she adds quality after of self-help which it must ultimately
quality to his list: progressing from follow.
hardness and softness to roughness and
Object-lessons should not only be
smoothness, from colour to polish, from carried on after quite a different fashion
simple bodies to composite ones—thus
from that commonly pursued, but should
constantly complicating the problem as be extended to a range of things far
he gains competence, constantly taxing wider, and continued to a period far
his attention and memory to a greater later, than now. They should not be
extent, constantly maintaining his inte limited to the contents of the house;
rest by supplying him with new impres but should include those of the fields
sions such as his mind can assimilate,
and the hedges, the quarry and the sea
and constantly gratifying him by con shore. They should not cease with early
quests over such small difficulties as he childhood; but should be so kept up
can master. In doing this she is mani during youth, as insensibly to merge into
festly but following out that spontaneous the investigations of the naturalist and
process which was going on during a still the man of science. Here again we
earlier period—simply aiding self-evolu have but to follow Nature’s leadings.
tion; and is aiding it in the mode Where can be seen an intenser delight
suggested by the boy’s instinctive be than that of children picking up new
haviour to her.
Manifestly, too, the flowers and watching new insects; or
course she is adopting is the one best hoarding pebbles and shells ? And who
calculated to establish a habit of exhaus is there but perceives that by sympa
tive observation ; which is the professed thising with them they may be led on to
aim of these lessons. To tell a child any extent of inquiry into the qualities
this and to show it the other, is not and structures of these things? Every
to teach it how to observe, but to make botanist who has had children with him
it a mere recipient of another’s obser in the woods and lanes must have
vations : a proceeding which weakens noticed how eagerly they joined in his
rather than strengthens its powers of pursuits, how keenly they searched out
self-instruction—which deprives it of the plants for him, how intently they watched
pleasures resulting from successful activity while he examined them, how they over
—which presents this all-attractive know whelmed him with questions. The con-.
ledge under the aspect of formal tuition sistent follower of Bacon—the “servant
—and which thus generates that indif and interpreter of nature,” will see that
ference and even disgust not unfrequently we ought modestly to adopt the course
Having
felt towards these object-lessons. On of culture thus indicated.
the other hand, to pursue the course become familiar with the simpler pro
above described is simply tc guide the perties of inorganic objects, the child
should by the same process be led on to
intellect to its appropriate food; to join
�INTELLECTUAL EDUCA TION
an exhaustive examination of the things
it picks up in its daily walks—the less
complex facts they present being alone
noticed at first: in plants, the colours,
numbers, and forms of the petals, and
shapes of the stalks and leaves; in
Insects, the numbers of the wings, legs,
and antennae, and their colours. As
these become fully appreciated and
invariably observed, further facts may be
successively introduced : in the one case,
the numbers of stamens and pistils, the
forms of the flowers, whether radial or
bilateral in symmetry, the arrangement
and character of the leaves, whether
opposite or alternate, stalked or sessile,
smooth or hairy, serrated, toothed, or
crenate; in the other, the divisions of
the body, the segments of the abdomen,
the markings of the wings, the number
of joints in the legs, and the forms of
the smaller organs—the system pursued
throughout, being that of making it the
child’s ambition to say respecting every
thing it finds, all that can be said. Then
when a fit age has been reached, the
means of preserving these plants, which
have become so interesting in virtue of
the knowledge obtained of them, may
as a great favour be supplied; and
eventually, as a still greater favour, may
also be supplied the apparatus needful
for keeping the larvae of our common
butterflies and moths through their trans
formations—a practice which, as we
can personally testify, yields the highest
gratification; is continued with ardour
for years; when joined with the entomo
logical collection, adds immense interest
to Saturday-afternoon rambles; and
forms an admirable introduction to the
study of physiology.
We are quite prepared to hear from
many that all this is throwing away time
and energy ; and that children would be
much better occupied in writing their
59
copies or learning their pence-tables, and
so fitting themselves for the business of
life. We regret that such crude ideas of
what constitutes education, and such a
narrow conception of utility, should still
be prevalent. Saying nothing on the
need for a systematic culture of the per
ceptions and the value of the practices
above inculcated as subserving that need,
we are prepared to defend them even on
the score of the knowledge gained. If
men are to be mere cits, mere porers
over ledgers, with no ideas beyond their
trades—if it is well that they should be
as the cockney whose conception of rural
pleasures extends no further than sitting
in a tea-garden smoking pipes and
drinking porter; or as the squire who
thinks of woods as places for shooting
in, of uncultivated plants as nothing but
weeds, and who classifies animals into
game, vermin, and stock—then indeed
it is needless to learn any thing that does
not directly help to replenish the till and
fill the larder. But if there is a more
worthy aim for us than to be drudges—
if there are other uses in the things
around us than their power to bring
money—if there are higher faculties to
be exercised than acquisitive and sensual
ones—if the pleasures which poetry and
art and science and philosophy can bring
are of any moment; then is it desirable
that the instinctive inclination which
every child shows to observe natural
beauties and investigate natural phe
nomena, should be encouraged. But
this gross utilitarianism which is content
to come into the world and quit it again
without knowing what kind of a world it
is or what it contains, may be met on its
own ground. It will by and by be found
that a knowledge of the laws of life
is more important than any other know
ledge whatever—that the laws of life
underlie not only all bodily and mental
�6o
EDUCATION
processes, but by implication all the
transactions of the house and the street,
all commerce, all politics, all morals—
and that therefore without a comprehen
sion of them, neither personal nor social
conduct can be rightly regulated. It
will eventually be seen to, that the laws
of life are essentially the same through
out the whole organic creation; and
further, that they cannot be properly
understood in their complex manifesta
tions until they have been studied in
their simpler ones. And when this is
seen, it will be also seen that in aiding
the child to acquire the out-of-door
information for which it shows so great
an avidity, and in encouraging the
acquisition of such information through
out youth, we are simply inducing it to
store up the raw material of future
organisation—the facts that will one
day bring home to it with due force,
those great generalisations of science by
which actions may be rightly guided.
The spreading recognition of drawing
as an element of education, is one
among many signs of the more rational
views on mental culture now beginning
to prevail.
Once more it may be
remarked that teachers are at length
adopting the course which Nature has
perpetually been pressing on their
notice.
The spontaneous attempts
made by children to represent the men,
houses, trees, and animals around them
—on a slate if they can get nothing
better, or with lead-pencil on paper if
they can beg them—are familiar to all.
To be shown through a picture-book is
one of their highest gratifications; and
as usual, their strong imitative tendency
presently generates in them the ambition
to make pictures themselves also. This
effort to depict the striking things they
see, is a further instinctive exercise of
the perceptions—a means whereby still
greater accuracy and completeness of
observation are induced. And alike by
trying to interest us in their discoveries
of the sensible properties of things, and
by their endeavours to draw, they solicit
from us just that kind of culture which
they most need.
Had teachers been guided by Nature’s
hints, not only in making drawing a part
of education but in choosing modes of
teaching it, they would have done still
better than they have done. What is
that the child first tries to represent ?
Things that are large, things that are
attractive in colour, things round which
its pleasurable associations most cluster
—human beings from whom it has
received so many emotions; cows and
dogs which interest by the many phe
nomena they present; houses that are
hourly visible and strike by their size
and contrast of parts. And which of
the processes of representation gives it
most delight? Colouring. Paper and
pencil are good in default of something
better; but a box of paints and a brush
—these are the treasures. The drawing
of outlines immediately becomes sec
ondary to colouring—-is gone through
mainly with a view to the colouring;
and if leave can be got to colour a book
of prints, how great is the favour!
Now, ridiculous as such a position will
seem to drawing-masters, who postpone
colouring and who teach form by a dreary
discipline of copying lines, we believe
that the course of culture thus indicated
is the right one. The priority of colour
to form, which, as already pointed out,
has a psychological basis, should be
recognised from the beginning; and
from the beginning also, the things
imitated should be real. That greater
delight m colour which is not only
conspicuous in children but persists in
most persons throughout life, should be
�INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION
continuously employed as the natural
stimulus to the mastery of the com
paratively difficult and unattractive form :
the pleasure of the subsequent tinting,
should be the prospective reward for the
labour of delineation. And these efforts
to represent interesting actualities, should
be encouraged; in the conviction that
as, by a widening experience, simpler
and more practicable objects become
interesting, they too will be attempted;
and that so a gradual approximation
will be made towards imitations having
some resemblance to the realities. The
extreme indeiiniteness which, in con
formity with the law of evolution, these
first attempts exhibit, is anything but
a reason for ignoring them. No matter
how grotesque the shapes produced;
no matter how daubed and glaring the
colours. The question is not whether
the child is producing good drawings.
The question is, whether it is developing
its faculties. It has first to gain some
command over its fingers, some crude
notions of likeness; and this practice is
better than any other for these ends,
since it is the spontaneous and interest
ing one. During early childhood no
formal drawing-lessons are possible.
Shall we therefore repress, or neglect to
aid, these efforts of self-culture ? or shall
we encourage and guide them as normal
exercises of the perceptions and the
powers of manipulation ? If by furnish
ing cheap woodcuts to be painted, and
simple contour-maps to have their boun
dary lines tinted, we can not only plea
surably draw out the faculty of colour,
but can incidentally produce some fami
liarity with the outlines of things and
countries, and some ability to move the
brush steadily; and if by the supply of
tempting objects we can keep up the
instinctive practice of making repre
sentations, however rough; it must hap
6j
pen that when the age for lessons in
drawing is reached, there will exist a
facility that would else have been absent.
Time will have been gained ; and trouble
both to teacher and pupil, saved.
From what has been said, it may be
readily inferred that we condemn the
practice of drawing from copies; and
still more so that formal discipline in
making straight lines and curved lines
and compound lines, with which it is the
fashion of some teachers to begin. We
regret that the Society of Arts has re
cently, in its series of manuals on “ Ru
dimentary Art-Instruction,” given its
countenance to an elementary drawing
book, which is the most vicious in prin
ciple that we have seen. We refer to
the “ Outline from Outline, or from the
Flat,” by John Bell, sculptor. As ex
plained in the prefatory note, this pub
lication proposes “ to place before the
student a simple, yet logical mode of
instruction”; and to this end sets out
with a number of definitions thus :—
“ A simple line in drawing is a thin mark
drawn from one point to another.
“ Lines may be divided, as to their nature in
drawing, into two classes:
“ i. Straight, which are marks that go the
shortest road between two points, as A B.
“ 2. Or Curved, which are marks which do
not go the shortest road between two points, as
C D.”
And so the introduction progresses to
horizontal lines, perpendicular lines,
oblique lines, angles of the several kinds,
and the various figures which lines and
angles make up. The work is, in short,
a grammar of form, with exercises. And
thus the system of commencing with a
dry analysis of elements, which, in the
teaching of language, has been exploded,
is to be re-instituted in the teaching of
drawing. We are to set out with the
definite, instead of with the indefinite.
The abstract is to be preliminary to the
�62
EDUCATION
concrete. Scientific conceptions are to
precede empirical experiences. That
this is an inversion of the normal order,
we need scarcely repeat. It has been
well said concerning the custom of pre
facing the art of speaking any tongue by
a drilling in the parts of speech and their
functions, that it is about as reasonable
as prefacing the art of walking by a
course of lessons on the bones, muscles,
and nerves of the legs; and much the
same thing may be said of the proposal
to preface the art of representing objects,
by a nomenclature and definitions of the
lines which they yield on analysis. These
technicalities are alike repulsive and
needless. They render the study dis
tasteful at the very outset; and all with
the view of teaching that which, in the
course of practice, will be learnt uncon
sciously. Just as the child incidentally
gathers the meanings of ordinary words
from the conversations going on around
it, without the help of dictionaries; so,
from the remarks on objects, pictures,
and its own drawings, will it presently
acquire, not only without effort but even
pleasurably, those same scientific terms
which, when taught at first, are a mystery
and a weariness.
If any dependence is to be placed on
the general principles of education that
have been laid down, the process of
learning to draw should be throughout
continuous with those efforts of early
childhood, described above as so worthy
of encouragement. By the time that the
voluntary practice thus initiated has
given some steadiness of hand, and some
tolerable ideas of proportion, there will
have arisen a vague notion of body as
presenting its three dimensions in per
spective. And when, after sundry abor
tive, Chinese-like attempts to render this
appearance on paper, there has grown up
a pretty clear perception of the thing to
be done, and a desire to do it, a first
lesson in empirical perspective may be
given by means of the apparatus occa
sionally used in explaining perspective as
a science. This sounds alarming; but
the experiment is both comprehensible
and interesting to any boy or girl of
ordinary intelligence. A.plate of glass
so framed as to stand vertically on the
table, being placed before the pupil, and
a book or like simple object laid on the
other side of it, he is requested, while
keeping the eye in one position, to make
ink-dots on the glass, so that they may
coincide with, or hide, the comers of
this object. He is next told to join
these dots by lines; on doing which he
perceives that the lines he makes hide,
or coincide with, the outlines of the
object. And then by putting a sheet
of paper on the other side of the glass,
it is made manifest to him that the lines
he has thus drawn represent the object
as he saw it. They not only look like it,
but he perceives that they must be like
it, because he made them agree with its
outlines; and by removing the paper he
can convince himself that they do agree
with its outlines. The fact is new and
striking; and serves him as an experi
mental demonstration, that lines of
certain lengths, placed in certain direc
tions on a plane, can represent lines of
other lengths, and having other direc
tions, in space. By gradually changing
the position of the object, he may be
led to observe how some lines shorten
and disappear, while others come into
sight and lengthen. The convergence
of parallel lines, and, indeed, all the
leading facts of perspective, may, from
time to time, be similarly illustrated
to him. If he has been duly accustomed
to self-help, he will gladly, when it is
suggested, attempt to draw one of these
outlines on paper, by the eye only; and
�INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION
it may soon be made an exciting aim to
produce unas^sted, a representation as
like as he can to one subsequently
sketched on the glass. Thus without
the unintelligent, mechanical practice of
copying other drawings, but by a method
at once simple and attractive—rational,
yet not abstract,—a familiarity with the
linear appearances of things, and a faculty
of rendering them, may be step by step
acquired. To which advantages add
these :—that even thus early the pupil
learns, almost unconsciously, the true
theory of a picture (namely, that it is a
delineation of objects as they appear
when projected on a plane placed between
them and the eye); and that when he
reaches a fit age for commencing scientific
perspective, he is already thoroughly
acquainted with the facts which form its
logical basis.
As exhibiting a rational mode of con
veying primary conceptions in geometry,
we cannot do better than quote the
following passage from Mr. Wyse :—
A child has been in the habit of using cubes
for arithmetic; let him use them also for the
elements of geometry. I would begin with
solids, the reverse of the usual plan. It saves
all the difficulty of absurd definitions, and bad
explanations on points, lines, and surfaces,
which are nothing but abstractions....... A cube
presents many of the principal elements of
geometry; it at once exhibits points, straight
lines, parallel lines, angels, parallelograms, &c.,
&c. These cubes are divisible into various parts.
The pupil has already been familiarised with
such divisions in numeration, and he now pro
ceeds to a comparison of their several parts,
and of the relation of these parts to each other.
....... From thence he advances to globes, which
furnish him with elementary notions of the circle,
of curves generally, &c., &c.
Being tolerably familiar with solids, he may
now substitute planes. The transition may be
made very easy. Let the cube, for instance, be
cut into thin divisions, and placed on paper ; he
will then see as many plane rectangles as he has
divisions ; so with all the others. Globes may
be treated in the same manner ; he will thus see
6.3
how surfaces really are generated, and be enabled
to abstract them with facility in every solid.
He has thus acquired the alphabet and reading
of geometry. He now proceeds to write it.
The simplest operation, and therefore the firstj
is merely to place these planes on a piece of
paper, and pass the pencil round them. When
this has been frequently done, the plane may be
put at a little distance, and the child required to
copy it, and so on.
*
A stock of geometrical conceptions
having been obtained, in some such
manner as this recommended by Mr.
Wyse, a further step may be taken, by
introducing the practice of testing the
correctness of figures drawn by eye:
thus both exciting an ambition to make
them exact, and continually illustrating
the difficulty of fulfilling that ambition.
There can be little doubt that geometry
had its origin (as, indeed, the word
implies) in the methods discovered by
artizans and others, of making accurate
measurements for the foundations of
buildings, areas of enclosures, and the
like; and that its truths came to be
treacured up, merely with a view to their
immediate utility. They should be im
troduced to the pupil under analogous
relationships. In cutting out pieces for
his card-houses, in drawing ornamental
diagrams for colouring, and in those
various instructive occupations which an
inventive teacher will lead him into, he
may for a length of time be advantage
ously left, like the primitive builder, to
tentative processes; and so will learn
through experience the difficulty of
achieving his aims by the unaided senses.
When, having meanwhile undergone a
valuable discipline of the perceptions,
he has reached a fit age for using a pair
of compasses, he will, while duly appre
ciating these as enabling him to verify
his ocular guesses, be still hindered by
the imperfections of the approximative
method. In this stage he may be left
�64
EDUCATION
for a further period : partly as being yet of these triangles may be drawn with
too young for anything higher; partly perfect correctness and without guessing;
because it is desirable that he should be and after his failure he will value the
made to feel still more strongly the want information. Having thus helped him
of systematic contrivances. If the acqui to the solution of the first problem, with
sition of knowledge is to be made con the view of illustrating the nature of
tinuously interesting; and if, in the early geometrical methods, he is in future to
civilisation of the child, as in the early be left to solve the questions put to him
civilisation of the race, science is valued as best he can. To bisect a line, to
only as ministering to art; it is manifest erect a perpendicular, to describe a
that the proper preliminary to geometry,
square, to bisect an angle, to draw a line
is a long practice in those constructive parallel to a given line, to describe a
processes, which geometry will facilitate.
hexagon, are problems which a little
Observe that here, too, Nature points patience will enable him to find out.
the way. Children show a strong pro And from these he may be led on step
pensity to cut out things in paper, to
by step to more complex questions : all
make, to build—a propensity which, if of which, under judicious management,
encouraged and directed, will not only he will puzzle through unhelped. Doubt
prepare the way for scientific conceptions,
less, many of those brought up under
but will develop those powers of mani the old régime, will look upon this
pulation in which most people are so assertion sceptically. We speak from
deficient.
facts, however; and those neither few
When the observing and inventive nor special. We have seen a class of
faculties have attained the requisite boys become so interested in making
power, the pupil may be introduced to out solutions to such problems, as to
empirical geometry; that is—geometry look forward to their geometry-lesson as
dealing with methodical solutions, but a chief event of the week. Within the
not with the demonstrations of them. last month, we have heard of one girls’
Like all other transitions in education,
school, in which some of the young
this should be made not formally but ladies voluntarily occupy themselves with
incidentally; and the relationship to geometrical questions out of schoolconstructive art should still be main hours ; and of another, where they not
tained. To make, out of cardboard, a only do this, but where one of them is
tetrahedron like one given to him, is a begging for problems to find out during
problem which will interest the pupil,
the holidays : both which facts we state
and serve as a convenient starting-point.
on the authority of the teacher. Strong
In attempting this, he finds it needful to proofs, these, of the practicability and
draw four equilateral triangles arranged the immense advantage of self-develop
in special positions. Being unable in ment ! A branch of knowledge which,the absence of an exact method to do as commonly taught, is dry and even
this accurately, he discovers on putting repulsive, is thus, by following the
the triangles into their respective posi method of Nature, made extremely
tions, that he cannot make their sides interesting and profoundly beneficial.fit; and that their angles do not meet at We say profoundly beneficial, because
the apex. He may now be shown how,
the effects are riot confined to the gain
by describing a couple of circles, each ing of geometrical facts, but often
�INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION
65
revolutionise the whole state of mind. It
has repeatedly occurred that those who
have been stupefied by the ordinary
school-drill—by its abstract formulas, its
wearisome tasks, its cramming—have
suddenly had their intellects roused by
thus ceasing to make them passive
recipients, and inducing them to become
active discoverers. The discouragement
caused by bad teaching having been
diminished by a little sympathy, and
sufficient perseverance excited to achieve
a first success, there arises a revulsion of
feeling affecting the whole nature. They
no longer find themselves incompetent;
they, too, can do something. And
gradually as success follows success, the
incubus of despair disappears, and they
attack the difficulties of their other
studies with a courage insuring conquest.
A few weeks after the foregoing re
marks were originally published, Pro
fessor Tyndall, in a lecture at the Royal
Institution “ On the Importance of the
study of Physics as a Branch of Educa
tion,” gave some conclusive evidence to
the same effect. His testimony, based
on personal observation, is of such great
value that we cannot refrain from
quoting it. Here it is.
stated something to be impossible, never to use
that stupid word again. Thus cheered, he has
returned to his task with a smile, which perhaps
had something of doubt in it, but which, never
theless, evinced a resolution to try again. I
have seen the boy’s eye brighten, and at length,
with a pleasure of which the ecstasy of Archi
medes was but a simple expansion, heard him
exclaim, “ I have it, sir.” The consciousness
of self-power, thus awakened, was of immense
value; and animated by it the progress of the
class was truly astonishing. It was often my
custom to give the boys their choice of pursuing
their propositions in the book, or of trying their
strength at others not to be found there. Never
in a single instance have I known the book to
be chosen. I was ever ready to assist when I
deemed help needful, but my offers of assistance
were habitually declined. The boys had tasted
the sweets of intellectual conquest and demanded
victories of their own. I have seen their
diagrams scratched on the walls, cut into the
beams upon their play-ground, and numberless
other illustrations of the living interest they took
in the subject. For my own part, as far as
experience in teaching goes, I was a mere
fledgling: I knew nothing of the rules of
pedagogics, as the Germans name it; but I
adhered to the spirit indicated at the commence
ment of this discourse, and endeavoured to make
geometry a means and not a branch of education.
The experiment was successful, and some of the
most delightful hours of my existence have been
spent in marking the vigorous and cheerful
expansion of mental power, when appealed to in
the manner I have described.
One of the duties which fell to my share,
during the period to which I have referred, was
the instruction of a class in mathematics, and I
usually found that Euclid and the ancient
geometry generally, when addressed to the
understanding, formed a very attractive study
for youth. But it was my habitual practice to
withdraw the boys from the routine of the book,
and to appeal to their self-power in the treat
ment of questions not comprehended in that
routine. At first, the change from the beaten
track usually excited a little aversion : the youth
felt like a child amid strangers ; but in no single
instance have I found this aversion to continue.
When utterly disheartened, I have encouraged
the boy by that anecdote of Newton, where he
attributes the difference between him and other
men, mainly to his own patience ; or of Mira
beau, when he ordered his servant, who had |
This empirical geometry which pre
sents an endless series of problems,
should be continued along with other
studies for years; and may throughout
be advantageously accompanied by those
concrete applications of its principles
which serve as its preliminary. After
the cube, the octahedron, and the vari
ous forms of pyramid and prism have
been mastered, may come the more
complex regular bodies—the dodecahe
dron and icosahedron—to construct
which out of single pieces of cardboard,
requires considerable ingenuity. From
these, the transition may naturally be
made to such modified forms of the
c
�66
EDUCATION
regular bodies as are met with in
crystals—the truncated cube, the cube
with its dihedral as well as its solid
angles truncated, the octahedron and
the various prisms as similarly modified :
in imitating which numerous forms
assumed by different metals and salts, an
acquaintance with the leading facts of
mineralogy will be incidentally gained.
*
After long continuance in exercises of
this kind, rational geometry, as may be
supposed, presents no obstacles. Habit
uated to contemplate relationships of
form and quantity, and vaguely per
ceiving from time to time the necessity
of certain results as reached by certain
means, the pupil comes to regard the
demonstrations of Euclid as the missing
supplemeuts to his familiar problems.
His well-disciplined faculties enable him
easily to master its successive proposi
tions, and to appreciate their value; and
he has the occasional gratification of
finding some of his own methods proved
to be true. Thus he enjoys what is to
the unprepared a dreary task. It only
remains to add, that his mind will pre
sently arrive at a fit condition for that
most valuable of all exercises for the
reflective faculties—the making of origi
nal demonstrations. Such theorems as
those appended to the successive books
of the Messrs. Chambers’s Euclid, will
soon become practicable to him; and in
proving them, the process of self-develop
ment will be not intellectual only, but
moral.
