GALLERY TEACHING--MORAL AND RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION.
_Original intention of the gallery--What lessons are adapted for
it--Its misapplication--Selection of teachers--Observations--Gallery
lessons an a feather--A spider--A piece of bog-turf--A piece of
coal--Observations on the preceding lessons--Scripture lessons in
the gallery--The finding of Moses--Christ with the doctors--Moral
training--Its neglect in most schools--Should be commenced in
infancy--Beneficial effects of real moral culture--Ignorance of
teachers--The gallery most useful in moral training--Specimen of a
moral lesson--Illustrations of moral culture--Anecdotes--Simpson on
moral education--Observations--Hints to teachers_.
There is no part of the infant system which has been more
misunderstood, than the system of giving lessons in the gallery; and
hence I have thought it necessary to devote a larger space to the
subject, than I did in the former editions of this work. The gallery
was originally intended by me, to give the children such lessons as
appealed directly to the senses, either orally or by representative
objects: thus the teaching arithmetic by the frame and balls, inasmuch
as it appealed to the eye as well as to the understanding, was
suitable for a gallery lesson. The same observations hold good with
respect to a Scripture picture, or the representation of an animal,
a tree, or any object that can be presented to the eye. We have also
found it very useful in teaching the catechism, or anything that is to
be committed to memory, and this part of our plan has proved so useful
and successful, that it has been adopted in many schools for older
children of both sexes, I mean in the Normal schools of Glasgow and
Edinburgh, the Corporation Schools of Liverpool, and the government
Model Schools at Dublin. In the two latter the arrangements, both in
the fittings up of the play-grounds, galleries, and school-rooms, were
made under my especial inspection, and I have no doubt that the use of
the gallery, when it becomes more generally known in large schools,
will become universal.
The taught should see the face of the teacher in these lessons, and
the teacher should see the face of the taught: it establishes a
sympathy between both to the advantage of each. The face is the index
to the mind, and at times shews the intention, even without words.
Some animals can read this index: the horse, the dog, the elephant,
and many of the higher order of animals. Children can always read the
countenance of the sincere, the wise, and the good. Yea! mere infants
can. Reader! Don't smile! were this the time and place, I could
demonstrate these opinions by _facts_. This is not a book for
controversy and metaphysical disquisition; but for use to teachers.
When the children and teachers see each other, as in the gallery, the
effect is highly beneficial. This may be proved by any teacher. As to
the cause for this effect, it would be out of place to argue it here.
I therefore simply state it is true. Sympathy is a power destined to
be of use in teaching, and hereafter will be better understood.
Many friends to infant education, and casual visitors, having found
these erections in infant schools, have concluded that the children
should always be sitting on them, which is a fatal error, and deprives
the children of that part of the system which legislates for the
exercise of their locomotive powers, such as the spelling and reading
lessons, and the method of teaching object lessons, as described in
another part of this work: the consequence has been, that the schools
have become mere parrot-schools, and the children are restless and
inattentive. And this has not been the only evil that has attended a
misapplication of the gallery; for the teachers, for want of knowing
the system properly, have been at a loss how to occupy the time of the
children, and scores of teachers have ruined their own constitutions,
and also the constitutions of some of the children, by the perpetual
talking and singing, which, I am sorry to say, too many consider to be
the sum total of the system: and I may state here, that the children
should never be more than one hour at a time, or, at most two hours,
during the day, in the gallery. All beyond this is injurious to the
teacher, and doubly so to the little pupils. The forenoon is always
the best time for gallery lessons; the teacher's mind is more clear,
and the minds of the children are more receptive. After the children
have taken their dinner they should be entertained with the object
lessons, a small portion of spelling and reading, and the rest of the
afternoon should be devoted to moral and physical teaching in the
play-ground, if the weather will at all permit it. The more you
rob your children of their physical education to shew off their
intellectual acquirements, the more injury you do their health and
your own; and in the effort to do too much, you violate the laws of
nature, defeat your own object, and make the school a hot-bed of
precocity, instead of a rational infants' school for the training
and educating infants. I have been blamed, by writers on the infant
system, for that which I never did, and never recommended; I have been
made answerable for the errors and mis-conceptions of others, who have
not troubled themselves to read my writings; and, in their anxiety
to produce something new and original, have strayed from the very
essential parts of the plan, and on this account I am charged by
several writers with being unacquainted with the philosophy of my own
system. I thought three-and-thirty years ago that if I could arrest
public attention to the subject, it was as much as could be expected.
I knew very well at that time that a dry philosophical detail would
neither be received or read. My object was to appeal to the senses of
the public by doing the thing in every town where practicable. By this
method I succeeded, where the other would have failed, but it by no
means followed that I was unacquainted with the philosophy of my
own plans, merely because I preferred the doing of the thing to the
writing about it. Believing, however, that the time has now arrived,
and that the public mind is better prepared than it was then, I have
thought I might venture to go a little more into detail, in order to
remove some well founded objections, which, but for this reason, would
not have existed. The infant mind, like a tender plant, requires to
be handled and dealt with carefully, for if it be forced and
injudiciously treated during the first seven years of its existence,
it will affect its whole constitution as long as it lives afterwards.
There are hundreds of persons who will not believe this, and those
persons will employ mere boys and girls to teach infants. Let them do
so if they please; I simply protest against it, and merely give it as
my opinion that it is highly improper to do so. If ever infant schools
are to become real blessings to the country, they must be placed under
the care of wise, discreet, and experienced persons, for no others
will be fit or able to develop and cultivate the infant faculties
aright. I have felt it necessary to make these remarks, because in
different parts of the country I have found mere children employed as
school-masters and school-mistresses, to the great detriment of the
young committed to their charge, and the dishonour of the country that
permits it. No wise man would put a mere child to break his colts;
none but a foolish one would employ an inexperienced boy to break in
his dogs; even the poultry and pigs would be attended by a person who
knew something about them; but almost any creature who can read and
write, and is acquainted with the first rules of arithmetic, is too
frequently thought a fit and proper person to superintend infants. I
know many instances of discarded servants totally unfit, made teachers
of infants, merely to put them in place; to the destruction of the
highest and most noble of God's creatures! which I contend infants
are. To expect that such persons can give gallery lessons as they
ought to be given, is expecting what will never, nor can take place.
The public must possess different views of the subject; more rational
ideas on the art of teaching must be entertained, and greater
remuneration must be given to teachers, and greater efforts made to
train and educate them, to fit them for the office, before any very
beneficial results can be seen; and it is to produce such results, and
a better tone of feeling on the subject, that I have thus ventured to
give my opinion more in detail. Efficient gallery lessons--efficient
teachers must be made. They do not at present exist in large numbers,
and can only be made by a suitable reward being held out to them, and
by their being placed under the superintendence of experienced persons
acquainted with the art. The art of teaching is no mean art, and must,
sooner or later, take its proper rank amongst the other sciences.
It is a science which requires deep study and knowledge of human
character, and is only to be learned like all other sciences, by much
perseverance and practice. In another work, on the education of older
children, I have given some specimens of gallery lessons; in this I
shall endeavour to give a few specimens of what