To continue these suggestions much
further, would be to write a detailed
treatise on education, which we do not
purpose. The foregoing outlines of plans
for exercising the perceptions in early
* Those who seek aid in carrying out the
system of culture above described, will find in it
a little work entitled “Inventional Geometry”;
published by Messrs. Williams & Norgate.
childhood, for conducting object-lessons,
for teaching drawing and geometry, must
be considered simply as illustrations of
the method dictated by the general
principles previously specified. We
believe that on examination they will be
found not only to progress from the
simple to the complex, from the indefinite
to the definite, from the concrete to the
abstract, from the empirical to the
rational; but to satisfy the further
requirements, that education shall be a
repetition of civilisation in little, that it
shall be as much as possible a process
of self-evolution, and that it shall be as
pleasurable. The fulfilment of all these
conditions by one type of method, tends
alike to verify the conditions, and to
prove that type of method the right one.
Mark too, that this method is the logical
outcome of the tendency characterising
all modern improvements in tuition—•
that it is but an adoption in full of the
natural system which they adopt partially
—that it displays this complete adoption
of the natural system, both by conform
ing to the above principles, and by
following the suggestions which the
unfolding mind itself gives : facilitating
its spontaneous activities, and so aiding
the developments which Nature is busy
with. Thus there seems abundant reason
to conclude, that the mode of procedure
above exemplified, closely approximates
to the true one.
A few paragraphs must be added in
further inculcation of the two general
principles, that are alike the most impor
tant and the least attended to : namely,
the principle that throughout youth, as
in early childhood and in maturity, the
process shall be one of self-instruction;
and the obverse principle, that the mental
action induced shall be throughout in
trinsically grateful. If progression from
�INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION
simple to complex, from indefinite to
definite, and from concrete to abstract, be
considered the essential requirements as
dictated by abstract psychology ; then do
the requirements that knowledge shall be
self-mastered, and pleasurably mastered,
become tests by which we may judge
whether the dictates of abstract psycho
logy are being obeyed. If the first embody
the leading generalisations of the science
of mental growth, the last are the chief
canons of the art of fostering mental
growth. For manifestly, if the steps in
our curriculum are so arranged that they
can be successively ascended by the
pupil himself with little or no help, they
must correspond with the stages of
evolution in his faculties ; and manifestly,
if the successive achievements of these
steps are intrinsically gratifying to him,
it follows that they require no more than
a normal exercise of his powers.
But making education a process of
self-evolution, has other advantages than
this of keeping our lessons in the right
order. In the first place, it guarantees
a vividness and permanency of impression
which the usual methods can never pro
duce. Any piece of knowledge which
the pupil has himself acquired — any
problem which he has himself solved,
becomes, by virtue of the conquest, much
more thoroughly his than it could else
be. The preliminary activity of mind
which his success implies, the concentra
tion of thought necessary to it, and the
excitement consequent on his triumph,
conspire to register the facts in his
memory in a way that no mere informa
tion heard from a teacher, or read in a
school-book, can be registered. Even if
he fails, the tension to which his faculties
have been wound up, insures his remem
brance of the solution when given to
him, better than half-a-dozen repetitions
would. Observe, again, that this disci
67
pline necessitates a continuous organisa
tion of the knowledge he acquires. It
is in the very nature of facts and inferences
assimilated in this normal manner, that
they successively become the premises
of further conclusions—the means of
solving further questions. The solution
of yesterday’s problem helps the pupil in
mastering to-day’s. Thus the knowledge
is turned into faculty as soon as it is
taken in, and forthwith aids in the
general function of thinking—does not
lie merely written on the pages of an
internal library, as when rote-learnt.
Mark further, the moral culture which
this constant self-help involves. Courage
in attacking difficulties, patient concen
tration of the attention, perseverance
through failures—these are characteristics
which after-life specially requires; and
these are characteristics which this system
of making the mind work for ’ts food
specially produces. That it is thoroughly
practicable to carry out instruction after
this fashion, we can ourselves testify;
having been in youth thus led to solve
the comparatively complex problems of
perspective. And that leading teachers
have been tending in this direction, is
indicated alike in the saying of Fellenberg,
that “the individual, independent activity
of the pupil is of much greater importance
than the ordinary busy officiousness of
many who assume the office of educators”;
in the opinion of Horace Mann, that
“ unfortunately education amongst us at
present consists too much in telling, not
in training”; and in the remark of M.
Marcel, that “ what the learner discovers
by mental exertion is better known than
what is told to him.”
Similarly with the correlative require
ment, that the method of culture pursued
shall be one productive of an intrinsically
happy activity,—an activity not happy
because of intrinsic rewards to be obtained,
�68
EDUCATION
but because of its own healthfulness.
Conformity to this requirement, besides
preventing us from thwarting the normal
process of evolution, incidentally secures
positive benefits of importance. Unless
we are to return to an ascetic morality
(or rather /¡w-morality) the maintenance
of youthful happiness must be considered
as in itself a worthy aim. Not to dwell
upon this, however, we go on to remark
that a pleasurable state of feeling is far
more favourable to intellectual action
than a state of indifference or disgust.
Every one knows that things read, heard,
or seen with interest, are better remem
bered than things read, heard, or seen
with apathy. In the one case the facul
ties appealed to are actively occupied
with the subject presented; in the other
they are inactively occupied with it, and
the attention is continually drawn away
by more attractive thoughts. Hence the
impressions are respectively strong and
weak.
Moreover, to the intellectual
listlessness which a pupil’s lack of interest
in any study involves, must be added the
paralysing fear of consequences. This,
by distracting his attention, increases the
difficulty he finds in bringing his faculties
to bear upon facts that are repugnant to
them. Clearly, therefore, the efficiency
of tuition will, other things equal, be
proportionate to the gratification with
which tasks are performed.
It should be considered also, that grave
moral consequences depend upon the
habitual pleasure or pain which daily
lessons produce. No one.can compare
the faces and manners of two boys—theone made happy by mastering interesting
subjects, and the other made miserable
by disgust with his studies, by consequent
inability, by cold looks, by threats, by
punishment — without seeing that the
disposition of the one is being benefited,
and that of the other injured. Whoever
has marked the effects of success and
failure upon the mind, and the power of
the mind over the body; will see that in
the one case both temper and health are
favourably affected, while in the other
there is danger of permanent moroseness,
of permanent timidity, and even of per
manent constitutional depression. There
remains yet another indirect result of no
small moment. The relationship between
teachers and their pupils is, other things
equal, rendered friendly and influential,
or antagonistic and powerless, according
as the system of culture produces happi
ness or misery. Human beings are at
the mercy of their associated ideas. A
daily minister of pain cannot fail to be
regarded with secret dislike; and if he
causes no emotions but painful ones, will
inevitably be hated. Conversely, he who
constantly aids children to their ends,
hourly provides them with the satisfac
tions of conquest, hourly encourages
them through their difficulties and sympa
thises in their successes, will be liked;
nay, if his behaviour is consistent
throughout, must be loved. And when
we remember how efficient and benign
is the control of a master who is felt to
be a friend, when compared with the
control of one who is looked upon with
aversion, or at best indifference, we may
infer that the indirect advantages of
conducting education on the happiness
principle do not fall far short of the
direct ones. To all who question the
possibility of acting out the system here
advocated, we reply as before, that not
only does theory point to it, but experience
commends it. To the many verdicts of
distinguished teachers who since Pestalozzi’s time have testified this, may be
here added that of Professor Pillans,
who asserts that “ where young, people
are taught as they ought to be, they are
quite as happy in school as at play,
�MORAL EDUCATION
seldom less delighted, nay, often more,
with the well-directed exercise of their
mental energies, than with that of their
muscular powers.”
As suggesting a final reason for making
education a process of self-instruction,
and by consequence a process of pleasur
able instruction, we may advert to the
fact that, in proportion as it is made so,
is there a probability that it will not
cease when school-days end. As long
as the acquisition of knowledge is
rendered habitually repugnant, so long
will there be a prevailing tendency to
discontinue it when free from the coer
cion of parents and masters. And when
the acquisition of knowledge has been
rendered habitually gratifying, then there
will be as prevailing a tendency to con
tinue, without superintendence, that self
culture previously carried on under super
intendence. These results are inevitable.
While the laws of mental association
remain true—while men dislike the
things and places that suggest painful
recollections, and delight in those which
call to mind by-gone pleasures—painful
lessons will make knowledge repulsive,
and pleasurable lessons will make it
attractive. The men to whom in boyhood information came m dreary tasks
along with threats of punishment, and
who were never led into habits of inde
pendent inquiry, are unlikely to be
students in after years ; while those to
whom it came in the natural forms, at
the proper times, and who remember its
facts as not only interesting in them
selves, but as the occasions of a long
series of gratifying successes, are likely
to continue through life that self
instruction commenced in youth.
CHAPTER III.
MORAL EDUCATION
The greatest defect in our programmes
of education is entirely overlooked.
While much is being done in the
detailed improvement of our systems in
respect both of matter and manner, the
most pressing desideratum- has not yet
been even recognised as a desideratum.
To prepare the young for the duties of
life, is tacitly admitted to be the end
which parents and schoolmasters should
have in view; and happily, the value of
the things taught, and the goodness of
the methods followed in teaching them,
are now ostensibly judged by their fitness
to this end. The propriety of substi
tuting for an exclusively classical training,
a training in which the modern languages
shall have a share, is argued on this
ground. The necessity of increasing the
amount of science is urged for like
reasons. But though some care is taken
to fit youth of both sexes for society and
citizenship, no care whatever is taken to
fit them for the position of parents.
While it is seen that for the purpose of
gaining a livelihood, an elaborate pre
paration is needed, it appears to be
thought that for the bringing up of
children, no preparation whatever is
needed. While many years are spent
by a boy in gaining knowledge of which
the chief value is that it constitutes “ the
education of a gentleman”; and while
many years are spent by a girl in those
decorative acquirements which fit her for
evening parties ; not an hour is spent by
either in preparation for that gravest of
all responsibilities—the management of
a family. Is it that this responsibility
is but a remote contingency? On the
contrary, it is sure to devolve on nine
�7o
EDUCATION
out of ten. Is it that the discharge of
it is easy? Certainly not: of all functions
which the adult has to fulfil, this is the
most difficult. Is it that each may be
trusted by self-instruction to fit himself,
or herself, for the office of parent ? No :
not only is the need for such self-instruc
tion unrecognised, but the complexity of
the subject renders it the one of all
others in which self-instruction is least
likely to succeed. No rational plea can
be put forward for leaving the Art of
Education out of our curriculum.
Whether as bearing on the happiness
of parents themselves, or whether as
affecting the characters and lives of their
children and remote descendants, we
must admit that a knowledge of the right
methods of juvenile culture, physical,
intellectual, and moral, is a knowledge
of extreme importance.
This topic
should be the final one in the course
of instruction passed through by each
man and woman. As physical maturity
is marked by the ability to produce
offspring; so, mental maturity is marked
by the ability to train those offspring.
The subject which involves all other
subjects, and therefore the subject in which
education should culminate, is the Theory
and Practice of Education.
In the absence of this preparation, the
management of children, and more espe
cially the moral management, is lament
ably bad. Parents either never think
about the matter at all, or else their con
clusions are crude and inconsistent. In
most cases, and especially on the part of
mothers, the treatment adopted on every
occasion is that which the impulse of the
moment prompts : it springs not from
any reasoned-out conviction as to what
will most benefit the child, but merely
expresses the dominant parental feelings,
whether good or ill; and varies from
hour to hour as these feelings vary. Or
if the dictates of passion are supple
mented by any definite doctrines and
methods, they are those handed down
from the past, or those suggested by the
remembrances of childhood, or those
adopted from nurses and servants—
methods devised not by the enlighten
ment, but by the ignorance, of the time.
Commenting on the chaotic state oí
opinion and practice relative to selfgovernment, Richter writes:—
If the secret variances of a large class of
ordinary fathers were brought to light, and laid
down as a plan of studies and reading, cata
logued for a moral education, they would run
somewhat after this fashion :—In the first hour
“pure morality must be read to the child, either
by myself or the tutor ”; in the second “mixed
morality, or that which may be applied to one’s
own advantage
in the third, “ do you not see
that your father does so and so?”; in the fourth,
“you are little, and this is only fit for grown-up
people ”; in the fifth, “ the chief matter is that
you should succeed in the world, and become
something in the state”; in the sixth, “not the
temporary, but the eternal, determines the worth
of a man”; in the seventh, “therefore rather
suffer injustice, and be kind ”; in the eighth, “ but
defend yourself bravely if any one attack you ”;
in the ninth, “ do not make a noise, dear child ”;
in the tenth, “a boy must not sit so quiet”; in
the eleventh, “you must obey your parents
better”; in the twelfth, “and educate yourself.”
So by the hourly change of his principles, the
father conceals their untenableness and onesided
ness. As for his wife, she is neither like him,
nor yet like that harlequin who came on to the
stage with a bundle of papers under each arm,
and answered to the inquiry, what he had under
his right arm, “orders,” and to what he had
under his left arm, “ counter-orders.” But the
mother might be much better compared to a
giant Briareus, who had a hundred arms, and a
bundle of papers under each.
This state of things is not to be readily
changed. Generations must pass before
a great amelioration of it can be expected.
Like political institutions, educational
systems are not made, but grow; and
within brief periods growth is insensible.
Slow, however, as must be any improve
�MORAL EDUCATION
ment, even that improvement implies the
use of means ; and among the means is
discussion.
We are not among those who believe
in Lord Palmerston’s dogma, that “ all
children are born good.” On the whole,
the opposite dogma, untenable as it is,
seems to us less wide of the truth. Nor do
we agree with those who think that, by
skilful discipline, children may be made
altogether what they should be. Con
trariwise, we are satisfied that, though
imperfections of nature may be dimin
ished by wise management, they cannot
be removed by it. The notion that an
ideal humanity might be forthwith pro
duced by a perfect system of education,,
is near akin to that implied in the poems
of Shelley, that would mankind give up
their old institutions and prejudices, all
the evils in the world would at once
disappear : neither notion being accep
table to such as have dispassionately
studied human affairs.
Nevertheless, we may fitly sympathise
with those who entertain these too
sanguine hopes. Enthusiasm, pushed
even to fanaticism, is a useful motive
power—perhaps an indispensable one.
It is clear that the ardent politician
would never undergo the labours and
make the sacrifices he does, did he not
believe that the reform he fights for is
the one thing needful. But for his con
viction that drunkenness is the root of
■all social evils, the teetotaller would
•agitate far less energetically. In philan
thropy, as in other things, great advan
tage results from division of labour; and
that there may be division of labour,
each class of philanthropists must be
more or less subordinated to its function
—must have an exaggerated faith in its
work. Hence, of those who regard
■education, intellectual or moral, as the
7i
panacea, we may say that their undue
expectations are not without use ; and
that perhaps it is part of the beneficent
order of things that their confidence
cannot be shaken.
Even were it true, however, that by
some possible system of moral control,
children could be moulded into the
desired form, and even could every
parent be indoctrinated with this system;
we should still be far from achieving the
object in view. It is forgotten that the
carrying out of any such system pre
supposes, on the part of adults, a degree
of intelligence, of goodness, of self
control, possessed by no one. The
error made by those who discuss ques
tions of domestic discipline, lies in
ascribing all the faults and difficulties to
the children, and none to the parents.
The current assumption respecting
family government, as respecting na
tional government, is, that the virtues
are with the rulers and the vices with the
ruled. Judging by educational theories,
men and women are entirely transfigured
in their relations to offspring. The
citizens we do business with, the people
we meet in the world, we know to be
very imperfect creatures. In the daily
scandals, in the quarrels of friends, in
bankruptcy disclosures, in lawsuits, in
police reports, we have constantly thrust
before us the pervading selfishness, dis
honesty, brutality. Yet when we criti
cise nursery-management and canvass
the misbehaviour of juveniles, we habitu
ally take for granted that these culpable
persons are free from moral delinquency
in the treatment of their boys and girls !
So far is this from the truth, that we do
not hesitate to blame parental miscon
duct for a great part of the domestic
disorder commonly ascribed to the per
versity of children. We do not assert
this of the more sympathetic and self
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EDUCATION
restrained, among whom we hope most
of our readers may be classed; but we
assert it of the mass. What kind of
moral culture is to be expected from a
mother who, time after time, angrily
shakes her infant because it will not
suck ; which we once saw a mother do ?
How much sense of justice is likely to
be instilled by a father who, on having
his attention drawn by a scream to the
fact that his child’s finger is jammed
between the window-sash and the sill,
begins to beat the child instead of re
leasing it ? Yet that there are such
fathers is testified to us by an eye
witness. Or, to take a still stronger
case, also vouched for by direct testi
mony—what are the educational pros
pects of the boy who, on being taken
home with a dislocated thigh, is saluted
with a castigation ? It is true that these
are extreme instances—instances exhibit
ing in human beings that blind instinct
which impels brutes to destroy the
weakly and injured of their own race.
But extreme though they are, they
typify feelings and conduct daily observ
able in many families. Who has not
repeatedly seen a child slapped by nurse
or parent for a fretfulness probably re
sulting from bodily derangement ? Who,
when watching a mother snatch up a
fallen little one, has not often traced,
both in the rough manner and in the
sharply - uttered exclamation — “ You
stupid little thing 1”—an irascibility fore
telling endless future squabbles ? Is
there not in the harsh tones in which a
father bids his children be quiet, evi
dence of a deficient fellow-feeling with
them ? Are not the constant, and often
quite needless, thwartings that the young
experience—the injunctions to sit still,
which an active child cannot obey with
out suffering great nervous irritation, the
commands not to look out of the window
when travelling by railway, which on
a child of any intelligence entails serious
deprivation—are not these thwartings,
we ask, signs of a terrible lack of sym
pathy ? The truth is, that the difficulties
of moral education are necessarily of
dual origin—necessarily result from the
combined faults of parents and children.
If hereditary transmission is a law of
nature, as every naturalist knows it to
be, and as our daily remarks and current
proverbs admit it to be; then, on the
average of cases, the defects of children
mirror the defects of their parents ; —on
the average of cases, we say, because,
complicated as the results are by the
transmitted traits of remoter ancestors,
the correspondence is not special but
only general. And if, on the average of
cases, this inheritance of defects exists,
then the evil passions which parents
have to check in their children, imply
like evil passions in themselves : hidden,
it may be, from the public eye; or per
haps obscured by other feelings; but
still there.
Evidently, therefore, the
general practice of any ideal system of
discipline is hopeless: parents are not
good enough.
Moreover, even were there methods
by which the desired end could be at
once effected ; and even had fathers and
mothers sufficient insight, sympathy, and
self-command to employ these methods
consistently; it might still be contended
that it would be of no use to reform
family-government faster than other
things are reformed. What is it that
we aim to do ? Is it not that education
of whatever kind, has for its proximate
end to prepare a child for the business
of life—to produce a citizen who, while
he is well conducted, is also able to make
his way in the world ? And does not
making his way in the world (by which
we mean, not the acquirement of wealth,
�MORAL EDUCATION
but of the funds requisite for bringing
up a family)—does not this imply a
- certain fitness for the world as it now is ?
And if by any system of culture an ideal
human being could be produced, is it
not doubtful whether he would be fit for
the world as it now is? May we not,
on the contrary, suspect that his too
keen sense of rectitude, and too elevated
standard of conduct, would make life
intolerable or even impossible ? And how
ever admirable the result might be, con
sidered individually, would it not be selfdefeating in so far as society and posterity
are concerned ? There is much reason
for thinking that as in a nation so in a
family, the kind of government is, on
the whole, about as good as the general
state of human nature permits it to be.
We may argue that in the one case, as
in the other, the average character of the
people determines the quality of the
control exercised. In both cases it may
be inferred that amelioration of the
average character leads to an ameliora
tion of system ; and further, that were
it possible to ameliorate the system with
out the average character being first
ameliorated, evil rather than good would
follow. Such degree of harshness as
children now experience from their
parents and teachers, may be regarded
as but a preparation for that greater
harshness which they will meet with on
entering the world. And it may be
urged that were it possible for parents
and teachers to treat them with perfect
equity and entire sympathy, it would
but intensify the sufferings which the
selfishness of men must, in after life,
inflict on them.1
1 Of this nature is the plea put in by some for
the rough treatment experienced by boys at our
public schools; where, as it is said, they are
introduced to a miniature world whose hardships
prepare them for those of the real world. It
73
“But does not this prove too much?”
some one will ask. “ If no system of
moral training can forthwith make
children what they should be; if, even
were there a system that would do this,
existing parents are too imperfect to
carry it out; and if even could such a
system be successfully carried out, its
results would be disastrously incongruous
with the present state of society; does it
not follow that to reform the system now
in use, is neither practicable nor desir
able?” No. It merely follows that
reform in domestic government must go
on, pari passu, with other reforms. It
merely follows that methods of discipline
neither can be nor should be ameliorated,
except by instalments. It merely follows
that the dictates of abstract rectitude
will, in practice, inevitably be subordi
nated by the present state of human
nature—by the imperfections alike of
children, of parents, and of society; and
can only be better fulfilled as the general
character becomes better.
“At any rate, then,” may rejoin our
critic, “it is clearly useless to set up
any ideal standard of family discipline.
There can be no advantage in elabora
ting and recommending methods that
are in advance of the time.” Again we
must be admitted that the plea has some force ;
but it is a very insufficient plea. For whereas
domestic and school discipline, though they
should not be much better than the discipline of
adult life, should be somewhat better ; the disci
pline which boys meet with at Eton, Winchester,
Harrow, etc., is worse than that adult life—more
unjust and cruel. Instead of being an aid to
human progress which all culture should be,
the culture of our public schools, by accustoming
boys to a despotic form of government and an
intercourse regulated by brute force, tends to fit
them for a lower state of society than that which
exists. And chiefly recruited as our legislature
is from among those who are brought up at such
schools, this barbarising influence becomes a
hindrance to national progress.
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EDUCATION
contend for the contrary. Just as
in the case of political government,
though pure rectitude may be at
present impracticable, it is requisite
to know where the right lies, in
order that the changes we make may be
iowards the right instead of away from
it; so, in the case of domestic govern
ment, an ideal must be upheld, that
there may be gradual approximations to
it. We need fear no evil consequences
from the maintenance of such an ideal.
On the average the constitutional con
servatism of mankind is strong enough
to prevent too rapid a change. Things
are so organised that until men have
grown up to the level of a higher belief,
they cannot receive it: nominally, they
may hold it, but not virtually. And
even when the truth gets recognised, the
obstacles to conformity with it are so
persistent as to outlive the patience of
philanthropists and even of philosophers.
We may be sure, therefore, that the
difficulties in the way of a normal
government of children, will always put
an adequate check upon the efforts to
realise it.
With these preliminary explanations,
let us go on to consider the true aims
and methods of moral education. After
a few pages devoted to the settlement of
general principles, during the perusal of
which we bespeak the reader’s patience,
we shall aim by illustrations to make
clear the right methods of parental
behaviour in the hourly occurring
difficulties of family government.
When a child falls, or runs its head
against the table, it suffers a pain, the
remembrance of which tends to make it
more careful; and by repetition of such
experiences, it is eventually disciplined
into proper guidance of its movements.
If it lays hold of the fire-bars, thrusts its
hand into a candle-flame, or spills boiling
water on any part of its skin, the result
ing burn or scald is a lesson not easily
forgotten. So deep an impression is
produced by one or two events of this
kind, that no persuasion will afterwards
induce it thus to disregard the laws of
its constitution.
Now in these cases, Nature illustrates
to us in the simplest way, the true theory
and practice of moral discipline—a
theory and practice which, however
much they may seem to the superficial
like those commonly received, we shall
find on examination to differ from them
very widely.
Observe, first, that in bodily injuries
and their penalties we have misconduct
and its consequences reduced to their
simplest forms. Though, according to
their popular acceptations, right and
wrong are words scarcely applicable to
actions that have none but direct bodily
effects j yet whoever considers the matter
will see that such actions must be as
much classifiable under these heads as
any other actions. From whatever
assumption they start, all theories of
morality agree that conduct whose total
results, immediate and remote, are
beneficial, is good conduct; while
conduct whose total results, immediate
and remote, are injurious, is bad
conduct. The ultimate standards by
which all men judge of behaviour,
are the resulting happiness or misery.
We consider drunkenness wrong because
of the physical degeneracy and accom
panying moral evils entailed on the
drunkard and his dependents.
Did
theft give pleasure both to taker and
loser, we should not find it in our cata
logue of sins. Were it conceivable that
kind actions multiplied human sufferings,
we should condemn them—should not
consider them kind. It needs but to
�MokAl education
read the first newspaper-leader, or listen
to any conversation on social affairs, to
see that acts of parliament, political
movements, philanthropic agitations, in
common with the doings of individuals
are judged by their anticipated results in
augmenting the pleasures or pains of
men. And if on analysing all secondary,
superinduced ideas, we find these to be
our final tests of right and wrong, we
cannot refuse to class bodily conduct as
right or wrong according to the bene
ficial or detrimental results produced.
Note, in the second place, the char
acter of the punishments by which these
physical transgressions are prevented.
Punishments, we call them, in the
absence of a better word: for they are
not punishments in the literal sense.
They are not artificial and unnecessary
inflictions of pain; but are simply the
beneficent checks to actions that are
essentially at variance with bodily wel
fare—checks in the absence of which
life would be quickly destroyed by bodily
injuries. It is the peculiarity of these
penalties, if we must so call them, that
they are simply the unavoidable conse
quences of the deeds which they follow :
they are nothing more than the inevitable
reactions entailed by the child’s actions.
Let it be further borne in mind that
these painful reactions are proportionate
to the transgressions. A slight accident
brings a slight pain ; a more serious one,
a severer pain. It is not ordained that
the urchin who tumbles over the door
step, shall suffer in excess of the amount
necessary; with the view of making it
still more cautious than the necessary
suffering will make it. But from its daily
experience it is left to learn the greater
or less errors; and to behave accord
ingly.
And then mark, lastly, that these
natural reactions which follow the child’s
wrong actions, are constant, direct,
unhesitating, and not to be escaped.
No threats; but a silent, rigorous per
formance. If a child runs a pin into
its finger, pain follows. If it does it
again, there is again the same result:
and so on perpetually. In all its dealings
with inorganic Nature it finds this un
swerving persistence, which listens to no
excuse, and from which there is no
appeal; and very soon recognising this
stern though beneficent discipline, it
becomes extremely careful not to trans
gress.
Still more significant will these general
truths appear, when we remember that
they hold throughout adult life as well
as throughout infantine life. It is by an
experimentally-gained knowledge of the
natural consequences, that men and
women are checked when they go wrong.
After home education has ceased, and
when there are no longer parents and
teachers to forbid this or that kind of
conduct, there comes into play a disci
pline like that by which the young child
is trained to self-guidance. If the youth ~
entering on the business of life idles
away his time and fulfils slowly or unskil
fully the duties entrusted to him, there
by-and-by follows the natural penalty :
he is discharged, and left to suffer for
awhile the evils of a relative poverty,
On the unpunctual man, ever missing his
appointments of business and pleasure,
there continually fall the consequent
inconveniences, losses, and deprivations.
The tradesman who charges too high a
rate of profit, loses his customers, and so
is checked in his greediness. Diminish
ing practice teaches the inattentive
doctor to bestow more trouble on his
patients. The too credulous creditor
and the over-sanguine speculator, alike
learn by the difficulties which rashness
entails on them, the necessity of being
�76
EDUCATION
more cautious in their engagements.
And so throughout the life of every
citizen. In the quotation so often made
apropos of such cases—“The burnt child
dreads the fire ”—we see not only that
the analogy between this social discipline
and Nature’s early discipline of infants
is universally recognised; but we also
see an implied conviction that this disci
pline is of the most efficient kind. Nay
indeed, this conviction is more than
implied ; it is distinctly stated. Every
one has heard others confess that only
by “ dearly bought experience ” had they
been induced to give up some bad or
foolish course of conduct formerly
pursued. Every one has heard, in the
criticisms passed on the doings of this
spendthrift or the other schemer, the
remark that advice was useless, and that
nothing but “bitter experience ” would
produce any effect : nothing, that is, but
suffering the unavoidable consequences.
And if further proof be needed that the
natural reaction is not only the most
efficient penalty, but that no humanlydevised penalty can replace it, we have
such further proof in the notorious illsuccess of our various penal systems.
Out of the many methods of criminal
discipline that have been proposed and
legally enforced, none have answered the
expectations of their advocates. Artificial
punishments have failed to produce
reformation ; and have in many cases
increased the criminality. The only suc
cessful reformatories are those privatelyestablished ones which approximate their
régime to the method of Nature—which
do little more than administer the natural
consequences of criminal conduct :
diminishing the criminal’s liberty of
action as much as is needful for the
safety of society, and requiring him to
maintain himself while living under this
restraint. Thus we see, both that the
discipline by which the young child is
taught to regulate its movements is the
discipline by which the great mass of
adults are kept in order, and more or
less improved; and that the discipline
humanly-devised for the worst adults,
fails when it diverges from this divinelyordained discipline, and begins to succeed
on approximating to it.
Have we not here, then, the guiding
principle of moral education ? Must we
not infer that the system so beneficent
in its effects during infancy and maturity,
will be equally beneficent throughout
youth? Can any one believe that the
method which answers so well in the
first and the last divisions of life, will
not answer in the intermediate division ?
Is it not manifest that as “ ministers and
interpreters of Nature ” it is the function
of parents to see that their children
habitually experience the true conse
quences of their conduct—the natural
reactions; neither warding them off, nor
intensifying them, nor putting artificial
consequences in place of them? No
unprejudiced reader will hesitate in his
assent.
Probably, however, not a few will con
tend that already most parents do this—
that the punishments they inflict are, in
the majority of cases, the true conse
quences of ill-conduct—that parental
anger, venting itself in harsh words and
deeds, is the result of a child’s transgres
sion—and that, in the suffering, physical
or moral, which the child is subject to,
it experiences the natural reaction of its
misbehaviour. Along with much error
this assertion contains some truth. It is
unquestionable that the displeasure of
fathers and mothers is a true conse
quence of juvenile delinquency; and that
the manifestation of it is a normal check
upon such delinquency. The scoldings,
�MORAL EDUCATION
and threats, and blows, which a passionate
parent visits on offending little ones, are
doubtless effects actually drawn from
such a parent by their offences ; and so
are, in some sort, to be considered as
among the natural reactions of their
wrong actions. Nor are we prepared to
say that these modes of treatment are
not relatively right—right, that is, in
relation to the uncontrollable children of
ill-controlled adults; and right in relation
to a state of society in which such illcontrolled adults make up the mass of
the, people.
As already suggested,
educational systems, like political and
other institutions, are generally as good
as the state of human nature permits.
The barbarous children of barbarous
parents are probably only to be re
strained by the barbarous methods which
such parents spontaneously employ;
while submission to these barbarous
methods is perhaps the best preparation
such children can have for the barbarous
society in which they are presently to
play a part. Conversely, the civilised
members of a civilised society will spon
taneously manifest their displeasure in
less violent ways—will spontaneously
use milder measures: measures strong
enough for their better-natured children.
Thus it is true that, in so far as the
expression of parental feeling is con
cerned, the principle of the natural
reaction is always more or less followed.
The system of domestic government
gravitates towards its right form.
But now observe two important facts.
The first fact is that, in states of rapid
transition like ours, which witness a
continuous battle between old and new
theories and old and new practices, the
educational methods in use are apt to
be considerably out of harmony with the
times. In deference to dogmas fit only
for the ages that uttered them, many
77
parents inflict punishments that do
violence to their own feelings, and so
visit on their children unnatural reactions;
while other parents, enthusiastic in their
hopes of immediate perfection, rush to
the opposite extreme. The second fact
is, that the discipline of chief value is
not the experience of parental approba
tion or disapprobation; but it is the
experience of those results which would
ultimately flow from the conduct in the
absence of parental opinion or interfer
ence. The truly instructive and salutary
consequences are not those inflicted by
parents when they take upon themselves
to be Nature’s proxies; but they are
those inflicted by Nature herself. We
will endeavour to make this distinction
clear by a few illustrations, which, while
they show what we mean by natural
reactions as contrasted with artificial
ones, will afford some practical sugges
tions.
In every family where there are young
children there daily occur cases of what
mothers and servants call “making a
litter.” A child has had out its box of
toys, and leaves them scattered about the
floor. Or a handful of flowers, brought
in from a morning walk, is presently
seen dispersed over tables and chairs.
Or, a little girl, making doll’s clothes,
disfigures the room with shreds. In
most cases the trouble of rectifying this
disorder falls anywhere but where it
should. Occurring in the nursery, the
nurse herself, with many grumblings
about “ tiresome little things,” under
takes the task; if below-stairs, the task
usually devolves either on one of the
elder children or on the housemaid : the
transgressor being visited with nothing
more than a scolding. In this very
simple case, however, there are many
parents wise enough to follow out, more
or less consistently, the normal course—
�78
EDUCATION
that of making the child itself collect the
toys or shreds. The labour of putting
things in order, is the true consequence
of having put them in disorder. Every
trader in his office, every wife in her
household, has daily experience of this
fact. And if education be a preparation
for the business of life, then every
child should also, from the begin
ning, have daily experience of this
fact. If the natural penalty be met by
refractory behaviour (which it may per
haps be where the system of moral disci
pline previously pursued has been bad),
then the proper course is to let the child
feel the ulterior reaction caused by its
disobedience. Having refused or neg
lected to pick up and put away the
things it has scattered about, and having
thereby entailed the trouble of doing
this on some one else, the child should,
on subsequent occasions, be denied the
means of giving this trouble. When
next it petitions for its toy-box, the
reply of its mamma should be—“ The
last time you had your toys you left
them lying on the floor, and Jane had to
pick them up. Jane is too busy to pick
up every day the things you leave about;
and I cannot do it myself. So that, as
you will not put away your toys when
you have done with them, I cannot let
you have them.” This is obviously a
natural consequence, neither increased
nor lessened ; and must be so recognised
by a child. The penalty comes, too, at
the moment when it is most keenly felt.
A new-born desire is balked at the
moment of anticipated gratification ; and
the strong impression so produced can
scarcely fail to have an effect on the
future conduct: an effect which, by
consistent repetition, will do whatever
can be done in curing the fault. Add
to which, that, by this method, a child
is early taught the lesson which cannot
be learnt too soon, that in this world of
ours pleasures are rightly to be obtained
only by labour.
Take another case. Not long since
we had frequently to hear the repri
mands visited on a little girl who was
scarcely ever ready in time for the daily
walk. Of eager disposition, and apt to
become absorbed in the occupation of
the moment, Constance never thought
of putting on her things till the rest were
ready. The governess and the other
children had almost invariably to wait;
and from the mamma there almost
invariably came the same scolding.
Utterly as this system failed, it never
occurred to the mamma to let Constance
experience the natural penalty. Nor,
indeed, would she try it when it was
suggested to her. In the world, un
readiness entails the loss of some
advantage that would else have been
gained : the train is gone ; or the steam
boat is just leaving its moorings ; or the
best things in the market are sold; or all
the good seats in the concert-room are
filled. And every one, in cases per
petually occurring, may see that it is the
prospective deprivations which prevent
people from being too late. Is not the
inference obvious ? Should not the pro
spective deprivations control a child’s
conduct also ? If Constance is not
ready at the appointed time, the natural
result is that of being left behind, and
losing her walk. And after having once
or twice remained at home while the rest
were enjoying themselves in the fields—
after having felt that this loss of a muchprized gratification was solely due to
want of promptitude; amendment would
in all probability take place. At any
rate, the measure would be more effective
than that perpetual scolding which ends
only in producing callousness.
Again, when children, with more than
�MORAL EDUCATION
usual carelessness, break or lose the
things given to them, the natural penalty
—the penalty which makes grown-up
persons more careful—is the consequent
inconvenience. The lack of the lost or
damaged article, and the cost of re
placing it, are the experiences by which
men and women are disciplined in these
matters; and the experiences of children
should be as much as possible assimilated
to theirs. We do not refer to that early
period at which toys are pulled to pieces
in the process of learning their physical
properties, and at which the results of
carelessness cannot be understood; but
to a later period, when the meaning and
advantages of property are perceived.
When a boy, old enough to possess a
penknife, uses it so roughly as to snap
the blade, or leaves it in the grass by
some hedge-side where he was cutting a
stick, a thoughtless parent, or some in
dulgent relative, will commonly forthwith
buy him another ; not seeing that, by
doing this, a valuable lesson is prevented.
In such a case, a father may properly
explain that penknives cost money, and
that to get money requires labour; that
ne cannot afford to purchase new pen
knives for one who loses or breaks them ;
and that until he sees evidence of greater
carefulness he must decline to make
good the loss. A parallel discipline will
serve to check extravagance.
These few familiar instances, here
chosen because of the simplicity with
which they illustrate our point, will
make clear to every one the distinction
between those natural penalties which
we contend are the truly efficient ones,
and those artificial penalties commonly
substituted for them. Before going on
to exhibit the higher and subtler applica
tions of the principle exemplified, let us
note its many and great superiorities over
the principle, or rather the empirical
79
practice, which prevails in most families.
One superiority is that the pursuance
of it generates right conceptions of cause
and effect; which by frequent and con
sistent experience are eventually rendered
definite and complete. Proper conduct
in life is much better guaranteed when
the good and evil consequences of actions
are understood, than when they are
merely believed on authority. A child
who finds that disordliness entails the
trouble of putting things in order, or
who misses a gratification from dilatori
ness, or whose carelessness is followed
by the want of some much-prized posses
sion, not only suffers a keenly-felt con
sequence, but gains a knowledge of
causation: both the one and the other
being just like those which adult life will
bring. Whereas a child who in such
cases receives a reprimand, or some
factitious penalty, not only experiences
a consequence for which it often cares
very little, but misses that instruction
respecting the essential natures of good
and evil conduct, which it would else
have gathered. It is a vice of the
common system of artificial rewards and
punishments, long since noticed by the
clear-sighted, that by substituting for the
natural results of misbehaviour certain
tasks or castigations, it produces a
radically wrong moral standard. Having
throughout infancy and boyhood always
regarded parental or tutorial displeasure
as the chief result of a forbidden action,
the youth has gained an established
association of ideas between such action
and such displeasure, as cause and effect.
Hence when parents and tutors have
abdicated, and their displeasure is not
to be feared, the restraints on forbidden
actions are in great measure removed:
the true restraints, the natural reactions,
having yet to be learnt by sad experience.
As writes one who has had personal
�8o
EDUCATION
knowledge of this short-sighted system :—
“Young men let loose from school, par
ticularly those whose parents have
neglected to exert their influence, plunge
into every description of extravagance;
they know no rule of action—they are
ignorant of the reasons for moral conduct
—they have no foundation to rest upon
—and until they have been severely
disciplined by the world are extremely
dangerous members of society.”
Another great advantage of this natural
discipline is, that it is a discipline of
pure justice; and will be recognised as
such by every child. Whoso suffers
nothing more than the evil which in
the order of nature results from his
own misbehaviour, is much less likely to
think himself wrongly treated than if he
suffers an artificially inflicted evil; and
this will hold of children as of men.
Take the case of a boy who is habitually
reckless of his clothes—scrambles
through hedges without caution, or is
utterly regardless of mud. If he is
beaten, or sent to bed, he is apt to con
sider himself ill-used; and is more likely
to brood over his injuries than to repent
of his transgressions. But suppose he
is required to rectify as far as possible
the harm he has done—to clean off the
mud with which he has covered himself,
or to mend the tear as well as he can.
Will he not feel that the evil is one of
his own producing ? Will he not while
paying this penalty be continuously
conscious of the connection between
it and its cause ? And will he not,
spite of his irritation, recognise
more or less clearly the justice of the
arrangement ? If several lessons of this
kind fail to produce amendment—if suits
ff clothes are prematurely spoiled—if
the father, pursuing this same system of
discipline, declines to spend money for
new ones until the ordinary time has
elapsed—and if meanwhile, there occur
occasions on which, having no decent
clothes to go in, the boy is debarred
from joining the rest of the family on
holiday excursions and fete days, it is
manifest that while he will keenly feel
the punishment, he can scarcely fail to
trace the chain of causation, and to
perceive that his own carelessness is the
origin of it. And seeing this he will not
have any such sense of injustice as if
there were no obvious connection
between the transgression and its
penalty.
Again, the tempers both of parents
and children are much less liable to be
ruffled under this system than under the
ordinary system. When, instead of
letting children experience the painful
results which naturally follow from wrong
conduct, parents themselves inflict cer
tain other painful results, they produce
double mischief. Making, as they do,
multiplied family laws; and identifying
their own supremacy and dignity with the
maintenance of these laws; every trans
gression is regarded as an offence against
themselves, and a cause of anger on their
part. And then come the further vexa
tions which result from taking upon
themselves, in the shape of extra labour
or cost, those evil consequences which
should have been allowed to fall on the
wrong-doers. Similarly with the children.
Penalties which the necessary reaction
of things brings round upon them—
penalties which are inflicted by imper
sonal agency, produce an irritation that
is comparatively slight and transient;
whereas penalties voluntarily inflicted by
a parent, and afterwards thought of as
caused by him or her, produce an irrita
tion both greater and more continued.
Just consider how disastrous would be
the result if this empirical method wrere
pursued from the beginning. Suppose
�MORAL EDUCATION
it were possible for parents to take upon
themselves the physical sufferings en
tailed on their children by ignorance and
awkwardness; and that while bearing
these evil consequences they visited on
their children certain other evil conse
quences, with the view of teaching them
the impropriety of their conduct. Sup
pose that when a child, who had been
forbidden to meddle with the kettle,
spilt boiling water on its foot, the mother
vicariously assumed the scald and gave
a blow in place of it; and similarly in
all other cases. Would not the daily
mishaps be sources of far more anger
than now ? Would there not be chronic
ill-temper on both sides ? Yet an
exactly parallel policy is pursued in after
years. A father who beats his boy for
carelessly or wilfully breaking a sister’s
toy, and then himself pays for a new
toy, does substantially the same thing—
inflicts an artificial penalty on the trans
gressor, and takes the natural penalty on
himself: his own feelings and those of
the transgressor being alike needlessly
irritated. Did he simply require restitu
tion to be made, he would produce far
less heart-burning. If he told the boy
that a new toy must be bought at his,
the boy’s cost; and that his supply of
pocket-money must be withheld to the
needful extent; there would be much
less disturbance of temper on either side :
while in the deprivation afterwards felt,
the boy would experience the equitable
and salutary consequence. In brief, the
system of discipline by natural reactions
is less injurious to temper, both because
it is perceived to be nothing more than
pure justice, and because it in great
part substitutes the impersonal agency of
Nature for the personal agency of
parents.
Whence also follows the manifest corol
lary, that under this system the parental
81
and filial relation, being a more friendly,
will be a more influential one. Whether
in parent or child, anger, however
caused, and to whomsoever directed, is
detrimental. But anger in a parent
towards a child, and in a child towards
a parent, is especially detrimental;
because it weakens that bond of sym
pathy which is essential to beneficent
control. From the law of association of
ideas, it inevitably results, both in young
and old, that dislike is contracted
towards things which in experience are
habitually connected with disagreeable
feelings. Or where attachment originally
existed, it is diminished, or turned into
repugnance, according to the quantity of
painful impressions received. Parental
wrath, venting itself in reprimands and
castigations, cannot fail, if often repeated,
to produce filial alienation; while the
resentment and sulkiness of children
cannot fail to weaken the affection felt
for them, and may even end in destroy
ing it. Hence the numerous cases in
which parents (and especially fathers,
who are commonly deputed to inflict the
punishment) are regarded with indiffer
ence, if not with aversion; and hence
the equally numerous cases in which
children are looked upon as inflictions.
Seeing then, as all must do, that
estrangement of this kind is fatal to a
salutary moral culture, it follows that
parents cannot be too solicitous in
avoiding occasions of direct antagonism
with their children. And therefore they
cannot too anxiously avail themselves of
this discipline of natural consequences;
which, by relieving them from penal
functions, prevents mutual exasperations
and estrangements.
The method of moral culture by
experience of the normal reactions,
which is the divinely-ordained method
alike for infancy and for adult life, we thus
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EDUCATION
find to be equally applicable during the
intermediate childhood and youth.
Among the advantages of this method
we see:—First; that it gives that
rational knowledge of right and wrong
conduct which results from personal
experience of their good and bad con
sequences.
Second; that the child,
suffering nothing more than the painful
effects of its own wrong actions, must
recognise more or less clearly the justice
of the penalties. Third; that recognising
the justice of the penalties, and receiving
them through the working of things
rather than at the hands of an individual,
its temper is less disturbed; while the
parent, fulfilling the comparatively passive
duty of letting the natural penalties be
felt, preserves a comparative equanimity.
Fourth ; that mutual exasperations being
thus prevented, a much happier, and a
more influential relation, will exist
between parent and child.
“ But what is to be done in cases of
more serious misconduct ?” some will
ask. “ How is this plan to be carried
out when a petty theft has been com
mitted ? or when a lie has been told ?
or when some younger brother or sister
has been ill-used ?”
Before replying to these questions, let
us consider the bearings of a few illus
trative facts.
Living in the family of his brother-inlaw, a friend of ours had undertaken the
education of his little nephew and niece.
This he had conducted, more perhaps
from natural sympathy than from
reasoned-out conclusions, in the spirit
of the method above set forth. The
two children were in-doors his pupils
and out-of-doors his companions. They
daily joined him in walks and botanising
excursions, eagerly sought plants for
him, looked on while he examined and
identified them, and in this and other
ways were ever gaining pleasure and
instruction in his society. In short,
morally considered, he stood to them
much more in the position of parent
than either their father or mother did.
Describing to us the results of this policy,
he gave, among other instances, the
following. One evening, having need
for some article lying in another part of
the house, he asked his nephew to fetch
it. Interested as the boy was in some
amusement of the moment, he, contrary
to his wont, either exhibited great reluc
tance or refused, we forget which. His
uncle, disapproving of a coercive course,
went himself for that which he wanted :
merely exhibiting by his manner the
annoyance this ill-behaviour gave him.
And when, later in the evening, the boy
made overtures for the usual play, they
were gravely repelled—the uncle mani
fested just that coldness naturally pro
duced in him; and so let the boy feel
the necessary consequences of his con
duct. Next morning at the usual time
for rising, our friend heard a new voice
at the door, and in walked his little
nephew with the hot water. Peering
about the room to see what else could
be done, the boy then exclaimed, “ Oh !
you want your boots
and forthwith
rushed down-stairs to fetch them. In
this and other ways he showed a true
penitence for his misconduct. He
endeavoured by unusual services to make
up for the service he had refused. His
better feelings had made a real conquest
over his lower ones; and acquired
strength by the victory. And having
felt what it was to be without it, he
valued more than before the friendship
he thus regained.
This gentleman is now himself a father;
acts on the same system; and finds it
answer completely. He makes himself
�MORAL EDUCATION
thoroughly his children’s friend. The
evening is longed for by them because
he will be at home; and they especially
enjoy Sunday because he is with them
all day. Thus possessing their perfect
confidence and affection, he finds that
the simple display of his approbation or
disapprobation gives him abundant power
of control. If, on his return home, he
hears that one of his boys has been
naughty, he behaves towards him with
that coolness which the consciousness of
the boy’s misconduct naturally produces ;
and he finds this a most efficient punish
ment. The mere withholding of the
usual caresses, is a source of much
distress—produces a more prolonged fit
of crying than a beating would do. And
the dread of this purely moral penalty is,
he says, ever present during his absence :
so much so, that frequently during the
day his children ask their mamma how
they have behaved, and whether the
report will be good. Recently the
eldest, an active urchin of five, in one of
those bursts of animal spirits common
in healthy children, committed sundry
extravagances during his mamma’s
absence—cut off part of his brother’s
hair and wounded himself with a razor
taken from his father’s dressing-case.
Hearing of these occurrences on his
return, the father did not speak to the
boy either that night or next morning.
Besides the immediate tribulation the
effect was, that when, a few days after,
the mamma was about to go out, she
was entreated by the boy not to do so;
and on inquiry, it appeared his fear was
that he might again transgress in her
absence.
We have introduced these facts before
replying to the question—“ What is to
be done with the graver offences ?” for
the purpose of first exhibiting the rela
tion that may and ought to be estab
83
lished between parents and children;
for on the existence of this relation
depends the successful treatment of these
graver offences. And as a further pre
liminary, we must now point out that the
establishment of this relation will result
from adopting the system here advocated.
Already we have shown that by simply
letting a child experience the painful
reactions of its own wrong actions, a
parent avoids antagonism and escapes
being regarded as an enemy; but it
remains to be shown that where this
course has been consistently pursued
from the beginning, a feeling of active
friendship will be generated.
At present, mothers and fathers are
mostly considered by their offspring as
friend-enemies. Determined as the im
pressions of children inevitably are by
the treatment they receive; and oscil
lating as that treatment does between
bribery and thwarting, between petting
and scolding, between gentleness and
castigation ; they necessarily acquire con
flicting beliefs respecting the parental
character. A mother commonly thinks
it sufficient to tell her little boy that she
is his best friend; and assuming that he
ought to believe her, concludes that he
will do so. “ It is all for your good ”;
“ I know what is proper for you better
than you do yourself”; “You are not old
enough to understand it now, but when
you grow up you will thank me for
doing what I do”;—these, and like
assertions, are daily reiterated. Mean
while the boy is daily suffering positive
penalties; and is hourly forbidden to
do this, that, and the other, which he
wishes to do. By words he hears that
his happiness is the end in view; but
from the accompanying deeds he habitu
ally receives more or less pain. Incom
petent as he is to understand that future
which his mother has in view, or how
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EDUCATION
this treatment conduces to the happiness
of that future, he judges by the results he
feels; and finding such results anything
but pleasurable, he becomes sceptical
respecting her professions of friendship.
And is it not folly to expect any other
issue ? Must not the child reason from
the evidence he has got ? and does not
this evidence seem to warrant his con
clusion ? The mother would reason in
just the same way if similarly placed.
If, among her acquaintance, she found
some one who was constantly thwarting
her wishes, uttering sharp reprimands,
and occasionally inflicting actual penal
ties on her, she would pay small atten
tion to any professions of anxiety for her
welfare which accompanied these acts.
Why, then, does she suppose that her
boy will do otherwise ?
But now observe how different will be
the results if the system we contend for
be consistently pursued—if the mother
not only avoids becoming the instru
ment of punishment, but plays' the part
of a friend, by warning her boy of the
pun.’shment which Nature will inflict.
Take a case; and that it may illustrate
the mode in which this policy is to be
early initiated, let it be one of the
simplest cases. Suppose that, prompted
by the experimental spirit so conspicuous
in children, whose proceedings instinc
tively conform to the inductive method
of inquiry—suppose that so prompted,
the boy is amusing himself by lighting
pieces of paper in the candle and watch
ing them burn. A mother of the
ordinary unreflective stamp, will either,
on the plea of keeping him “ out of
mischief,” or from fear that he will burn
himself, command him to desist; and in
case of non-compliance will snatch the
paper from him. But should he be fortu
nate enough to have a mother of some
rationality, who knows that this interest
with which he is watching the paper burn,
results from a healthy inquisitiveness, and
who has also the wisdom to consider
the results of interference, she will
reason thus:—“If I put a stop to this
I shall prevent the acquirement of a
certain amount of knowledge.
It is
true that I may save the child from a
burn but what then ? He is sure to
burn himself some time; and it is quite
essential to his safety in life that he
should learn by experience the properties
of flame. If I forbid him from running
this present risk, he will certainly here
after run the same or a greater risk when
no one is present toprevent him; whereas,
should he have an accident now that
I am by, I can save him from any great
injury. Moreover, were I to make him
desist, I should thwart him in the pursuit
of what is in itself a purely harmless, and
indeed, instructive gratification; and he
would regard me with more or less illfeeling. Ignorant as he is of the pain
from which I would save him, and feeling
only the pain of a baulked desire, he
could not fail to look on me as the
cause of that pain. To save him from a
hurt which he cannot conceive, and
which has therefore no existence for
him, I hurt him in a way which he feels
keenly enough; and so become, from
his point of view, a minister of evil. My
best course, then, is simply to warn him
of the danger, and to be ready to prevent
any serious damage.” And following
out this conclusion, she says to the child
—“ I fear you will hurt yourself if you
do that.” Suppose, now, that the boy,
persevering as he will probably do, ends
by burning his hand. What are the
results ? In the first place he has gained
an experience which he must gain
eventually, and which, for his own safety,
he cannot gain too soon. And in the
second place, he has found that his
�MORAL EDUCATION
mother’s disapproval or warning was
meant for his welfare : he has a further
positive experience of her benevolence
a further reason for placing confidence
in her judgment and kindness—a further
reason for loving her.
Of course, in those occasional hazards
where there is a risk of broken limbs or
other serious injury, forcible prevention
is called for. But leaving out extreme
cases, the system pursued should be, not
that of guarding a child from the small
risks which it daily runs, but that of
advising and warning it against them.
And by pursuing this course, a much
stronger filial affection will be generated
than commonly exists. If here, as else
where, the discipline of the natural
reactions is allowed to come into play
if in those out-door scrambling and in
door experiments, by which children are
liable to injure themselves, they are
allowed to persist, subject only to dis
suasion more or less earnest according
to the danger, there cannot fail to arise
an ever-increasing faith in the parental
friendship and guidance. Not only, as
before shown, does the adoption of this
course enable fathers and mothers to
avoid the odium which attaches to the
infliction of positive punishment; but,
as we here see, it enables them to avoid
the odium which attaches to constant
thwartings j and even to turn those
incidents that commonly cause squabbles
into a means of strengthening the mutual
good feeling. Instead of being told in
words, which deeds seem to contradict,
that their parents are their best friends,
children will learn this truth by a con
sistent daily experience; and so learning
it, will acquire a degree of trust and
attachment which nothing else can give.
And now, having indicated the more
sympathetic relation which must result
from the habitual use of this method,
85
let us return to the question above put
—How is this method to be applied to
the graver offences ?
Note, in the first place, that these
graver offences are likely to be both less
frequent and less grave under the régime
we have described than under the ordi
nary régime. The ill-behaviour of many
children is in itself a consequence of
that chronic irritation in which they are
kept by bad management. The state of
isolation and antagonism produced by
frequent punishment, necessarily deadens
the sympathies ; necessarily, therefore,
opens the way to those transgressions
which the sympathies check.
That
harsh treatment which children of the
same family inflict on each other is often,
in great measure, a reflex of the harsh
treatment they receive from adults
partly suggested by direct example, and
partly generated by the ill-temper and
the tendency to vicarious retaliation,
which follow chastisements and scoldings.
It cannot be questioned that the greater
activity of the affections and happier
state of feeling, maintained in children
by the discipline we have described,
must prevent them from sinning against
each other so gravely and so frequently.
The still more reprehensible offences, as
lies and petty thefts, will, by the same
causes, be diminished. Domestic estrange
ment is a fruitful source of such trans
gressions. It is a law of human nature,
visible enough to all who observe, that
those who are debarred the higher grati
fications fall back upon the lower ; those
who have no sympathetic pleasures seek
selfish ones ; and hence, conversely, the
maintenance of happier relations between
parents and children is calculated to
diminish the number of those offences
of which selfishness is the origin.
When, however, such offences are
committed, as they will occasionally be
�86
EDUCATION
even under the best system, the discipline
of consequences may still be resorted to;
and if there exists that bond of con
fidence and affection above described,
this discipline will be efficient. For
what are the natural consequences, say,
of a theft ? They are of two kinds—
direct and indirect. The direct conse
quence, as dictated by pure equity, is
that of making restitution. A just ruler
(and every parent should aim to be one)
will demand that, when possible, a wrong
act shall be undone by a right one; and
in the case of theft this implies either
the restoration of the thing stolen, or, if
it is consumed, the giving of an equiva
lent : which, in the case of a child, may
be effected out of its pocket-money.
The indirect and more serious conse
quence is the grave displeasure of parents
—a consequence which inevitably follows
among all peoples civilised enough to
regard theft as a crime. “ But,” it will'
be said, “ the manifestation of parental
displeasure, either in words or blows, is
the ordinary course in these cases : the
method leads here to nothing new.”
Very true. Already we have admitted
that, in some directions, this method is
spontaneously pursued.
Already we
have shown that there is a tendency for
educational systems to gravitate towards
the true system. And here we may
remark, as before, that the intensity of
this natural reaction will, in the beneficent
order of things, adjust itself to the
requirements—that this parental dis
pleasure will vent itself in violent
measures during comparatively barbarous
times, when children are also compara
tively barbarous; and will express itself
less cruelly in those more advanced
social states in which, by implication,
the children are amenable to milder
treatment. But what it chiefly concerns
us here to observe is, that the manifesta
tion of strong parental displeasure, pro
duced by one of these graver offences,
will be potent for good, just in proportion
to the warmth of the attachment existing
between parent and child. Just in pro
portion as the discipline of natural con
sequences has been consistently pursued
in other cases, will it be efficient in this
case. Proof is within the experience of
all, if they will look for it.
For does not every one know that
when he has offended another, the
amount of regret he feels (of course,
leaving worldly considerations out of the
question) varies with the degree of
sympathy he has for that other ? Is he
not conscious that when the person
offended is an enemy, the having given
him annoyance is apt to be a source
rather of secret satisfaction than of
sorrow ? Does he not remember that
where umbrage has been taken by some
total stranger, he has felt much less con
cern than he would have done had such
umbrage been taken by one with whom
he was intimate ? While, conversely,
has not the anger of an admired and
cherished friend been regarded by him
as a serious misfortune, long and keenly
regretted ? Well, the effects of parental
displeasure on children must similarly
vary with the pre-existing relationship.
Where there is an established alienation,
the feeling of a child who has trans
gressed is a purely selfish fear of the
impending physical penalties or depriva
tions ; and after these have been inflicted,
the injurious antagonism and dislike
which result, add to the alienation. On
the contrary, where there exists a warm
filial affection produced by a consistent
parental friendship, the state of mind
caused by parental displeasure is not
only a salutary check to future miscon
duct of like kind, but is intrinsically
salutary. The moral pain consequent
�MORAL EDUCATION
on having, for the time being, lost so
loved a friend, stands in place of the
physical pain usually inflicted, and
proves equally, if not more, efficient.
While instead of the fear and vindictive
ness excited by the one course, there are
excited by the other a sympathy with
parental sorrow, a genuine regret for
having caused it, and a desire, by some
atonement, to re-establish the friendly
relationship. Instead of bringing into
play those egotistic feelings whose pre
dominance is the cause of criminal acts,
there are brought into play those altruistic
feelings which check criminal acts, fl hus
the discipline of natural consequences
is applicable to grave as well as trivial
faults; and the practice of it conduces
not simply to the repression, but to the
eradication of such faults.
In brief, the truth is that savageness
begets savageness, and gentleness begets
gentleness. Children who are unsympa
thetically treated become unsympathetic;
whereas treating them with due fellowfeeling is a means of cultivating their
fellow-feeling. With family governments
as with political ones, a harsh despotism
itself generates a great part of the crimes
it has to repress; while on the other
hand a mild and liberal rule both avoids
many causes of dissension, and so
ameliorates the tone of feeling as to
diminish the tendency to transgression.
As John Locke long since remarked,
“Great severity of punishment does but
very little good, nay, great harm, in
education; and I believe it will be found
that, cceteris paribus, those children who
have been most chastised seldom make
the best men.” In confirmation of which
opinion we may cite the fact not long
since made public by Mr. Rogers,
Chaplain of the Pentonville Prison, that
those juvenile criminals who have been
whipped are those who most frequently
87
return to prison. Conversely, the bene
ficial effects of a kinder treatment, are
well illustrated in a fact stated to us by
a French lady, in whose house we recently
stayed in Paris. Apologising for the dis
turbance daily caused by a little boy who
was unmanageable both at home and at
school, she expressed her fear that there
was no remedy save that which had
succeeded in the case of an elder brother;
namely, sending him to an English school.
She explained that at various schools in
Paris this elder brother had proved
utterly untractable; that in despair they
had followed the advice to send him to
England; and that on his return home
he was as good as he had before been
bad.
This remarkable change she
ascribed entirely to the comparative
mildness of the English discipline.
After the foregoing exposition of
principles, our remaining space may best
be occupied by a few of the chief maxims
and rules deducible from them; and
with a view to brevity we will put these
in a hortatory form.
Do not expect from a child any great
amount of moral goodness.
During
early years every civilised man passes
through that phase of character exhibited
by the barbarous race from which he is
descended. As the child’s features—
flat nose, forward-opening nostrils, large
lips, wide-apart eyes, absent frontal sinus,
&c.—resemble for a time those of the
savage, so, too, do his instincts. Hence
the tendencies to cruelty, to thieving,
to lying, so general among children—
tendencies which, even without the aid
of discipline, will become more or less
modified just as the features do. The
popular idea that children are “innocent,”
while it is true with respect to evil know
ledge, is totally false with respect to evil
impulses; as half an hour’s observation
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EDUCATION
in the nursery will prove to any one.
Boys when left to themselves, as at
public schools, treat each other more
brutally than men do; and were they
left to themselves at an earlier age
their brutality would be still more con
spicuous.
Not only is it unwise to set up a high
standard of good conduct for children,
but it is even unwise to use very urgent
incitements to good conduct. Already
most people recognise the detrimental
results of intellectual precocity; but there
remains to be recognised the fact that
moral precocity also has detrimental
results. Our higher moral faculties, like
our higher intellectual ones, are com
paratively complex.
By consequence
both are comparatively late in their
evolution. And with the one as with
the other, an early activity produced by
stimulation will be at the expense of the
future character. Hence the not un
common anomaly that those who during
childhood were models of juvenile good
ness, by-and-by undergo a seemingly
inexplicable change for the worse, and
end by being not above but below par;
while relatively exemplary men are often
the issue of a childhood by no means
promising.
Be content, therefore, with moderate
measures and moderate results. Bear
in mind that a higher morality, like a
higher intelligence, must be reached by
slow growth; and you will then have
patience with those imperfections which
your child hourly displays. You will be
less prone to that constant scolding, and
threatening, and forbidding, by which
many parents induce a chronic domestic
irritation, in the foolish hope that they
will thus make their children what they
should be.
This liberal form of domestic govern
ment, which does not seek despotically
to regulate all the details of a child’s
conduct, necessarily results from the
system we advocate. Satisfy yourself
with seeing that your child always
suffers the natural consequences of his
actions, and you will avoid that excess
of control in which so many parents err.
Leave him wherever you can to the
discipline of experience, and you will
save him from that hot-house virtue
which over-regulation produces in
yielding natures, or that demoralising
antagonism which it produces in inde
pendent ones.
By aiming in all cases to insure the
natural reactions to your child’s actions,
you will put an advantageous check on
your own temper. The method of
moral education pursued by many, we
fear by most, parents, is little else than
that of venting their anger in the way
that first suggests itself. The slaps, and
rough shakings, and sharp words, with
which a mother commonly visits her
offspring’s small offences (many of them
not offences considered intrinsically), are
generally but the manifestations of her
ill-controlled feelings—result much more
from the promptings of those feelings
than from a wish to benefit the offenders.
But by pausing in each case of trans
gression to consider what is the normal
consequence, and how it may best be
brought home to the transgressor, some
little time is obtained for the mastery of
yourself; the mere blind anger first
aroused settles down into a less vehement
feeling, and one not so likely to mislead
you.
Do not, however, seek to behave as a
passionless instrument. Remember that
besides the natural reactions to your
child’s actions which the working of
things tends to bring round on him, your
own approbation or disapprobation is
also a natural reaction, and one of the
�MORAL EDUCATION
ordained agencies for guiding him. The
error we have been combating is that of
substituting parental displeasure and its
artificial penalties for the penalties which
Nature has established. But while it
should not be substituted for these
natural penalties, we by no means argue
that it should not accompany them.
Though the secondary kind of punish
ment should not usurp the place of the
primary kind; it may, in moderation,
rightly supplement the primary kind.
Such amount of sorrow or indignation as
you feel, should be expressed in words
or manner : subject, of course, to the
approval of your judgment. The kind
and degree of feeling produced in you,
will necessarily depend on your own
character; and it is therefore useless to
say it should be this or that. Neverthe
less you may endeavour to modify the
feeling into that which you believe
ought to be entertained. Beware, how
ever, of the two extremes ; not only in
respect of the intensity, but in respect of
the duration, of your displeasure. On
the one hand, avoid that weak impul
siveness, so general among mothers,
which scolds and forgives almost in the
same breath. On the other hand, do
not unduly continue to show estrange
ment of feeling, lest you accustom your
child to do without your friendship, and
so lose your influence over him. The
moral reactions called forth from you by
your child’s actions, you should as much
as possible assimilate to those which you
conceive would be called forth from a
parent of perfect nature.
Be sparing of commands. Command
only when other means are inexplicable,
or have failed. “ In frequent orders the
parents’ advantage is more considered
than the child’s,” says Richter. As in
primitive societies a breach of law is
punished, not so much because it is
89
intrinsically wrong as because it is a
disregard of the king’s authority—a
rebellion against him; so in many
families, the penalty visited on a trans
gressor is prompted less by reprobation
of the offence than by anger at the dis
obedience. Listen to the ordinary
speeches—“ How dare you disobey me ?”
“ I tell you I’ll make you do it, sir
“ I’ll soon teach you who is master ”—
and then consider what the words, the
tone, and the manner imply. A deter
mination to subjugate is far more con
spicuous in them than anxiety for the
child’s welfare. For the time being the
attitude of mind differs but little from
that of a despot bent on punishing a
recalcitrant subject. The right-feeling
parent, however, like the philanthropic
legislator, will rejoice not in coercion,
but in dispensing with coercion. He
will do without law wherever other
modes of regulating conduct can be
successfully employed; and he will
regret the having recourse to law when
law is necessary. As Richter remarks—
“ The best rule in politics is said to be
1 pas trop gouverner’: it is also true in
education.” And in spontaneous con
formity with this maxim, parents whose
lust of dominion is restrained by a true
sense of duty, will aim to make their
children control themselves as much as
possible, and will fall back upon abso
lutism only as a last resort.
But whenever you do command, com
mand with decision and consistency. If
the case is one which really cannot be
otherwise dealt with, then issue your fiat,
and having issued it, never afterwards
swerve from it. Consider well what you
are going to do; weigh all the conse
quences ; think whether you have
adequate firmness of purpose; and then,
if you finally make the law, enforce
obedience at whatever cost. Let your
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EDUCATION
penalties be like the penalties inflicted
by inanimate Nature—inevitable. The
hot cinder burns a child the first time he
seizes it; it burns him the second time ;
it burns him the third time; it burns him
every time; and he very soon learns not
to touch the hot cinder. If you are
equally consistent—if the consequences
which you tell your child will follow
specified acts, follow with like uniformity,
he will soon come to respect your laws
as he does those of Nature. And this
respect once established, will prevent
endless domestic evils. Of errors in
education one of the worst is incon
sistency. As in a community, crimes
multiply when there is no certain
administration of justice; so in a family,
an immense increase of transgressions
results from a hesitating or irregular
infliction of punishments. A weak
mother, who perpetually threatens and
rarely performs—who makes rules in
haste and repents of them at leisure—
who treats the same offence now with
severity and now with leniency, as the
passing humour dictates, is laying up
miseries for herself and her children.
She is making herself contemptible in
their eyes; she is setting them an
example of uncontrolled feelipgs; she
is encouraging them to transgress by the
prospect of probable impunity; she is
entailing endless squabbles and accom
panying damage to her own temper and
the tempers of her little ones; she is
reducing their minds to a moral chaos,
which after-years of bitter experience
will with difficulty bring into order.
Better even a barbarous form of domestic
government carried out consistently than
a humane one inconsistently carried out.
Again we say, avoid coercive measures
wherever it is possible to do so; but
when you find despotism really neces
sary, be despotic in good earnest.
Remember that the aim of your
discipline should be to produce a selfgoverning being; not to produce a being
to be governed by others. Were your
children fated to pass their lives as
slaves, you could not too much accustom
them to slavery during their childhood;
but as they are by-and-by to be free men,
with no one to control their daily con
duct, you cannot too much accustom
them to self-control while they are still
under your eye. This it is which makes
the system of discipline by natural con
sequences, so especially appropriate tothe social state which we in England
have now reached. In feudal times,,
when one of the chief evils the citizen
had to fear was the anger of his superiors,
it was well that during childhood, parental
vengeance should be a chief means of
government. But now that the citizen
has little to fear from any one—now that
the good or evil which he experiences is
mainly that which in the order of things
results from his own conduct, he should
from his first years begin to learn, experi
mentally, the good or evil consequences
which naturally follow this or that con
duct. Aim, therefore, to diminish the
parental government, as fast as you can
substitute for it in your child’s mind that
self-government arising from a foresight
of results. During infancy a considerable
amount of absolutism is necessary. A
three-year old urchin playing with an
open razor, cannot be allowed to learn
by this discipline of consequences; for
the consequences may be too serious.
But as intelligence increases, the number
of peremptory interferences may be, and
should be, diminished; with the view
of gradually ending them as maturity
is approached.
All transitions aredangerous ; and the most dangerousis the transition from the restraint of
the family circle to the non-restraint of
�MORAL EDUCATION
the world. Hence the importance of
pursuing the policy we advocate; which,
by cultivating a boy’s faculty of self
restraint, by continually increasing the
degree in which he is left to his self
restraint, and by so bringing him, step
by step, to a state of unaided self-restraint,
obliterates the ordinary sudden and
hazardous change from externallygoverned youth to internally-governed
maturity.
Let the history of your
domestic rule typify, in little, the history
of our political rule: at the outset,
autocratic control, where control is really
needful; by-and-by an incipient consti
tutionalism, in which the liberty of the
subject gains some express recognition;
successive extensions of this liberty of
the subject; gradually ending in parental
abdication.
Do not regret the display of consider
able self-will on the part of your children.
It is the correlative of that diminished
coerciveness so conspicuous in modern
education. The greater tendency to
assert freedom of action on the one side,
corresponds to the smaller tendency to
tyrannise on the other. They both
indicate an approach to the system of
discipline we contend for, under which
children will be more and more led to
rule themselves by the experience of
natural consequences; and they are both
accompaniments of our more advanced
social state. The independent English
boy is the father of the independent
English man; and you cannot have the
last without the first. German teachers
say that they had rather manage a dozen
German boys than one English one.
Shall we, therefore, wish that our boys
had the manageableness of German
ones, and with it the submissiveness and
political serfdom of adult Germans ?
Or shall we not rather tolerate in our
boys those feelings which make them
free men, and modify our methods
accordingly ?
Lastly, always recollect that to edu
cate rightly is not a simple and easy
thing, but a complex and extremely
difficult thing, the hardest task which
devolves on adult life. The rough and
ready style of domestic government is
indeed practicable by the meanest and
most uncultivated intellects. Slaps and
sharp words are penalties that suggest
themselves alike to the least reclaimed
barbarian and the stolidest peasant.
Even brutes can use this method of
discipline; as you may see in the growl
and half-bite with which a bitch will
check a too-exigeant puppy- But if you
would carry out with success a rational'
and civilised system, you must be pre
pared for considerable mental exertion—■
for some study, some ingenuity, some
patience, some self-control. You will
have habitually to consider what are the
results which in adult life follow certain
kinds of acts; and you must then devise
methods by which parallel results shall
be entailed on the parallel acts of your
children. It will daily be needful to
analyse the motives of juvenile conduct
—to distinguish between acts that are
really good and those which, though
simulating them, proceed from inferior
impulses; while you will have to be ever
on your guard against the cruel mistake
not unfrequently made, of translating
neutral acts into transgressions, or
ascribing worse feelings than were enter
tained. You must more or less modify
your method to suit the disposition of
each child; and must be prepared to
make further modifications as each
child’s disposition enters on a new phase.
Your faith will often be taxed to main
tain the requisite perseverance in a
course which seems to produce little or
no effect. Especially if you are dealing
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EDUCATION
with children who have been wrongly
treated, you must be prepared for a
lengthened trial of patience before suc
ceeding with better methods; since that
which is not easy even where a right
state of feeling has been established
from the beginning, becomes doubly
difficult when a wrong state of feeling
has to be set right. Not only will you
have constantly to analyse the motives
of your children, but you will have to
analyse your own motives—to discrimi
nate between those internal suggestions
springing from a true parental solicitude
and those which spring from your own
selfishness, your love of ease, your lust of
dominion. And then, more trying still,
you will have not only to detect, but to
curb these baser impulses. In brief,
you will have to carry on your own
higher education at the same time that
you are educating your children. Intel
lectually you must cultivate to good
purpose that most complex of subjects—
human nature and its laws, as exhibited
in your children, in yourself, and in the
world. Morally, you must keep in con
stant exercise your higher feelings, and
restrain your lower. It is a truth yet
remaining to be recognised, that the last
stage in the mental development of each
man and woman is to be reached only
through a proper discharge of the
parental duties. And when this truth is
recognised, it will be seen how admirable
is the arrangement through which human
beings are led by their strongest affec
tions to subject themselves to a discipline
that they would else elude.
While some will regard this concep
tion of education as it should be, with
doubt and discouragement, others will,
we think, perceive in the exalted ideal
which it involves, evidence of its truth.
That it cannot be realised by the impul
sive, the unsympathetic, and the short
sighted, but demands the higher attri
butes of human nature, they will see to
be evidence of its fitness for the more
advanced state of humanity. Though it
calls for much labour and self-sacrifice,
they will see that it promises an abundant
return of happiness, immediate and
remote. They will see that while in its
injurious effects on both parent and
child a bad system is twice cursed, a
good system is twice blessed—it blesses
him that trains and him that’s trained.
CHAPTER IV.
PHYSICAL EDUCATION
Equally at the squire’s table after the
withdrawal of the ladies, at the farmers’
market ordinary, and at the village ale
house, the topic which, after the political
question of the day, excites the most
general interest, is the management of
animals. Riding home from hunting,
the conversation usually gravitates towards
horse-breeding, and pedigrees, and com
ments on this or that “good point”;
while a day on the moors is very unlikely
to end without something being said on
the treatment of dogs. When crossing
the fields together from church, the
tenants of adjacent farms are apt to pass
from criticisms on the sermon to criticisms
on the weather, the crops, and the stock;
and thence to slide into discussions on
the various kinds of fodder and their
feeding qualities. Hodge and Giles,
after comparing notes over their respective
pig-styes, show by their remarks that
they have been observant of their masters’
beasts and sheep ; and of the effects
produced on them by this or that kind
of treatment. Nor is it only among the
�PHYSICAL EDUCATION
rural population that the regulations of
the kennel, the stable, the cow-shed, and
the sheep-pen, are favourite subjects.
In towns, too, the numerous artizans
who keep dogs, the young men who are
rich enough to now and then indulge
their sporting tendencies, and their more
staid seniors who talk over agricultural
progress or read Mr. Mechi’s annual
reports and Mr. Caird’s letters to the
Times, form, when added together, a
large portion of the inhabitants. Take
the adult males throughout the kingdom,
and a great majority will be found to
show some interest in the breeding,
rearing, or training of animals of one
kind or other.
But, during after-dinner conversations,
or at other times of like intercourse, who
hears anything said about the rearing of
children ? When the country gentleman
has paid his daily visit to the stable,
and personally inspected the condition
and treatment of his horses ; when he
has glanced at his minor live stock,
and given directions about them; how
often does he go up to the nursery and
examine into its dietary, its hours, its
ventilation ? On his library-shelves may
be found White’s Farriery, Stephens’s
Book of the Farm, Nimrod On the
Condition of Hunters-, and with the con
tents of these he is more or less familiar;
but how many books has he read on the
management of infancy and childhood ?
The fattening properties of oil-cake, the
relative values of hay and chopped straw,
the dangers of unlimited clover, are points
bn which every landlord, farmer, and
peasant has some knowledge ; but what
percentage of them inquire whether the
food they give their children is adapted
to the constitutional needs of growing
boys and girls ? Perhaps the business
interests of these classes will be assigned
as accounting for this anomaly. The
93
explanation is inadequate, however;
seeing that the same contrast holds
among other classes. Of a score of
townspeople, few, if any, would prove
ignorant of the fact that it is undesirable
to work a horse soon after it has eaten ;
and yet, of this same score, supposing
them all to be fathers, probably not one
would be found who had considered
whether the time elapsing between his
children’s dinner and their resumption
of lessons was sufficient. Indeed, on
cross-examination, nearly every man
would disclose the latent opinion that
the regimen of the nursery was no concern
of his. “ Oh, I leave all those things to
the women,” would probably be the reply.
And in most cases the tone of this reply
would convey the implication, that such
cares are not consistent with masculine
dignity.
Regarded from any but a conventional
point of view, the fact seems strange that
while the raising of first-rate bullocks is
an occupation on which educated men
willingly bestow much time and thought,
the bringing up of fine human beings is
an occupation tacitly voted unworthy of
their attention. Mammas who have been
taught little but languages, music, and
accomplishments, aided by nurses full of
antiquated prejudices, are held competent
regulators of the food, clothing, and
exercise of children. Meanwhile the
fathers read books and periodicals, attend
agricultural meetings, try experiments,
and engage in discussions, all with the
view of discovering how to fatten prize
pigs ! We see infinite pains taken to
produce a racer that shall win the Derby :
none to produce a modern athlete. Had
Gulliver narrated of the Laputans that
the men vied with each other in learning
how best to rear the offspring of other
creatures, and were careless of learning
how best to rear their own offspring, he
�94
EDUCATION
would have paralleled any of the other
absurdities he ascribes to them.
The matter is a serious one, however.
Ludicrous as is the antithesis, the fact
it expresses is not less disastrous. As
remarks a suggestive writer, the first
requisite to success in life is “to be a
good animal and to be a nation of
good animals is the first condition to
national prosperity. Not only is it that
the event of a war often turns on the
strength and hardiness of soldiers; but
it is that the contests of commerce are
in part determined by the bodily endu
rance of producers. Thus far we have
found no reason to fear trials of strength
with other races in either of these fields.
But there are not wanting signs that our
powers will presently be taxed to the
uttermost. The competition of modern
life is so keen, that few can bear the
required application without injury.
Already thousands break down under
the high pressure they are subject to. If
this pressure continues to increase, as it
seems likely to do, it will try severely
even the soundest constitutions. Hence
it is becoming of especial importance
that the training of children should be
so carried on, as not only to fit
them mentally for the struggle before
them, but also to make them physi
cally fit to bear its excessive wear and
tear.
Happily the matter is beginning to
attract attention. The writings of Mr.
Kingsley indicate a reaction against over
culture ; carried perhaps, as reactions
usually are, somewhat too far. Occasional
letters and leaders in the newspapers
have shown an awakening interest in
physical training. And the formation
of a school, significantly nicknamed
that of “ muscular Christianity,” implies
a growing opinion that our present
methods of bringing up children do
not sufficiently regard the welfare of
the body. The topic is evidently ripe
for discussion.
To conform the regimen of the nursery
and the school to the established truths of
modern science —this is the desideratum.
It is time that the benefits which our
sheep and oxen are deriving from the
investigations of the laboratory, should
be participated in by our children.
Without calling in question the great
importance of horse-training and pig
feeding, we would suggest that, as the
rearing of well-grown men and women
is also of some moment, these conclusions
which theory indicates and practice
indorses, ought to be acted on in the
last case as in the first. Probably not
a few will be startled—perhaps offended
—by this collocation of ideas. But it
is a fact not to be disputed, and to which
we must reconcile ourselves, that man
is subject to the same organic laws as
inferior creatures. No anatomist, no
physiologist, no chemist, will for a
moment hesitate to assert, that the
general principles which are true of
the vital processes in animals are equally
true of the vital processes in man. And
a candid admission of this fact is not
without its reward: namely, that the
generalisations established by observation
and experiment on brutes, become avail
able for human guidance. Rudimentary
as is the Science of Life, it has already
attained to certain fundamental principles
underlying the development of all
organisms, the human included. That
which has now to be done, and that
which we shall endeavour in some measure
to do, is to trace the bearings of these
fundamental principles on the physical
training of childhood and youth.
The rhythmical tendency which is
traceable in all departments of social
�PHYSICAL EDUCATION
95
life—which is illustrated in the access of easily corrected, that those of inanition.”1
despotism after revolution, or, among Besides, where there has been no
ourselves, in the alternation of reforming injudicious interference, repletion seldom
epochs and conservative epochs—which, occurs. “ Excess is the vice rather of
after a dissolute age, brings an age of adults than of the young, who are rarely
asceticism, and conversely,—which, in either gourmands or epicures, unless
commerce, produces the recurring infla through the fault of those who rear
tions and panics—which carries the them.”2 This system of restriction
devotees of fashion from one absurd which many parents think so necessary,
extreme to the opposite one :— this is based upon inadequate observation,
rhythmical tendency affects also our and erroneous reasoning. There is an
table-habits, and by implication, the over-legislation in the nursery, as well as
dietary of the young. After a period an over-legislation in the State ; and one
distinguished by hard drinking and hard of the most injurious forms of it is this
eating, has come a period of comparative limitation in the quantity of food.
“ But are children to be allowed to
sobriety, which, in teetotalism and
vegetarianism, exhibits extreme forms surfeit themselves ? Shall they be suffere d
of protest against the riotous living of to take their fill of dainties and make
the past. And along with this change themselves ill, as they certainly will do ?”
in the regimen of adults, has come a As thus put, the question admits of but
parallel change in the regimen for boys one reply. But as thus put, it assumes
and girls. In past generations the the point at issue. We contend that,
belief was, that the more a child could as appetite is a good guide to all the
be induced to eat the better; and even lower creation—as it is a good guide to
now, among farmers and in remote the infant—as it is a good guide to the
districts, where traditional ideas most invalid—as it is a good guide to the
linger, parents may be found who tempt differently-placed races of men—and as
their children into repletion. But among it is a good guide for every adult who
the educated classes, who chiefly display leads a healthful life ; it may safely be
this reaction towards abstemiousness, inferred that it is a good guide for child
there may be seen a decided leaning hood. It would be strange indeed were
to the under-feeding, rather than the it here alone untrustworthy.
Perhaps some will read this reply with
over-feeding of children. Indeed their
disgust for by-gone animalism, is more impatience; being able, as they think,
clearly shown in the treatment of their to cite facts totally at variance with it.
offspring than in the treatment of them It may appear absurd if we deny the
selves; for while their disguised asceticism relevancy of these facts. And yet the
is, in so far as their personal conduct is paradox is quite defensible. The truth
concerned, kept in check by their appe is, that the instances of excess which
tites, it has full play in legislating for such persons have in mind, are usually
the consequences of the restrictive system
juveniles.
That over-feeding and under-feeding they seem to justify. They are the
are both bad, is a truism. Of the two, sensual reactions caused by an ascetic
They illustrate on a small
however, the last is the worst. As writes regimen.
a high authority, “ the effects of casual
1 Cyclopedia of Practical Medicine.
3 lb.
repletion are less prejudicial, and more
�96
EDUCATION
scale that commonly-remarked truth,
that those who during youth have been
subject to the most, rigorous discipline,
are apt afterwards to rush into the wildest
extravagances. They are analogous to
those frightful phenomena, once not
uncommon in convents, where nuns
suddenly lapsed from the extremest
austerities into an almost demoniac
wickedness.
They simply exhibit the
uncontrollable vehemence of long-denied
desires.
Consider the ordinary tastes
and the ordinary treatment of children.
The love of sweets is conspicuous and
almost universal among them. Probably
ninety-nine people in a hundred presume
that there is nothing more in this than
gratification of the palate; and that, in
common with other sensual desires, it
should be discouraged. The physiolo
gist, however, whose discoveries lead
him to an ever-increasing reverence for
the arrangements of things, suspects
something more in this love of sweets
than is currently supposed ; and inquiry
confirms the suspicion. He finds that
sugar plays an important part in the
vital processes. Both saccharine and
fatty matters are eventually oxidised in
the body; and there is an accompanying
evolution of heat. Sugar is the form to
which sundry other compounds have to
be reduced before they are available as
heat-making food; and this formation
of sugar is carried on in the body. Not
only is starch changed into sugar in the
course of digestion, but it has been
proved by M. Claude Bernard that the
liver is a factory in which other con
stituents of food are transformed into
sugar: the need for sugar being so
imperative that it is even thus produced
from nitrogenous substances when no
others are given. Now, when to the
fact that children have a marked desire
for this valuable heat-food, we join the
fact that they have usually a marked
dislike to that food which gives out the
greatest amount of heat during oxidation
(namely, fat), we have reason for think
ing that excess of the one compensates
for defect of the other—that the organism
demands more sugar because it cannot
deal with much fat. Again, children are
fond of vegetable acids. Fruits of all
kinds are their delight; and, in the
absence of anything better, they will
devour unripe gooseberries and the
sourest of crabs. Now not only are
vegetable acids, in common with mineral
ones, very good tonics, and beneficial
as such when taken in moderation, but
they have, when administered in their
natural forms, other advantages. “ Ripe
fruit,” says Dr. Andrew Combe, “ is
more freely given on the Continent than
in this country; and, particularly when
the bowels act imperfectly, it is often
very useful.” See, then, the discord
between the instinctive wants of children
and their habitual treatment.
Here
are two dominant desires, which in
all probability express certain needs
of the child’s constitution ; and not only
are they ignored in the nursery-regimen,
but there is a general tendency to forbid
the gratification of them. Bread-andmilk in the morning, tea and bread-andbutter at night, or some dietary equally
insipid, is rigidly adhered to ; and any
ministration to the palate is thought
needless, or rather, wrong. What is the
consequence ?
When, on fête-days,
there is unlimited access to good things
—when a gift of pocket-money brings
the contents of the confectioner’s window
within reach, or when by some accident
the free run of a fruit-garden is obtained;
then the long-denied, and therefore
intense, desires lead to great excesses.
There is an impromptu carnival, due
partly to release from past restraints, and
�PHYSICAL EDUCATION
partly to the consciousness that a long
Lent will begin on the morrow. And
then, when the evils of repletion display
themselves, it is argued that children
must not be left to the guidance of their
appetites ! These disastrous results of
artificial restrictions, are themselves cited
as proving the need for further restric
tions ! We contend therefore, that the
reasoning used to justify this system of
interference is vicious. We contend
that, were children allowed daily to
partake of these more sapid edibles,
for which there is a physiological require
ment, they would rarely exceed, as they
now mostly do when they have the
opportunity: were fruit, as Dr. Combe
recommends, “ to constitute a part of
the regular food ” (given, as he advises,
not between meals, but along with them),
there would be none of that craving
which prompts the devouring of crabs
and sloes. And similarly in other cases.
Not only is it that the a priori reasons
for trusting the appetites of children are
strong; and that the reasons assigned
for distrusting them are invalid; but it
is that no other guidance is worthy of
confidence. What is the value of this
parental judgment, set up as an alterna
tive regulator ? When to “ Oliver asking
for more,” the mamma or governess says
“ No,” on what data does she proceed ?
She thinks he has had enough. But
where are her grounds for so thinking?
Has she some secret understanding with
the boy’s stomach—some clairvoyant
power enabling her to discern the needs
of his body ? If not, how can she safely
decide ? Does she not know that the
demand of the system for food is deter
mined by numerous and involved causes
•—varies with the temperature, with the
hygrometric state of the air, with the
electric state of the air—varies also
according to the exercise taken, accord
97
ing to the kind and quantity of food
eaten at the last meal, and according to
the rapidity with which the last meal was
digested? How can she calculate the
result of such a combination of causes ?
As we heard said by the father of a fiveyears-old boy, who stands a head taller
than most of his age, and is propor
tionately robust, rosy, and active :—“ I
can see no artificial standard by which
to mete out his food. If I say, ‘ this
much is enough,’ it is a mere guess ;
and the guess is as likely to be wrong as
right. Consequently, having no faith in
guesses, I let him eat his fill.” And,
certainly, any one judging of his policy
by its effects, would be constrained to
admit its wisdom. In truth, this con
fidence, with which most persons legislate
for the stomachs of their children, proves
their unacquaintance with physiology:
if they knew more, they would be more
modest.
“The pride of science is
humble when compared with the pride
of ignorance.” If any one would learn
how little faith is to be placed, in human
judgments, and how much in the preestablished arrangement of things, let
him compare the rashness of the inex
perienced physician with the caution of
the most advanced; or let him dip into
Sir John Forbes’s work, On Nature and
Art in the Cure of Disease ; and he will
see that, in proportion as men gain
knowledge of the laws of life, they come
to have less confidence in themselves, and
more in Nature.
Turning from the question of quantity
of food to that of quality, we may discern
the same ascetic tendency. Not simply
a restricted diet, but a comparatively low
diet, is thought proper for children. The
current opinion is, that they should have
but little animal food. Among the less
wealthy classes, economy seems to have
dictated this opinion—the wish has been
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EDUCATION
father to the thought. Parents not
affording to buy much meat, answer the
petitions of juveniles with—“Meat is
not good for little boys and girls ”; and
this, at first probably nothing but a con
venient excuse, has by repetition grown
into an article of faith. While the classes
with whom cost is no consideration, have
been swayed partly by the example of
the majority, partly by the influence of
nurses drawn from thp lower classes, and
in some measure by the reaction against
past animalism.
If, however, we inquire for the basis
of this opinion, we find little or none.
It is a dogma repeated and received
without proof, like that which, for thou
sands of years, insisted on swaddlingclothes. Very probably for the infant’s
stomach, not yet endowed with much
muscular power, meat, which requires
considerable trituration before it can be
made into chyme, is an unfit aliment.
But this objection does not tell against
animal food from which the fibrous part
has been extracted; nor does it apply
when, after the lapse of two or three
years, considerable muscular vigour has
been acquired. And while the evidence
in support of this dogma, partially valid
in the case of very young children, is not
valid in the case of older children, who
are, nevertheless, ordinarily treated in
conformity with it, the adverse evidence
is abundant and conclusive. The verdict
of science is exactly opposite to the
popular opinion.
We have put the
question to two of our leading physicians,
and to several of the most distinguished
physiologists, and they uniformly agree
in the conclusion, that children should
have a diet not less nutritive, but, if
anything, more nutritive than that of
adults.
I
The grounds for this conclusion are j
obvious, and the reasoning simple. It |
needs but to compare the vital processes
of a man with those of a boy, to see
that the demand for sustenance is rela
tively greater in the boy than in the
man. What are the ends for which a
man requires food ? Each day his body
undergoes more or less wear—wear
through muscular exertion, wear of the
nervous system through mental actions,
wear of the viscera in carrying on the
functions of life; and the tissue thuswasted has to be renewed. Each day,
too, by radiation, his body loses a large
amount of heat; and as, for the continu
ance of the vital actions, the temperature
of the body must be maintained, this loss
has to be compensated by a constant
production of heat: to which end certain
constituents of the body are ever under
going oxidation. To make up for the
day’s waste, and to supply fuel for the
day’s expenditure of heat, are, then, the
sole purposes for which the adult requires
food. Consider now, the case of the
boy. He, too, wastes the substance of
his body by action; and it needs but to
note his restless activity to see that, in
proportion to his bulk, he probably
wastes as much as a man. He, too,
loses heat by radiation; and, as his
body exposes a greater surface in pro
portion to its mass than does that of
a man, and therefore loses heat more
rapidly, the quantity of heat-food he
requires is, bulk for bulk, greater than
that required by a man. So that even
had the boy no other vital processes to
carry on than the man has, he would
need, relatively to his size, a somewhat
larger supply of nutriment. But, besides
repairing his body and maintaining its
heat, the boy has to make new tissue—
to grow. After waste and thermal loss
have been provided for, such surplus of
nutriment as remains, goes to the further
building up of the frame; and only in
�PHYSICAL EDUCATION
virtue of this surplus is normal growth
possible j the growth that sometimes
takes place in the absence of it, causing
a manifest prostration consequent upon
defective repair. It is true that because
of a certain mechanical law which can
not be here explained, a small organism
has an advantage over a large one in
the ratio between the sustaining and
destroying forces—an advantage, indeed,
to which the very possibility of growth
is owing.
But this admission only
makes it the more obvious that though
much adverse treatment may be borne
without this excess of vitality being quite
out-balanced; yet any adverse treatment,
by diminishing it, must diminish the
size or structural perfection reached.
How peremptory is the demand of the
unfolding organism for materials, is seen
alike in that “ school-boy hunger,” which
after-life rarely parallels in intensity, and
in the comparatively quick return of
appetite. And if there needs further
evidence of this extra necessity for
nutriment, we have it in the fact that,
during the famines following shipwrecks
and other disasters, the children are the
first to die.
This relatively greater need for nutri
ment being admitted, as it must be, the
question that remains is—shall we meet
it by giving an excessive quantity of what
may be called dilute food, or a more
moderate quantity of concentrated food ?
The nutriment obtainable from a given
weight of meat is obtainable only from
a larger weight of bread, or from a still
larger weight of potatoes, and so on.
To fulfil the requirement, the quantity
must be increased as the nutritiveness
is diminished. Shall we, then, respond
to the extra wants of the growing child
by giving an adequate quantity of food
as good as that of adults ? Or, regardless
of the fact that its stomach has to dispose
99
of a relatively larger quantity even of
this good food, shall we further tax it
By giving an inferior food in still greater
quantity?
The answer is tolerably obvious. The
more the labour of digestion is econo
mised, the more energy is left for the
purpose of growth and action. The
functions of the stomach and intestines
cannot be performed without a large
supply of blood and nervous power ; and
in the comparative lassitude that follows
a hearty meal, every adult has proof that
this supply of blood and nervous power
is at the expense of the system at large.
If the requisite nutriment is obtained
from a great quantity of innutritious
food, more work is entailed on the
viscera than when it is obtained from
a moderate quantity of nutritous food.
This extra work is so much loss—a
loss which in children shows itself
either in diminished energy, or in smaller
growth, or in both. The inference is,
then, that they should have a diet which
combines, as much as possible, nutritive
ness and digestibility.
It is doubtless true that boys and girls
may be reared upon an exclusively,
or almost exclusively, vegetable diet.
Among the upper classes are to be
found children to whom comparatively
little meat is given; and who, neverthe
less, grow and appear in good health.
Animal food is scarcely tasted by the
offspring of labouring people, and yet
they reach a healthy maturity.
But
these seemingly adverse facts have by no
means the weight commonly supposed.
In the first place, it does not follow that
those who in early years flourish on
bread and potatoes, will eventually reach
a fine development; and a comparison
between the agricultural labourers and
the gentry, in England, or between the
middle and lower classes in France,
�•TOO
EDUCATION
is by no means in favour of vegetable locomotive energy and considerable
feeders. In the second place, the ques vivacity.
If, again, we contrast the
tion is not simply a question of bulk, but stolid inactivity of the graminivorous
also a question of quality. A soft, flabby sheep with the liveliness of the dog,
flesh makes as good a show as a firm subsisting on flesh or farinaceous matters,
one; but though to the careless eye, a
or a mixture of the two, we see a differ
child of full, flaccid tissue may appear
ence similar in kind, but still greater in
the equal of one whose fibres are well degree. And after walking through the
toned, a trial of strength will prove the Zoological Gardens, and noting the rest
difference. Obesity in adults is often a lessness with which the carnivorous
sign of feebleness. Men lose weight in animals pace up and down their cages, it
training. Hence the appearance of these
needs but to remember that none of the
low-fed children is far from conclusive. herbivorous animals habitually display
In the third place, besides size we have
this superfluous energy, to see how clear
to consider energy. Between children of is the relation between concentration of
the meat-eating classes and those of the
food and degree of activity.
bread-and-potato-eating classes, there is
That these differences are not directly
a marked contrast in this respect. Both
consequent on differences of constitu
in mental and physical vivacity the
tion, as some may argue; but are directly
peasant-boy is greatly inferior to the consequent on differences in the food
son of a gentleman.
which the creatures are constituted to
If we compare different kinds of subsist on; is proved by the fact, that
animals, or different races of men, or
they are observable between different
the same animals or men when differently divisions of the same species.
The
fed, we find still more distinct proof that varieties of the horse furnish an illustra
the degree of energy essentially depends on tion. Compare the big-bellied, inactive,
the nutritiveness of the food.
spiritless cart-horse with a racer or
In a cow, subsisting on so innutritive hunter, small in the flanks and full of
a food as grass, we see that the immense energy; and then call to mind how
quantity required necessitates an enor much less nutritive is the diet of the one
mous digestive system ; that the limbs,
than that of the other. Or take the
small in comparison with the body, are case of mankind. Australians, Bushmen,
burdened by its weight; that in carrying '
and others of the lowest savages who
about this heavy body and digesting this live on roots and berries, varied by
excessive quantity of food, much force is . larvae of insects and the like meagre
expended; and that, having but little i fare, are comparatively puny in stature,
remaining, the creature is sluggish.
have large abdomens, soft and unde
Compare with the cow a horse — an !
veloped muscles, and are quite unable to
animal of nearly allied structure, but i cope with Europeans, either in a struggle
habituated to a more concentrated diet, j. or in prolonged exertion. Count up the
Here the body, and more especially its I wild races who are well grown, strong
abdominal region, bears a smaller ratio i and active, as the Kaffirs, North-Amerito the limbs; the powers are not taxed j can Indians, and Patagonians, and you
by the support of such massive viscera ' find them large consumers of flesh. The
nor the digestion of so bulky a food; ' ill-fed Hindoo goes down before the
and, as a consequence, there is greater ' Englishman fed on more nutritive food,
�PHYSICAL EDUCATION
to whom he is as inferior in mental as
in physical energy. And generally, we
think, the history of the world shows
that the well-fed races have been the
energetic and dominant races.
Still stronger, however, becomes the
argument, when we find that the same
individual animal is capable of more or
less exertion according as its food is
more or less nutritious. This has been
demonstrated in the case of the horse.
Though flesh may be gained by a grazing
horse, strength is lost; as putting him to
hard work proves. “The consequence
of turning horses out to grass is relaxa
tion of the muscular system.” “Grass
is a very good preparation for a bullock
for Smithfield market, but a very bad
one for a hunter.” It was well known
of old that, after passing the summer in
the fields, hunters required some months
of stable-feeding before becoming able
to follow the hounds; and that they
did not get into good condition till the
beginning of the next spring. And the
modern practice is that insisted on by
Mr. Apperley—“Never to give a hunter
what is called ‘ a summer’s run at grass,’
and, except under particular and very
favourable circumstances, never to turn
him out at all.” That is to say, never
give him poor food: great energy and
endurance are to be obtained only by
the continued use of nutritive food. So
true is this that, as proved by Mr.
Apperley, prolonged high-feeding enables
a middling horse to equal, in his per
formances, a first-rate horse fed in the
ordinary way. To which various evidences
add the familiar fact that, when a horse
is required to do double duty, it is the
practice to give him beans—a food con
taining a larger proportion of nitrogenous,
or flesh-making material, than his habitual
Oats.
Once more, in the case of individual
IOI
men the truth has been illustrated with
equal, or still greater, clearness. We do
not refer to men in training for feats
of strength, whose regimen, however,
thoroughly conforms to the doctrine.
We refer to the experience of railway
contractors and their labourers. It has
been for years a well-established fact
that an English navvy, eating largely of
flesh, is far more efficient than a Conti
nental navvy living on farinaceous food ;
so much more efficient, that English
contractors for Continental railways found
it pay to take their labourers with them.
That difference of diet and not difference
of race caused this superiority, has been
of late distinctly shown. For it has
turned out, that when the Continental
navvies live in the same style as their
English competitors, they presently rise,
more or less nearly, to a par with them
in efficiency. And to this fact, let us here
add the converse one, to which we can
give personal testimony based upon six
months’ experience of vegetarianism, that
abstinence from meat entails diminished
energy of both body and mind.
Do not these various evidences endorse
our argument respecting the feeding of
children ? Do they not imply that, even
supposing the same stature and bulk to
be attained on an innutritive as on a
nutritive diet, the quantity of tissue is
greatly inferior ? Do they not establish
the position that, where energy as well
as growth has to be maintained, it can
only be done by high feeding ? Do they
not confirm the a priori conclusion that,
though a child of whom little is expected
in the way of bodily or mental activity,
may thrive tolerably well on farinaceous
substances, a child who is daily required,
not only to form the due amount of new
tissue, but to supply the waste consequent
on great muscular action, and the further
waste consequent on hard exercise of
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EDUCATION
brain, must live on substances containing
a larger ratio of nutritive matter ? And
is it not an obvious corollary, that denial
of this better food will be at the expense
either of growth, or of bodily activity, or
of mental activity; as constitution and
circumstances determine? We believe
no logical intellect will question it. To
think otherwise is to entertain in a
disguised form the old fallacy of the
perpetual-motion schemers—that it is
possible to get power out of nothing.
Before leaving the question of food,
■a few words must be said on another
requisite—variety. In this respect the
dietary of the young is very faulty. If
not, like our soldiers, condemned to
“ twenty years of boiled beef,” our
children have mostly to bear a monotony
which, though less extreme and less
lasting, is quite as clearly at variance
with the laws of health. At dinner, it is
true, they usually have food that is more
or less mixed, and that is changed day
by day. But week after week, month
after month, year after year, comes the
same breakfast of bread-and-milk, or, it
may be, oatmeal-porridge. And with
like persistence the day is closed, perhaps
with a second edition of the bread-andmilk, perhaps with tea and bread-andbutter.
This practice is opposed to the dictates
of physiology. The satiety produced by
an oft-repeated dish, and the gratification
caused by one long a stranger to the
palate, are not meaningless, as people
carelessly assume; but they are the
incentives to a wholesome diversity of
diet. It is a fact, established by numerous
experiments, that there is scarcely any
one food, however good, which supplies
in due proportions or right forms all the
elements required for carrying on the
vital processes in a normal manner •
whence it follows that frequent change
of food is desirable to balance the
supplies of all the elements. It is a
further fact, known to physiologists, that
the enjoyment given by a much-liked
food is a nervous stimulus, which, by
increasing the action of the heart and
so propelling the blood with increased
vigour, aids in the subsequent digestion.
And these truths are in harmony with
the maxims of modern cattle-feeding,
which dictate a rotation of diet.
Not only, however, is periodic change
of food very desirable; but, for the
same reasons, it is very desirable that a
mixture of food should be taken at each
meal. The better balance of ingredients,
and the greater nervous stimulation, are
advantages which hold here as before.
If facts are asked for, we may name as
one, the comparative ease with which
the stomach disposes of a French dinner,
enormous in quantity but extremely varied
in materials. Few will contend that an
equal weight of one kind of food, how
ever well cooked, could be digested with
as much facility. If any desire further
facts, they may find them in every
modern book on the management of
animals. Animals thrive best when each
meal is made up of several things. The
experiments of Goss and Stark “afford
the most decisive proof of the advantage,
or rather the necessity, of a mixture of
substances, in order to produce the com
pound which is the best adapted for the
action of the stomach.”1
Should any object, as probably many
will, that a rotating dietary for children,
and one which also requires a mixture
of food at each meal, would entail too
much trouble; we reply, that no trouble
is thought too great which conduces to
the mental development of children, and
that for their future welfare, good bodily
1 Cyclopedia of Anatomy and Physiology.
�PHYSICAL EDUCATION
103
There is a current theory, vaguely enter
tained if not put into a definite formula,
that the sensations are to be disregarded.
They do not exist for our guidance, but
to mislead us, seems to be the prevalent
belief reduced to its naked form. It is
a grave error: we are much more bene
ficently constituted. It is not obedience
to the sensations, but disobedience to
them, which is the habitual cause of
bodily evils. It is not the eating when
hungry, but the eating in the absence of
hunger, which is bad. It is not drinking
when thirsty, but continuing to drink
when thirst has ceased, that is the vice.
Harm does not result from breathing
that fresh air which every healthy person
enjoys ; but from breathing foul air, spite
of the-protest of the lungs. Harm does
not result from taking that active exercise
which, as every child shows us, Nature
strongly prompts ; but from a persistent
disregard of Nature’s promptings. Not
that mental activity which is spontaneous
and enjoyable does the mischief; but
that which is preserved in after a hot
or aching head commands desistance.
Not that bodily exertion which is pleasant
or indifferent, does injury; but that which
is continued when exhaustion forbids.
It is true that, in those who have long
led unhealthy lives, the sensations are
not trustworthy guides. People who
have for years been almost constantly
in-doors, who have exercised their brains
very much and their bodies scarcely at
all, who in eating have obeyed their
clocks without consulting their stomachs,
may very likely be misled by their vitiated
feelings. But their abnormal state is
itself the result of transgressing their
With clothing as with food, the usual feelings. Had they from childhood
tendency is towards an improper scanti never disobeyed what we may term the
ness. Here, too, asceticism peeps out. physical conscience, it would not have
been seared, but would have remained
a faithful monitor.
1 Morton’s Cyclopedia of Agriculture.
development is of still higher importance.
Moreover, it seems alike sad and strange
that a trouble which is cheerfully taken
in the fattening of pigs, should be thought
too great in the rearing of children.
One more paragraph, with the view of
warning those who may propose to adopt
the regimen indicated. The change
must not be made suddenly ; for con
tinued low-feeding so enfeebles the
system, as to disable it from at once
dealing with a high diet. Deficient
nutrition is itself a cause of dyspepsia.
This is true even of animals. “When
calves are fed with skimmed milk, or
whey, or other poor food, they are liable
to indigestion.”1 Hence, therefore, where
the energies are low, the transition to a
generous diet must be gradual: each
increment of strength gained, justifying
a fresh addition of nutriment. Further,
it should be borne in mind that the con
centration of nutriment may be carried
too far. A bulk sufficient to fill the
stomach is one requisite of a proper
meal; and this requisite negatives a diet
deficient in those matters which give
adequate mass. Though the size of the
digestive organs is less in the well-fed
civilised races than in the ill-fed savage
ones ; and though their size may even
tually diminish still further; yet, for the
time being, the bulk of the ingesta must
be determined by the existing capacity.
But, paying due regard to these two
qualifications, our conclusions are—that
the food of children should be highly
nutritive; that it should be varied at
each meal and at successive meals ; and
that it should be abundant.
�104
EDUCATION
Among the sensations serving for our
guidance are those of heat and cold:
and a clothing for children which does
not carefully consult these sensations, is
to be condemned. The common notion
about “ hardening ” is a grievous delusion.
Not a few children are “hardened” out
of the world ; and those who survive,
permanently suffer either in growth or
constitution. “Their delicate appear
ance furnishes ample indication of the
mischief thus produced, and their
frequent attacks of illness might prove
a warning even to unreflecting parents,”
says Dr. Combe. The reasoning on
which this hardening theory rests is
extremely superficial. Wealthy parents,
seeing little peasant boys and girls
playing about in the open-air only half
clothed, and joining with this fact the
general healthiness of labouring people,
draw the unwarrantable conclusion that
the healthiness is the result of the
exposure, and resolve to keep their
own offspring scantily covered! It is
forgotten that these urchins who gambol
upon village-greens are in many respects
favourably circumstanced — that their
lives are spent in almost perpetual play;
that they are all day breathing fresh air;
and that their systems are not disturbed
by over-taxed brains. For aught that
appears to the contrary, their good health
may be maintained, not in consequence
of, but in spite of, their deficient clothing.
This alternative conclusion we believe to
be the true one; and that an inevitable
detriment results from the loss of animal
heat to which they are subject.
For when, the constitution being
sound enough to bear it, the exposure
does produce hardness, it does so at
the expense of growth. This truth is
displayed alike in animals and in man.
Shetland ponies bear greater inclemencies
than the horses of the south, but are
dwarfed. Highland sheep and cattle,
living in a colder climate, are stunted
in comparison with English breeds. In
both the arctic and antarctic regions
the human race falls much below its
ordinary height: the Laplander and
Esquimaux are very short; and the
Terra del Fuegians, who go naked in a
wintry land, are described by Darwin as
so stunted and hideous, that “ one can
hardly make one’s-self believe they are
fellow-creatures. ”
Science explains this dwarfishness pro
duced by great abstraction of heat;
showing that, food and other things
being equal, it unavoidably results. For
as before pointed out, to make up for
that cooling by radiation which the body
is ever undergoing, there must be a
constant oxidation of certain matters
forming part of the food. And in pro
portion as the thermal loss is great, must
the quantity of these matters required
for oxidation be great. But the power
of the digestive organs is limited. Con
sequently, when they have to prepare a
large quantity of this material needful
for maintaining the temperature, they
can prepare but a small quantity of
the material which goes to build up the
frame. Excessive expenditure for fuel
entails diminished means for other
purposes. Wherefore there necessarily
results a body small in size, or inferior
in texture, or both.
Hence the great importance of clothing.
As Liebig says :—“ Our clothing is, in
reference to the temperature of the body,
merely an equivalent for a certain amount
of food.” By diminishing the loss of
heat, it diminishes the amount of fuel
needful for maintaining the heat; and
when the stomach has less to do in
preparing fuel, it can do more in
preparing other materials. This deduc
tion is confirmed by the experience
�PHYSICAL EDUCATION
io5
of those who manage animals. Cold acid given off varies with tolerable
can be borne by animals only at an accuracy as the quantity of heat pro
expense of fat, or muscle, or growth, as duced. And thus we see that in children
the case may be. “If fattening cattle are the system, even when not placed at a
exposed to a low temperature, either disadvantage, is called upon to provide
their progress must be retarded or a nearly double the proportion of material
great additional expenditure of food for generating heat.
See, then, the extreme folly of clothing
incurred.”1 Mr. Apperley insists strongly
that, to bring hunters into good con the young scantily. What father, fulldition, it is necessary that the stable grown though he is, losing heat less
should be kept warm.
And among rapidly as he does, and having no
those who rear racers, it is an established physiological necessity but to supply the
waste of each day—what father, we ask,
doctrine that exposure is to be avoided.
The scientific truth thus illustrated by would think it salutary to go about with
ethnology, and recognised by agricul bare legs, bare arms, and bare neck?
turists and sportsmen, applies with Yet this tax on the system, from which
double force to children. In proportion he would shrink, he inflicts on his little
to their smallness and the rapidity of ones, who are so much less able to bear
their growth is the injury from cold it! or, if he does not inflict it, sees
great. In France, new-born infants often it inflicted without protest. Let him
die in winter from being carried to the remember that every ounce of nutriment
office of the maire for registration. needlessly expended for the maintenance
“M. Quetelet has pointed out, that in of temperature, is so much deducted from
Belgium two infants die in January for the nutriment going to build up the
one that dies in July.” And in Russia frame; and that even when colds, con
the infant mortality is something enor gestions, or other consequent disorders
mous. Even when near maturity, the are escaped, diminished growth or less
undeveloped frame is comparatively perfect structure is inevitable.
“The rule is, therefore, not to dress
unable to bear exposure : as witness the
in an invariable way in all cases, but to
quickness with which young soldiers
succumb in a trying campaign. The put on clothing in kind and quantity
rationale is obvious. We have already sufficient in the individual case to protect
adverted to the fact that, in consequence the body effectually from an abiding
of the varying relation between surface sensation of cold, however slight! This
and bulk, a child loses a relatively larger rule, the importance cf which Dr. Combe
amount of heat than an adult; and here indicates by the italics, is one in which
we must point out that the disadvantage men of science and practitioners agree.
under which the child thus labours is We have met with none competent to
very great. Lehmann says:—“If the form a judgment on the matter, who do
carbonic acid excreted by children or not strongly condemn the exposure of
young animals is calculated for an equal children’s limbs. If there is one point
bodily weight, it results that children above others in which “pestilent custom”
produce nearly twice as much acid as should be ignored, it is this.
Lamentable, indeed, is it to see mothers
adults.” Now the quantity of carbonic
seriously damaging the constitutions of
their children out of compliance with an
1 Morton’s Cyclopedia of Agriculture.
�EDUCATION
irrational fashion. It is bad enough that
they should themselves conform to every
folly which our Gallic neighbours please
to initiate ; but that they should clothe
their children in any mountebank dress
which Le petit Courrier des Dames indi
cates, regardless of its insufficiency and
unfitness, is monstrous.
Discomfort,
more or less great, is inflicted; frequent
disorders are entailed; growth is checked
or stamina undermined; premature death
not uncommonly caused; and all because
it is thought needful to make frocks of a
size and material dictated by French
caprice. Not only is it that for the sake
of conformity, mothers thus punish and
injure their little ones by scantiness of
covering; but it is that from an allied
motive they impose a style of dress which
forbids healthful activity. To please the
eye, colours and fabrics are chosen totally
unfit to bear that rough usage which
unrestrained play involves : and then to
prevent damage the unrestrained play is
interdicted.
“ Get up this moment:
you will soil your clean frock,” is the
mandate issued to some urchin creeping
about on the floor. “ Come back : you
will dirty your stockings,” calls out the
governess to one of her charges, who has
left the footpath to scramble up a bank.
Thus is the evil doubled. That they
may come up to their mamma’s standard
of prettiness, and be admired by her
visitors, children must have habiliments
deficient in quantity and unfit in texture;
and that these easily-damaged habiliments
may be kept clean and uninjured, the
restless activity so natural and needful
for the young, is restrained. The exercise
which becomes doubly requisite when
the clothing is insufficient, is cut short,
lest it should deface the clothing. Would
that the terrible cruelty of this system
could be seen by those who maintain it!
We do not hesitate to say that, through
enfeebled health, defective energies, and
consequent non-success in life, thousands
are annually doomed to unhappiness by
this unscrupulous regard for appearances :
even when they are not, by early death,
literally sacrificed to the Moloch of
maternal vanity. We are reluctant to
counsel strong measures, but really the
evils are so great as to justify, or even to
demand, a peremptory interference on
the part of fathers.
Our conclusions are, then—that, while
the clothing of children should never be
in such excess as to create oppressive
warmth, it should always be sufficient to
prevent any general feeling of cold;
*
that instead of the flimsy cotton, linen,
or mixed fabrics commonly used, it
should be made of some good non
conductor, such as coarse woollen cloth ;
that it should be so strong as to receive
little damage from the hard wear and
tear which childish sports will give it;
and that its colours should be such as
will not soon suffer from use and expo
sure.
To the importance of bodily exercise
most people are in some degree awake.
Perhaps less needs saying on this requisite
of physical education than on most
others : at any rate, in so far as boys are
concerned. Public schools and private
schools alike furnish tolerably adequate
playgrounds; and there is usually a fair
1 It is needful to remark that children whose
legs and arms have been from the beginning
habitually without covering, cease to be conscious
that the exposed surfaces are cold ; just as by use
we have all ceased to be conscious that our faces
are cold, even when out of doors. But though
in such children the sensations no longer protest,
it does not follow that the system escapes injury;
any more than it follows that the Fuegian is
undamaged by exposure, because he bears with
indifference the melting of the falling snow on
his naked body.
�PHYSICAL EDUCATION
share of time for out-door games, and a
recognition of them as needful. In this,
if in no other direction, it seems admitted
that the promptings of boyish instinct
may advantageously be followed; and,
indeed, in the modern practice of breaking
the prolonged morning’s and afternoon’s
lessons by a few minutes’ open-air recrea
tion, we see an increasing tendency to
conform school-regulations to the bodily
sensations of the pupils. Here, then,
little need be said in the way of expostu
lation or suggestion.
But we have been obliged to qualify
this admission by inserting the clause
“in so far as boys are concerned.” Un
fortunately, the fact is quite otherwise
with girls. It chances, somewhat
strangely, that we have daily opportunity
of drawing a comparison. We have
both a boys’ school and a girls’ school
within view; and the contrast between
them is remarkable. In the one case,
nearly the whole of a large garden is
turned into an open, gravelled space,
affording ample scope for games, and
supplied with poles and horizontal bars
for gymnastic exercises. Every day
before breakfast, again towards eleven
o’clock, again at mid-day, again in the
afternoon, and once more after school is
over, the neighbourhood is awakened by
a chorus of shouts and laughter as the
boys rush out to play; and for as long
as they remain, both eyes and ears give
proof that they are absorbed in that
enjoyable activity which makes the pulse
bound and ensures the healthful activity
of every organ. How unlike is the
picture offered by the “ Establishment
for Young Ladies”! Until the fact was
pointed out, we actually did not know
that we had a girls’ school as close to us
as the school for boys. The garden,
equally large with the other, affords no
sign whatever of any provision for juvenile
107
recreation; but is entirely laid out with
prim grass-plots, gravel-walks, shrubs, and
flowers, after the usual suburban style.
During five months we ha.ve not once
had our attention drawn to the premises
by a shout or a laugh. Occasionally
girls may be observed sauntering along
the paths with their lesson-books in their
hands, or else walking arm-in-arm. Once,
indeed, we saw one chase another round
the garden; but, with this exception,
nothing like vigorous exertion has been
visible.
Why this astonishing difference? Is
it that the constitution of a girl differs
so entirely from that of a boy as not to
need these active exercises ? Is it that
a girl has none of the promptings to
vociferous play by which boys are
impelled ? Or is it that, while in boys
these promptings are to be regarded as
stimuli to a bodily activity without which
there cannot be adequate development,
to their sisters, Nature has given them
for no purpose whatever—unless it be
for the vexation of school-mistresses ?
Perhaps, however, we mistake the aim
of those who train the gentler sex. We
have a vague suspicion that to produce
a robust physique is thought undesirable ;
that rude health and abundant vigour
are considered somewhat plebeian; that
a certain delicacy, a strength not com
petent to more than a mile or two’s walk,
an appetite fastidious and easily satisfied,
joined with that timidity which commonly
accompanies feebleness, are held more
lady-like. We do not expect that any
would distinctly avow this; but we fancy
the governess-mind is haunted by an
ideal young lady bearing not a little
resemblance to this type. If so, it must
be admitted that the established system
is admirably calculated to realise this
ideal. But to suppose that such is the
ideal of the opposite sex is a profound
�108
EDUCATION
mistake. That men are not commonly
drawn towards masculine women, is
doubtless true.
That such relative
weakness as asks the protection of
superior strength, is an element of
attraction, we quite admit. But the
difference thus responded to by the
feelings of men, is the natural, preestablished difference, which will assert
itself without artificial appliances. And
when, by artificial appliances, the degree
of this difference is increased, it becomes
an element of repulsion rather than of
attraction.
“Then girls should be allowed to run
wild—to become as rude as boys, and
grow up into romps and hoydens !”
exclaims some defender of the pro
prieties. This, we presume, is the ever
present dread of school-mistresses. It
appears, on inquiry, that at “ Establish
ments for Young Ladies ” noisy play like
that daily indulged in by boys, is a
punishable offence; and we infer that it
is forbidden, lest unlady-like habits should
be formed. The fear is quite groundless,
however. For if the sportive activity
allowed to boys does not prevent them
from growing up into gentlemen; why
should a like sportive activity prevent
girls from growing up into ladies ?
Rough as may have been their play
ground frolics, youths who have left
school do not indulge in leap-frog in the
street, or marbles in the drawing-room.
Abandoning their jackets, they abandon
at the same time boyish games; and
display an anxiety—often a ludicrous
anxiety—to avoid whatever is not manly.
If now, on arriving at the due age, this
feeling of masculine dignity puts so
efficient a restraint on the sports of boy
hood, will not the feeling of feminine
modesty, gradually strengthening as
maturity is approached, put an efficient
restraint on the like snorts of girlhood ?
Have not women even a greater regard
for appearances than men ? and will there
not consequently arise in them even a
stronger check to whatever is rough or
boisterous ? How absurd is the supposi
tion that the womanly instincts would
not assert themselves but for the rigorous
discipline of school-mistresses!
In this, as in other cases, to remedy
the evils of one artificiality, another
artificiality has been introduced. The
natural, spontaneous exercise having
been forbidden, and the bad conse
quences of no exercise having become
conspicuous, there has been adopted a
system of factitious exercise—gymnastics.
That this is better than nothing we
admit; but that it is an adequate sub
stitute for play we deny. The defects
are both positive and negative. In the
first place, these formal, muscular
motions, necessarily less varied than
those accompanying juvenile sports, do
not secure so equable a distribution of
action to all parts of the body; whence
it results that the exertion, falling on
special parts, produces fatigue sooner
than it would else have done: to which,
in passing, let us add, that if constantly
repeated, this exertion of special parts
leads to a disproportionate development.
Again, the quantity of exercise thus taken
will be deficient, not only in consequence
of uneven distribution; but there will be
a further deficiency in consequence of
lack of interest. Even when not made
repulsive, as they sometimes are, by
assuming the shape of appointed lessons,
these monotonous movements are sure
to become wearisome from the absence
of amusement. Competition, it is true,
serves as a stimulus; but it is not a
lasting stimulus, like that enjoyment
which accompanies varied play. The
weightiest objection, however, still
remains.
Besides being inferior in
�PHYSICAL EDUCATION
respect of the quantity of muscular
exertion which they secure, gymnastics
are still more inferior in respect of the
quality., This comparative want of
enjoyment which we have named as a
cause of early desistance from artificial
exercises, is also a cause of inferiority
in the effects they produce on the system.
The common assumption that, so long
as the amount of bodily action is the
same, it matters not whether it be
pleasurable or otherwise, is a grave
mistake. An agreeable mental excite
ment has a highly invigorating influence.
See the effect produced upon an invalid
by good news, or by the visit of an old
friend. Mark how careful medical men
are to recommend lively society to
debilitated patients. Remember how
beneficial to health is the gratification
produced by change of scene. The
truth is that happiness is the most
powerful of tonics. By accelerating the
circulation of the blood, it facilitates the
performance of every function; and so
tends alike to increase health when it
exists, and to restore it when it has been
lost. Hence the intrinsic superiority of
play to gymnastics. The extreme interest
felt by children in their games, and the
riotous glee with which they carry on
their rougher frolics, are of as much
importance as the accompanying exertion.
And as not supplying these mental
stimuli, gymnastics must be radically
defective.
Granting then, as we do, that formal
exercises of the limbs are better than
nothing—granting, further, that they may
be used with advantage as supplementary
aids; we yet contend that they can never
serve in place of the exercises prompted
by Nature. For girls, as well as boys,
the sportive activities to which the
instincts impel, are essential to bodily
welfare. Whoever forbids them, forbids
109
the divinely-appointed means to physical
development.
A topic still remains—one perhaps
more urgently demanding consideration
than any of the foregoing. It is asserted
by not a few, that among the educated
classes the younger adults and those
who are verging on maturity, are neither
so well grown nor so strong as their
seniors. On first hearing this assertion,
we were inclined to class it as one of
the many manifestations of the old
tendency to exalt the past at the expense
of the present. Calling to mind the
facts that, as measured by ancient
armour, modern men are proved to be
larger than ancient men; and that the
tables of mortality show no diminution,
but rather an increase, in the duration
of life; we paid little attention to what
seemed a groundless belief. Detailed
observation, however, has shaken our
opinion. Omitting from the comparison
the labouring classes, we have noticed a
majority of cases in which the children
do not reach the stature of their parents;
and, in massiveness, making due allow
ance for difference of age, there seems a
like inferiority. Medical men say that
now-a-days people cannot bear nearly so
much depletion as in times gone by.
Premature baldness is far more common
than it used to be. And an early decay
of teeth occurs in the rising generation
with startling frequency.
In general
vigour the contrast appears equally strik
ing. Men of past generations, living
riotously as they did, could bear more
than men of the present generation, who
live soberly, can bear. Though they
drank hard, kept irregular hours, were
regardless of fresh air, and thought little
of cleanliness, our recent ancestors were
capable of prolonged application without
injury, even to a ripe old age: witness
�I IO
EDUCATION
the annals of the bench and the bar.
Yet we who think much about our bodily
welfare; who eat with moderation, and
do not drink to excess; who attend to
ventilation, and use frequent ablutions
who make annual excursions, and have
the benefit of greater medical knowledge;
—we are continually breaking down
under our work. Paying considerable
attention to the laws of health, we seem
to be weaker than our grandfathers, who,
in many respects, defied the laws of
health. And, judging from the appear
ance and frequent ailments of the rising
generation, they are likely to be even
less robust than ourselves.
What is the meaning of this ? Is it
that past over-feeding, alike of adults and
children, was less injurious than the
under-feeding to which we have adverted
as now so general? Is it that the
deficient clothing which this delusive
hardening-theory has encouraged, is to
blame ? Is it that the greater or less
discouragement of juvenile sports, in
deference to a false refinement, is the
cause ? From our reasonings it may be
inferred that each of these has probably
had a share in producing the evil.1 But
there has been yet another detrimental
influence at work, perhaps more potent
1 We are not certain that the propagation of
subdued forms of constitutional disease through
the agency of vaccination is not a part-cause.
Sundry facts in pathology suggest the inference,
that when the system of a vaccinated child is
excreting the vaccine virus by means of pustules,
it will tend also to excrete through such pustules
other morbific matters; especially if these
morbific matters are of a kind ordinarily got rid
of by the skin, as are some of the worst of
them. Hence it is very possible—probable even
-—that a child with a constitutional taint, too
slight to show itself in visible disease, may,
through the medium of vitiated vaccine lymph
taken from it, convey a like constitutional taint
to other children, and these to others.
than any of the others : we mean—excess
of mental application.
On old and young, the pressure of
modern life puts a still-increasing strain.
In all businesses and professions, intenser
competition taxes the energies and
abilities of every adult; and to fit the
young to hold their places under this
intenser competition, they are subject to
severer discipline than heretofore. The
damage is thus doubled. Fathers, who
find themselves run hard by their multi
plying competitors, and, while labouring
under this disadvantage, have to maintain
a more expensive style of living, are all
the year round obliged to work early and
late, taking little exercise and getting but
short holidays. The constitutions shaken
by this continued over-application, they
bequeath to their children. And then
these comparatively feeble children, pre
disposed to break down even under
ordinary strains on their energies, are
required to go through a curriculum
much more extended than that prescribed
for the unenfeebled children of past
generations.
The disastrous consequences that
might be anticipated, are everywhere
visible. Go where you will, and before
long there come under your notice cases
of children or youths, of either sex,
more or less injured by undue study.
Here, to recover from a state of debility
thus produced, a year’s rustication has
been found necessary. There you find
a chronic congestion of the brain, that
has already lasted many months, and
threatens to last much longer. Now you
hear of a fever that resulted from the
over-excitement in some way brought on
at school. And again, the instance is
that of a youth who has already had
once to desist from his studies, and who,
since his return to them, is frequently
taken out of his class in a fainting fit.
�PHYSICAL EDUCATION
11 î
We state facts—facts not sought for, but | is unobtrusive and slowly accumulating
which have been thrust on our observa —cases where there is frequent derange
ment of the functions, attributed to this
tion during the last two years ; and that,
too, within a very limited range. Nor or that special cause, or to constitutional
have we by any means exhausted the delicacy; cases where there is retarda
tion and premature arrest of bodily
list. Quite recently we had the oppor
tunity of marking how the evil becomes growth ; cases where a latent tendency
hereditary : the case being that of a lady to consumption is brought out and
of robust parentage, whose system was established; cases where a predisposition
so injured by the régime of a Scotch is given to that now common cerebral
boarding-school, where she was under disorder brought on by the labour oi
adult life. How commonly health is
fed and over-worked, that she invariably
suffers from vertigo on rising in the thus undermined, will be clear to all
morning ; and whose children, inheriting who, after noting the frequent ailments
this enfeebled brain, are several of them of hard-worked professional and mercan
unable to bear even a moderate amount tile men, will reflect on the much worse
of study without headache or giddiness. effects which undue application must
produce on the undeveloped systems of
At the present time we have daily under
children. The young can bear neither
our eyes a young lady whose system
so much hardship, nor so much physical
has been damaged for life by the college
exertion, nor so much mental exertion,
course through which she has passed.
as the full grown. Judge then, if the
Taxed as she was to such an extent that
she had no energy left for exercise, she is, full grown manifestly suffer from the
excessive mental exertion required of
now that she has finished her education,
a constant complainant. Appetite small them, how great must be the damage
which a mental exertion, often equally
and very capricious, mostly refusing meat;
extremities perpetually cold, even when excessive, inflicts on the young 1
Indeed, when we examine the merciless
the weather is warm ; a feebleness which
forbids anything but the slowest walking, school drill frequently enforced, the
and that only for a short time ; palpita wonder is, not that it does extreme
injury, but that it can be borne at all.
tion on going upstairs ; greatly impaired
vision—these, joined with checked Take the instance given by Sir John
Forbes, from personal knowledge; and
growth and lax tissue, are among the
which he asserts, after much inquiry, to
results entailed. And to her case we
may add that of her friend and fellow be an average sample of the middle
class girls’-school system throughout
student ; who is similarly weak ; who is
England. Omitting detailed divisions
liable to faint even under the excitement
of time, we quote the summary of the
of a quiet party of friends ; and who has
at length been obliged by her medical twenty-four hours.
hours
attendant to desist from study entirely.
........................................
•••
9
If injuries so conspicuous are thus In bed
(the younger io hours)
frequent, how very general must be the
In school, at their studies and tasks
...
9
smaller and inconspicuous injuries ! To In school, or in the house, the elder at
one case where positive illness is trace
optional studies or work, the younger
able to over-application, there are probably
at play ...
...
...
•••
•••
3$
(the younger 2^ hours)
at least half-a-dozen cases where the evil
�IT2
At meals........................................
Exercise in the open air, in the shape of
a formal walk, often with lesson-books
in hand, and even this only when the
weather is fine at the appointed time ...
EDUCATION
hours
i
24
And what are the results of this
“astounding regimen,” as Sir John
Forbes terms it? Of course, feebleness,
pallor, want of spirits, general ill-health.
But he describes something more. This
utter disregard of physical welfare, out
of extreme anxiety to cultivate the mind
this prolonged exercise of brain and
deficient exercise of limbs,—he found
to be habitually followed, not only by
disordered functions but by malformation.
He says :—“ We lately visited, in a large
town, a boarding-school containing forty
girls; and we learnt, on close and
accurate inquiry, that there was not one
of the girls who had been at the school
two years (and the majority had been
as long) that was not more or less
crooked 1 ”1
It may be that since 1833, when this
was written, some improvement has taken
place. We hope it has. But that the
system is still common—nay, that it is
in some cases carried to a greater extreme
than ever; we can personally testify. We
recently went over a training-college for
young men: one of those instituted of
late years for the purpose of supplying
schools with well-disciplined teachers.
Here, under official supervision, where
something better than the judgment of
private school-mistresses might have
been looked for, we found the daily
routine to be as follows :—
At 6 o’clock the students are called,
,, 7 to 8 studies,
’ Cyclopedia of Practical Medicine, vol. i.,
pp. 697, 698.
At 8 to 9 scripture-reading, prayers, and break
fast,
,, 9 to 12 studies,
” 12 to
leisure, nominally devoted to walk
ing or other exercise, but often spent ia
study,
” Ii to 2 dinner, the meal commonly occupying
twenty-minutes,
j, 2 to 5 studies,
,, 5 to 6 tea and relaxation,
,, 6 to 8J studies,
,, 8J to 9J private studies in preparing lessons
for the next day,
J, 10 to bed.
Thus, out of the twenty-four hours,
eight are devoted to sleep; four and a
quarter are occupied in dressing, prayers,
meals, and the brief periods of rest
accompanying them; ten and a half are
given to study; and one and a quarter
to exercise, which is optional and often
avoided. Not only, however, are the
ten-and-a-half hours of recognised study
frequently increased to eleven-and-a-half
by devoting to books the time set apart
for exercise; but some of the students
get up at four o’clock in the morning to
prepare their lessons; and are actually
encouraged by their teachers to do this !
The course to be passed through in a
given time is so extensive; and the
teachers, whose credit is at stake in
getting their pupils well through the
examinations, are so urgent; that pupils
are not uncommonly induced to spend
twelve and thirteen hours a day in mental
labour 1
It needs no prophet to see that the
bodily injury inflicted must be great.
As we were told by one of the inmates,
those who arrive with fresh complexions
quickly become blanched. Illness is
frequent: there are always some on the
sick-list. Failure of appetite and indiges
tion are very common. Diarrhoea is a
prevalent disorder: not uncommonly a
third of the whole number of students
suffering under it at the same time.
�PHYSICAL EDUCATION
Headache is generally complained of;
and by some is borne almost daily for
months. While a certain percentage
break down entirely and go away.
That this should be the regimen of
•what is in some sort a model institution,
established and superintended by the
embodied enlightenment of the age, is a
startling fact. That the severe examina
tions, joined with the short period
assigned for preparation, should compel
recourse to a system which inevitably
undermines the health of all who pass
through it, is proof, if not of cruelty,
then of woful ignorance.
The case is no doubt in a great degree
exceptional—perhaps to be paralleled
only in other institutions of the same
class. But that cases so extreme should
exist at all, goes far to show that the
minds of the rising generation are greatly
over-taxed. Expressing as they do the
ideas of the educated community, the
requirements of these training colleges,
even in the absence of other evidence,
would imply a prevailing tendency to an
unduly urgent system of culture.
It seems strange that there should be
so little consciousness of the dangers of
over-education during youth, when there
is so general a consciousness of the
dangers of over-education during child
hood. Most parents are partially aware
of the evil consequences that follow
infant-precocity. In every society may
t>6 heard reprobation of those who too
early stimulate the minds of their little
ones. And the dread of this early
Stimulation is great in proportion as there
h adequate knowledge of the effects;
witness the implied opinion of one of
our most distinguished professors of
physiology, who told us that he did not
intend his little boy to learn any lessons
until he was eight years old. But while
to all it is a familiar truth that a forced
«3
development of intelligence in childhood}
entails either physical feebleness, or ulti
mate stupidity, or early death; it appears
not to be perceived that throughout
youth the same truth holds. Yet it
unquestionably does so. There is a
given order in which, and a given rate
at which, the faculties unfold. If the
course of education conforms itself to
that order and rate, well. If not—if
the higher faculties are early taxed by
presenting an order of knowledge more
complex and abstract than can be readily
assimilated; or if, by excess of culture,
the intellect in general is developed to a
degree beyond that which is natural to
its age; the abnormal advantage gained
will inevitably be accompanied by some
equivalent, or more than equivalent, evil.
For Nature is a strict accountant;
and if you demand of her in one direc
tion more than she is prepared to lay
out, she balances the account by making
a deduction elsewhere. If you will let
her follow her own course, taking care
to supply, in right quantities and kinds,
the raw materials of bodily and mental
growth required at each age, she will
eventually produce an individual more
or less evenly developed. If, however,
you insist on premature or undue growth
of any one part, she will, with more or
less protest, concede the point; but that
she may do your extra work, she must leave
some of her more important work undone.
Let it never be forgotten that the amount
of vital energy which the body at any
moment possesses, is limited; and that,
being limited, it is impossible to get
from it more than a fixed quantity of
results. In a child or youth the demands
upon this vital energy are various and
urgent. As before pointed out, the waste
consequent on the day’s bodily exercise
has to be met; the wear of brain entailed
by the day’s study has to be made good;
�114
EDUCATION
a certain additional growth of body has in mental labour exceeds that which
to be provided for; and also a certain Nature has provided for; the expendi
additional growth of brain: to which ture for other purposes falls below what
must be added the amount of energy it should have been; and evils of one
absorbed in digesting the large quantity kind or other are inevitably entailed.
of food required for meeting these many Let us briefly consider these evils.
Supposing the over-activity of brain to
demands.
Now, that to divert an
excess of energy into any one of these exceed the normal activity only in a
channels is to abstract it from the others, moderate degree, there will be nothing
is both manifest a priori, and proved a more than some slight reaction on the
posteriori, by the experience of every development of the body: the stature
one. Every one knows, for instance, falling a little below that which it would
that the digestion of a heavy meal else have reached; or the bulk being
makes such a demand on the system less than it would have been; or the
as to produce lassitude of mind and body, quality of tissue not being so good. One
frequently ending in sleep. Every one or more of these effects must necessarily
knows, too, that excess of bodily exercise occur. The extra quantity of blood
diminishes the power of thought—that supplied to the brain during mental
the temporary prostration following any exertion, and during the subsequent
sudden exertion, or the fatigue produced period in which the waste of cerebral
by a thirty miles’ walk, is accompanied substance is being made good, is blood
by a disinclination to mental effort; that, that would else have been circulating
after a month’s pedestrian tour, the through the limbs and viscera ; and the
mental inertia is such that some days are growth or repair for which that blood
required to overcome it; and that in would have supplied materials, is lost.
peasants who spend their lives in This physical reaction being certain, the
muscular labour the activity of mind is question is, whether the gain resulting
very small. Again, it is a familiar truth from the extra culture is equivalent to
that during those fits of rapid growth the loss ? — whether defect of bodily
which sometimes occur in childhood, the growth, or the want of that structural
great abstraction of energy is shown in an perfection which gives vigour and endu
attendant prostration, bodily and mental. rance, is compensated by the additional
Once more, the facts that violent muscular knowledge acquired ?
When the excess of mental exertion is
exertion after eating, will stop digestion;
greater, there follow results far more
and that children who are early put to
hard labour become stunted; similarly serious; telling not only against bodily
exhibit the antagonism—similarly imply perfection, but against the perfection of
that excess of activity in one direction the brain itself. It is a physiological
involves deficiency of it in other direc law, first pointed out by M Isidor St.
tions. Now, the law which is thus Hilaire, and to which attention has been
manifest in extreme cases, holds in all drawn by Mr. Lewes in his essay on
cases. These injurious abstractions of “ Dwarfs and Giants,” that there is an
energy as certainly take place when the antagonism between growth and develop
undue demands are slight and constant, ment. By growth, as used in this anti
as when they are great and sudden. thetical sense, is to be understood
Hence, if during youth the expenditure increase of size; by development, increase
�PHYSICAL EDUCATION
of structure. And the law is, that great
activity in either of these processes
involves retardation or arrest of the other.
A familiar example is furnished by the
cases of the caterpillar and the chrysalis.
In the caterpillar there is extremely rapid
augmentation of bulk ; but the structure
is scarcely at all more complex when the
caterpillar is full-grown than when it is
small. In the chrysalis the bulk does
not increase; on the contrary, weight is
lost during this stage of the creature’s
life ; but the elaboration of a more com
plex structure goes on with great activity.
The antagonism, here so clear, is less
traceable in higher creatures, because
the two processes are carried on together.
But we see it pretty well illustrated among
ourselves when we contrast the sexes.
A girl developes in body and mind
rapidly, and ceases to grow compara
tively early. A boy’s bodily and mental
development is slower, and his growth
greater. At the age when the one is
mature, finished, and having all faculties
in full play, the other, whose vital energies
have been more directed towards increase
of size, is relatively incomplete in struc
ture ; and shows it in a comparative
awkwardness, bodily and mental. Now
this law is true of each separate part of
the organism, as well as of the whole.
The abnormally rapid advance of any
organ in respect of structure, involves
premature arrest of its growth; and this
happens with the organ of the mind as
certainly as with any other organ. The
brain, which during early years is rela
tively large in mass but imperfect in
structure, will, if required to perform its
functions with undue activity, undergo
a structural advance greater than is
appropriate to its age; but the ultimate
effect will be a falling short of the size
and power that would else have been
attained. And this is a part-cause—
115
probably the chief cause—why precocious
children, and youths who up to a certain
time were carrying all before them, so
often stop short and disappoint the high
hopes of their parents.
But these results of over-education,
disastrous as they are, are perhaps less
disastrous than the effects produced on
the health—the undermined constitu
tion, the enfeebled energies, the morbid
feelings. Recent discoveries in physiology
have shown how immense is the influence
of the brain over the functions of the
body. Digestion, circulation, and through
these all the organic processes, are
profoundly affected by cerebral excite
ment. Whoever has seen repeated, as
we have, the experiment first performed
by Weber, showing the consequence of
irritating the vagus nerve, which connects
the brain with the viscera—whoever has
seen the action of the heart suddenly
arrested by irritating this nerve; slowly
recommencing when the irritation is
suspended; and again arrested the
moment it is renewed; will have a vivid
conception of the depressing influence
which an overwrought brain exercises
on the body. The effects thus physio
logically explained, are indeed exemplified
in ordinary experience. There is no one
but has felt the palpitation accompanying
hope, fear, anger, joy—no one but has
observed how laboured becomes the
action of the heart when these feelings
are violent. And though there are many
who have never suffered that extreme
emotional excitement which is followed
by arrest of the heart’s action and fainting;
yet every one knows these to be cause
and effect. It is a familiar fact, too,
that disturbance of the stomach results
from mental excitement exceeding a
certain intensity. Loss of appetite is a
common consequence alike of very
pleasurable and very painful states of
�EDUCATION
mind. When the event producing a
pleasurable or painful state of mind
occurs shortly after a meal, it not unfrequently happens either that the stomach
rejects what has been eaten, or digests
it with great difficulty and under protest.
And as every one who taxes his brain
much can testify, even purely intellectual
action will, when excessive, produce
analogous effects. Now the relation
between brain and body which is so
manifest in these extreme cases, holds
equally in ordinary, less-marked cases.
Just as these violent but temporary
cerebral excitements produce violent but
temporary disturbances of the viscera;
so do the less violent but chronic cerebral
excitements produce less violent but
chronic visceral disturbances. This is
not simply an inference:—it is a truth
to which every medical man can bear
witness; .and it is one to which a long
and sad experience enables us to give
personal testimony. Various degrees and
forms of bodily derangement, often taking
years of enforced idleness to set partially
right, result from this prolonged over
exertion of mind. Sometimes the heart
is chiefly affected : habitual palpitations;
a pulse much enfeebled; and very
generally a diminution in the number of
beats from seventy-two to sixty, or
even fewer. Sometimes the conspicuous
disorder is of the stomach: a dyspepsia
which makes life a burden, and is
amenable to no remedy but time. In
many cases both heart and stomach are
implicated. Mostly the sleep is short
and broken. And very generally there
is more or less mental depression.
Consider, then, how great must be the
damage inflicted by undue mental excite
ment on children and youths. More or
less of this constitutional disturbance will
inevitably follow an exertion of brain
beyond the normal amount; and when not
so excessive as to produce absolute illness,
is sure to entail a slowly accumulating
degeneracy of physique. With a small
and fastidious appetite, an imperfect
digestion, and an enfeebled circulation,
how can the developing body flourish?
The due performance of every vital
process depends on an adequate supply
of good blood. Without enough good
blood, no gland can secrete properly, no
viscus can fully discharge its office.
Without enough good blood, no nerve,
muscle, membrane, or other tissue can
be efficiently repaired. Without enough
good blood, growth will be neither sound
nor ■ sufficient. Judge, then, how bad
must be the consequences when to a
growing body the weakened stomach
supplies blood that is deficient in quantity
and poor in quality; while the debilitated
heart propels this poor and scanty blood
with unnatural slowness.
And if, as all who investigate the
matter must admit, physical degeneracy
is a consequence of excessive study, how
grave is the condemnation to be passed
on this cramming-system above exempli
fied. It is a terrible mistake, from
whatever point of view regarded. It is
a mistake in so far as the mere acquire
ment of knowledge is concerned. For
the mind, like the body, cannot assimilate
beyond a certain rate; and if you ply it
with facts faster than it can assimilate
them, they are soon rejected again:
instead of being built into the intellectual
fabric, they fall out of recollection after
the passing of the examination for which
they were got up. It is a mistake, too,
because it tends to make study distasteful.
Either through the painful associations
produced by ceaseless mental toil, or
through the abnormal state of brain it
leaves behind, it often generates an
aversion to books; and, instead of
that subsequent self-culture induced by
�PHYSICAL EDUCATION
rational education, there comes continued
retrogression. It is a mistake, also,
inasmuch as it assumes that the acquisi
tion of knowledge is everything; and
forgets that a much more important
thing is the organisation of knowledge,
for which time and spontaneous thinking
are requisite. As Humboldt remarks
respecting the progress of intelligence in
general, that “ the interpretation of
Nature is obscured when the description
languishes under too great an accumula
tion of insulated facts ”; so, it may be
remarked respecting the progress of indi
vidual intelligence, that the mind is over
burdened and hampered by an excess of
ill-digested information. It is not the
knowledge stored up as intellectual fat
which is of value; but that which is
turned into intellectual muscle. The
mistake goes still deeper however. Even
were the system good as producing
intellectual efficiency, which it is not; it
would still be bad, because, as we have
shown, it is fatal to that vigour of physique
needful to make intellectual training
available in the struggle of life. Those
who, in eagerness to cultivate their pupils’
minds, are reckless of their bodies, do
not remember that success in the world
depends more on energy than on infor
mation ; and that a policy which in
cramming with information undermines
energy, is self-defeating. The strong will
and untiring activity due to abundant
animal vigour, go far to compensate even
great defects of education; and when
joined with that quite adequate education
which may be obtained without sacrificing
health, they ensure an easy victory over
competitors enfeebled by excessive study :
prodigies of learning though they may be.
A comparatively small and ill-made
engine, worked at high pressure, will do
more than a large and well-finished one
worked at low pressure. What folly is
117
it, then, while finishing the engine, so to
damage the boiler that it will not generate
steam ! Once more, the system is a
mistake, as involving a false estimate of
welfare in life. Even supposing it were
a means to worldly success, instead of a
means to worldly failure, yet, in the
entailed ill-health, it would inflict a more
than equivalent curse. What boots it to
have attained wealth, if the wealth is
accompanied by ceaseless ailments ?
What is the worth of distinction, if it has
brought hypochondria with it ? Surely
no one needs telling that a good digestion,
a bounding pulse, and high spirits, are
elements of happiness which no external
advantages can out-balance. Chronic
bodily disorder casts a gloom over the
brightest prospects ; while the vivacity of
strong health gilds even misfortune. We
contend, then, that this over-education is
vicious in every way—vicious, as giving
knowledge that will soon be forgotten ;
vicious, as producing a disgust for
knowledge; vicious, as neglecting that
organisation of knowledge which is more
important than its acquisition; vicious,
as weakening or destroying that energy
without which a trained intellect is
useless; vicious, as entailing that illhealth for which even success would not
compensate, and which makes failure
doubly bitter.
On women the effects of this forcing
system are, if possible, even more injurious
than on men. Being in great measure
debarred from those vigorous and en
joyable exercises of body by which boys
mitigate the evils of excessive study,
girls feel these evils in their full intensity.
Hence, the much smaller proportion of
them who grow up well-made and healthy.
In the pale, angular, flat-chested young
ladies, so abundant in London drawing
rooms, we see the effect of merciless
application, unrelieved by youthful sports ;
�EDUCATION
and this physical degeneracy hinders
their welfare far more than their many
accomplishments aid it. Mammas anxious
to make their daughters attractive, could
scarcely choose a course more fatal than
this, which sacrifices the body to the
mind. Either they disregard the tastes
of the opposite sex, or else their concep
tion of those tastes is erroneous. Men
care little for erudition in women; but
very much for physical beauty, good
nature, and sound sense. How many
conquests does the blue-stocking * ake
m
through her extensive knowledge of
history ? What man ever fell in love
with a woman because she understood
Italian ? Where is the Edwin who was
brought to Angelina’s feet by her German?
But rosy cheeks and laughing eyes are
great attractions. A finely-rounded figure
draws admiring glances. The liveliness
and good humour that overflowing health
produces, go a great way towards estab
lishing attachments. Every one knows
cases where bodily perfections, in the
absence of all other recommendations,
have incited a passion that carried all
before it; but scarcely any one can point
to a case where intellectual acquirements,
apart from moral or physical attributes,
have aroused such a feeling. The truth
is, that out of the many elements uniting
in various proportions to produce in a
man’s breast the complex emotion we
call love, the strongest are those produced
by physical attractions; the next in order
of strength are those produced by moral
attractions; the weakest are those pro
duced by intellectual attractions; and
even these are dependent less on acquired
knowledge than on natural faculty —
quickness, wit, insight. If any think the
assertion a derogatory one, and inveigh
against the masculine character for being
thus swayed; we reply that they little
know what they say when they thus call
in question the Divine ordinations. Even
were there no obvious meaning in the
arrangement, we might be sure that some
important end was subserved. But the
meaning is quite obvious to those who
examine. When we remember that one
of Nature’s ends, or rather her supreme
end, is the welfare of posterity; further
that, in so far as posterity are concerned,
a cultivated intelligence based on a bad
physique is of little worth, since its descen
dants will die out in a generation or two ;
and conversely that a good physique,
however poor the accompanying mental
endowments, is worth preserving, because,
throughout future generations, the mental
endowments may be indefinitely de
veloped ; we perceive how important is
the balance of instincts above described.
But, advantage apart, the instincts being
thus balanced, it is folly to persist in a
system which undermines a girl’s constitu
tion that it may overload her memory.
Educate as highly as possible—the higher
the better—provided no bodily injury is
entailed (and we may remark, in passing,
that a sufficiently high standard might be
reached were the parrot-faculty cultivated
less, and the human faculty more, and
were the discipline extended over that
now wasted period between leaving school
and being married). But to educate in
such manner, or to such extent, as to
produce physical degeneracy, is to defeat
the chief end for which the toil and cost
and anxiety are submitted to. By sub
jecting their daughters to this highpressure system, parents frequently ruin
their prospects in life. Besides inflicting
on them enfeebled health, with all its
pains and disabilities and gloom ; they
not unfrequently doom them to celibacy.
The physical education of children is
thus, in various ways, seriously faulty.
It errs in deficient feeding ; in deficient
�PHYSICAL EDUCATION
clothing ; in deficient exercise (among
girls at least); and in excessive mental
application. Considering the régime as
a whole, its tendency is too exacting : it
asks too much and gives too little. In
the extent to which it taxes the vital
energies, it makes the juvenile life far
more like the adult life than it should be.
It overlooks the truth that, as in the
foetus the entire vitality is expended in
growth—as in the infant, the expenditure
of vitality in growth is so great as to leave
extremely little for either physical or
mental action ; so throughout childhood
and youth, growth is the dominant
requirement to which all others must
be subordinated : a requirement which
dictates the giving of much and the taking
away of little — a requirement which,
therefore, restricts the exertion of body
and mind in proportion to the rapidity
of growth—a requirement which permits
the mental and physical activities to
increase only as fast as the rate of growth
diminishes.
The rationale of this high-pressure
education is that it results from our
passing phase of civilisation. In primitive
times, when aggression and defence were
the leading social activities, bodily vigour
with its accompanying courage were the
desiderata ; and then education was
almost wholly physical: mental cultivation
was little cared for, and indeed, as in
feudal ages, was often treated with con
tempt. But now that our state is relatively
peaceful—now that muscular power is of
use for little else than manual labour,
while social success of nearly every kind
119
depends very much on mental power;
our education has become almost exclu
sively mental. Instead of respecting the
body and ignoring the mind, we now
respect the mind and ignore the body.
Both these attitudes are wrong. We do
not yet realise the truth that as, in this
life of ours, the physical underlies the
mental, the mental must not be developed
at the expense of the physical. The
ancient and modem conceptions must
be combined.
Perhaps nothing will so much hasten
the time when body and mind will both
be adequately cared for, as a diffusion of
the belief that the preservation of health
is a duty. Few seem conscious that
there is such a thing as physical morality.
Men’s habitual words and acts imply the
idea that they are at liberty to treat their
bodies as they please. Disorders entailed
by disobedience to Nature’s dictates, they
regard simply as grievances : not as the
effects of a conduct more or less flagitious.
Though the evil consequences inflicted
on their dependents, and on future
generations, are often as great as those
caused by crime; yet they do not think
themselves in any degree criminal. It
is true that, in the case of drunkenness,
the viciousness of a bodily transgression
is recognised : but none appear to infer
that, if this bodily transgression is vicious,
so too is every bodily transgression.
The fact is, that all breaches of the laws
of health are physical sins. When this is
generally seen, then, and perhaps not till
then, will the physical training of the
young receive the attention it deserves.
THE END.
�INDEX
[For this Index the author is indebted to F. H. Collins, Esq., of Edgbaston,
Birmingham, who very kindly volunteered to prepare it for him.]
A.
Abstract-Sciences and their industrial appli
cations, 19 ; those of the abstract-concrete, 19
“ Accomplishments, the,” in a lady’s education,
10
Accountant, the facility acquired by one, 36 ;
Nature, a strict, 113-115
Activities, classification of the, 13
Æsthetic culture, the value of, 30-31
Agriculture, aided by Chemistry, 20, and by
Biology, 21
Amusements and Relaxations, the knowledge
aiding the, 30-35 .
Anatomy and Botany as cultivating the memory,
36
Ancestors, their vigour compared with our own,
no
“ Animal, a good,” the necessity to be, 43, 94
Animals, their rearing studied more than that
of children, 93 ; their vital processes allied to
man’s, 94 ; their energies dependent upon
their kinds of food, 100
Apperley, Mr., on hunters, 101-105
Applause, the general desire for, 11
Arithmetical Truths should be taught in the
concrete, 45
Asceticism and its Relation to Educational
Systems, 41
Astronomy, its industrial application, 21
Aveyron, the Wild Boy of, 48
B.
Bacon—“ The relative values ofknowledges,” 12
Battles, history is largely composed of their
descriptions, 27-28
Beauty, physical, in women is more attractive
than erudition, 18
Beliefs, the growing diversity in, 42
Bernard, M. Claude, on the functions of the
liver, 96
Biology, its application to agriculture, 21
Bodily Exercise, as needful for girls as boys,
106-109 ! in excess, diminishes thought, 114
Body, the cost of mental achievement to the,
114-117.
Books, their educational value over-rated, 25
Botany, its interest to Children, 58
Bread and Butter ; its too great frequency, 96, 103
Brain reacts upon the body, the, 114-117
Breakfast Roll, its history, 19
Burns, the lesson taught by, 84-90
Butterflies, their collection and keeping cultivate
the powers of observation, 59
C.
Candle, the penalty for playing with a lighted,
84
Cardboard, figures cut in, 64
Carelessness ; its natural penalty, 78-80
Caterpillar as an example of growth, 115
Centre of gravity in Sculpture, 32
Chemistry; its industrial value, 20
Children, prevalent ignorance concerning the
rearing of, 23-27 ; is harshness to children a
preparation for their after-life ? 73 ; moral
precocity equally detrimental with intellectual,
88; their love of fruits and sweets justified,
95-97
Chrysalis, as an example of Development, 115
Citizen, the knowledge which aids the functions
of the, 27-30
Civilisation ; its order, and that of education
should be similar, 52, 53
Classics, Public Opinion the motive for teaching
them, 9 ; and Mathematics form an insignifi
cant part of a proper Curriculum, 11-12
Clothing is a development of decoration, 9-11 ;
the natural penalty for its reckless treatment,
80; should suffice to prevent an abiding
sensation of cold, 103-106
Coal-mining, its Failure, from lack of geological
knowledge, 22
Cold, its ill-effects on the development of
children, 24, 103-106
Colours ; children’s delight in painting, 60
Combe, Dr. Andrew, on the advantages of Fruit
in Diet, 96, 97; on the importance of sufficient
Clothing, 105
Commands, Parents should give few, 89 ; but
when given they should be decisive and con
sistent, 89
Comte, M.—The Education of the Child should
accord with th it of mankind, considered
historically, 52
�INDEX
Concrete Sciences, and their industrial applica
tions, the, 19
Conduct, the right ruling of, in all divisions, the
aim of education, 13 ; of Society, Parents, and
Children relatively considered, 71-74 ; the
definitions of good and bad, 74
“Could a Man be Secure,” 12
Cramming Systems, their mischievous results,
HÔ-118
Culture, the desirableness of general, 15 ; the
present value of the Æsthetic, and its probable
future increase, 30-32
D.
HANTS, a knowledge of, a small consolation in
trouble, 27
Decision should be used by Parents in commands, 89
Decoration in Primitive Societies precedes dress,
9-11
Degenerating, are we ? no
Despotism in the State induces Despotism in
Education, 41
Development ; its long duration in Children, 48;
of the mind, 50-55 > an increase of structure
retards increase of size, 115
Discobolus, illustrates ignorance of the law of
momentum, the, 32
Diet. {See Food.)
Digestion, chemical changes in, 96 ; the organs
of, smaller in civilised than in savage races,
103, productive of lassitudes 114
Discipline ; Science superior to language for
cultivating the judgment and for moral dis.dpline, 35-39 ; of nature not wholly sufficient
for education, 47 ; of unavoidable consequences
or the penalties of Nature, 74-87 ; failure of
artificial criminal codes, 76 ; English school
discipline less severe than the French, 87 ;
the aim of, should be to produce a selfgoverning being, 90
Disease, the permanent damage done by, 17
■Drawing, when and how to teach, 60-63 >
apparatus for teaching perspective, 62
Dress. {See Clothing. )
Drinking without Thirst, its evils, 17, 103
Drunkenness, accompanied by physical de
generacy, 74, 119
E.
Eating without hunger, its evils, 17, 103
Education at the present time a matter of custom
and prejudice, 11. The ideal, a training in
each subject proportionate to its value, 15.
The omissions and vices of our present system,
31 ; and its relation to the contemporary social
. state, 40-43, 72-74- The past and present
systems compared, 43-48. It should conform
with the evolution of the faculties, 47-48.
Should be a repetition in little of civilisation,
53, 66 : and should commence in infancy with
object lessons, 55
Electricity and its industrial applications, 20
Emotions, the prevailing ignorance of their
nature» 24
121
Empirical should precede the rational in educa
tion, 53
Employers and employed ; their relations should
be noted in history, 29
Energy in well-fed races is greater than that in
ill-fed, 99-101
English and German Boys ; their relative charac
ters, 91
English and Foreign Labourers compared, 101
Error, suppression of one, followed by the
ascendency of another, 43
Euclid, an attractive study when addressed to
the understanding, 65
Evolution of the faculties should be the basis of
education, the, 47-48. The laws of mental
evolution, 50-55
Examinations cause the acquirement ot un
organised knowledge, which is soon forgotten,
26
Exercise, bodily, as needful for girls as boys,
106-109 > in excess diminishes thought, 114
Eye, an instance of faculty developed through
function, 36
,F.
Faculties are developed by the performance of
their functions, 36
Family, prevalent ignorance concerning the
rearing of a, 23-27 ; and its management, 69
Family _ Government, Richter on the present
chaotic state in, 70
Faraday, Professor, on the deficiency of judg
ment in society, 37
&
Fatigue of body or brain should be followed by
desistance, 17
Features of young children resemble those of a
savage, 87
Feelings react upon the reflective powers, the,
34
Fellenberg—Indolence is not natural to children,
54 J the importance of individual activity in
children, 67
Food, to be beneficial should be varied, 21,
103 ; sufficient in quantity--appetite being a
natural guide, 95-97 ; and for children highly
nutritious, 97-103 ; the easy digestibility of a
French dinner, 102 ; food as well as clothing
is necessary for maintaining the heat of the
body, 104-106.
Forbes, Sir John, on the present division of time
in girls’ schools, III
Fruit, children’s love for, also its digestibility, 96
Friendship, between parents and children, should
be cultivated, 83-87
G.
Games of children develop the system and pre
pare it for after life, 16
Genius as well as science necessary to attain the
highest results, 34
Geography, in teaching, physical, should precede
political, 26
Geology : its industrial applications, 21 ; a
knowledge of increases the poetry of nature,
34
Geometry: its industrial uses, 19 ; its lessons
�INDEX
122
should commence empirically with models,
and afterwards proceed to the rational with
Euclid, 63-66 ; Inventional Geometry, 66;
Professor Tyndall, on rendering it attractive,
65
Grammar coming after language historically,
should be taught after it, 44
Growth is affected by the food consumed, 97100; and by the temperature experienced,
104; an increase of size retards increase of
structure, 115
H.
Happiness, regarded as a legitimate aim, 41 ;
favourable to physical and mental action, 54,
66-68, 109
Hardening Theory, its ill effects on children’s
health, 104
Health, its importance for all activities, 17-18,
109, 117 ; some causes and effects of ill-health,
17, 104, no; affected by over-study, 110-118;
its preservation a duty, 119
Heart, influences affecting its action, 115
Heat, its science and industrial applications, 20
Heredity and the transmission of defects, 52, 72;
likewise of those caused by over-study, 111
History, considered part of a good education,
10 ; its worthlessness as now taught, 15, 27 ;
as it should be taught, 28-30
Huxley, Professor, on true science and religion,
38
I.
Ignorance, the various effects produced by
parental, 23
Impulsiveness should be avoided by parents,
89
Indefinite in education should precede the defi
nite, the, 51
Indolence in children is unnatural—Fellenberg,
54
■
•
, ■
Insects, their collection and keeping cultivate
the powers of observation, 58
Instincts of an infant, self-preservative, 16. They
show that progression should be from the
simple to the complex, 56
Interest, the advantages of doing work with, 67
Inventional Geometry, 66
K.
Kingsley, Mr., his writings against over
culture, 94
Knowledge, the importance of knowing its rela
tive value, 12; and Discipline form the two
values of an acquirement, 16; Rational
superior to Empirical, 22 ; it should be orga
nised, and not merely acquired, 116
L.
Labourers, English and Foreign compared, 101
Language inferior to Science for cultivating the
judgment and the memory, 36
Learning by rote inferior to Self-instruction, 26 ;
and now falling into disuse, 43
Lehman, on the quantity of Carbonic Acid
excreted by Children and Adults, 105
Leisure, the occupations of, 12, 30
Liebig—Clothing is an equivalent for a certain
amount of food, 104
Life, its present, falls below its possible dura
tion, 17 ; the Tables of Mortality show its in
creased length, 109
Light, the science of, and its industrial applica
tions, 20
Livelihood, gaining a (indirect self-preservation),
the knowledge which best aids, 19-23
Locke, John, on the futility of very severe
punishment, 87
M.
Machinery, its all-prevailing use, 19
Mann, Horace—“ Education consists too much
at present in telling, and not training” 67
Marcel, M.—“ Grammar is not a stepping-stone,
but the finishing instrument,” 44 ; Weights and
Measures should be taught by the use of
models, 45 ; the Child should be shown the
relation of the parts of an object, 56 ; for the
Mind, it is better to discover than be told, 67
Mathematics indispensable for the arts of con
struction, 19; and Classics form an insignificant
part of a proper curriculum, 11-12
Maxims, of Art are related to psychologic prin
ciples, 34; and Rules for parental guidance,
87-92
Memory and Judgment cultivated by science,
the, 36-37
Mirabeau and the word “ impossible,” 65
Modern life, its increasing strain necessitates a
sound constitution, 94, no
Moderation to be used and moderate results
expected, 88
Montaigne—Sqavoir par cceurn'estpas st;avoir, 43
Mortality, and the effects of cold on infants
abroad, 105; Tables of, show an increased
length of life, 109
Multiplication Table should be taught experi
mentally, 43
Music based on science, 33
N.
Natural History trains the powers of observa
tion in children, and should be encouraged,
58, 82
. .
r
Navigation an industrial application of astro
nomy, 21
Neatness inculcated by the natural penalties for
untidiness, 77-78
Nerve, the effects on the heart of irritating the
vagus, 115
Newton, an example of patience, 65
Nursery, one of the evils of over legislation in
the, 95
O.
Object Lessons, their importance in commenc
ing education, 45, 56-66
Observation, important tocultivate the powers of,
44
�INDEX
Opinions, the various revolutions affecting, 4043
Ornament in dress predominates over use
among savages, 9-11
Over-study, some instances of, and injuries
brought on by, 110-118
P.
Painting, based on science, 32 ; children’s
delight in should be made an incentive to
drawing, 60
Palmerston’s, Lord, “All Children are born
Good,” 71
Paper, children’s powers of manipulation increase
by cutting objects in, 64
Parents, their duties precede those of the citizen,
14; the knowledge which aids them in rearing
children, 23-27 ; their conduct and children’s
relatively considered, 71-74, 76, 80-82 ; their
conduct, and not children’s perversity, a fre
quent cause of disorder, 71; mostly considered
as “friend-enemies,” 83; maxims and rules
for their guidance, 87-92
Particulars in education should precede the
generalisation, 44, 52
Penalties, the natural, considered for the lighter
offences, 74-82 J and for the more serious,
82-87
Perspective, when and how to teach it, 62 ; its
practicability, 67
Pestalozzi—Education should conform to mental
evolution, 46; his practice did not conform to
the principles of his system, 48-50 ; education
should begin in infancy, 55
Physiology, ignorance of its principles is pro
ductive of ill-health, 17-18 ; a knowledge of
it is necessary for bringing up children, 26
Picture, its true theory is that of objects projected
on a plane, 63
Pillans, Professor — Children when properly
taught as happy as wh- n at play, 68
Poetry, scientific principles necessary to true, 33;
science is itself poetic, 34
Precocity, intellectual should be discouraged, 43 ;
likewise moral precocity, 88; its ultimate
effect is a falling short in size and power, 114
Promptings of nature should be obeyed, 17
Psychology, its guidance needed by parents and
teachers, 25, 26, 49 ; its principles underlie
the maxims of art, 34
Public Schools and their Teaching, 23 ; their
discipline, 73, 87
Punctuality, to be instilled by the use of its
natural penalty, 79
R.
Railway making regulated by Geometry, 19;
children’s restlessness in travelling by, 72
Relaxations and Amusements, the knowledge
which aids the, 30-35
Religion and Science, Professor Huxley on,
.38-9
Richter, his description of the chaotic state of
moral education, 70; Pas trop gouverner, 89
123
S.
Sçavoir par cœur n‘est pas sçavoir—Montaigne,
43
Schools, the Public and their teaching, 23 ; their
discipline, 73, 87 ; English and Foreign com
pared, 91 ; the division of time in various,
111-112
Sculpture based on the principles of science, 32.
Science, its truths are of intrinsic value, 15 ; of
society and its industrial uses, 21 ; underlies
art> 3r—35 î is poetic, 34; cultivates the
memory and the judgment, 36-37 ; and fosters
religion, 38-39 ; the universal need for, 39 ;
the Cinderella of knowledge, 40 ; evolves
from its corresponding art, 53
Self-control, needful to parents, 89
Self-governed, the aim of education is to produce
a being, 90
Self-instruction to be encouraged, 53, 66 ; its
lasting advantages, 67-9
Self-preservation is primarily important, 13 ; the
knowledge which aids Direct, 16-18 ; and
Indirect, or gaining a livelihood, 18-23
Self-renunciation necessary to scientific men,
Professor Tyndall on the, 38
Self-will in Children not to be regretted, 91
Simple in Education should precede the com
plex, the, 50
Social Observances should be noted in History,
28 ; Social Phenomena are the phenomena of
life, 30
Society, its goodness is dependent on the nature
of its citizens, 14, 30; “Is ignorant of its own
ignorance”—Professor Faraday, 37
Species, their number in Botany and in Zoology,
36 . .
Sugar, its importance as Food, 96
Sympathy, children’s desire for, 55-58 ; the
regret for offending varies with the amount of,
86
T.
Theft, why catalogued as a sin, 74 ; its natural
penalty, 86
Time, Systematised Education will increase the
amount of Leisure, 30 ; its division at various
schools, Hi-112
Tyndall, Professor, on Inductive Inquiry, 38 ;
on teaching Geometry attractively, 65
V.
Vaccination, a possible cause of degeneration,
110
Vegetarianism entails diminished energy, 99-102
W.
Whipping Juvenile Criminals not preventive of
crime, 87
Wyse, Mr., On the rational method of teaching
geometry, 63
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Pamphlet
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Title
A name given to the resource
Education : intellectual, moral, and physical
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Spencer, Herbert [1820-1903]
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: London
Collation: 126, [2] p. ; 22 cm.
Series title: R.P.A. Cheap Reprints
Series number: No. 6
Notes: Part of the NSS pamphlet collection. Index compiled by F.H. Collins of Edgbaston [and it's very good - cataloguer's note]. Bust of Spencer on front cover. Publisher's advertisements on last two numbered pages and unnumbered pages at the end. Issued for the Rationalist Press Association, Limited. First published London: Williams & Norgate, 1861. The cheap edition of the work first published 1878. Stamp on title page "2d given. If this book is returned to W.A. Foyle, 65 Grand Parade, Harringay". Includes bibliographical references and index.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Watts & Co.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1903
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
RA1241
N620
Subject
The topic of the resource
Education
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (Education : intellectual, moral, and physical), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
Format
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application/pdf
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Language
A language of the resource
English
Education
Moral Education
NSS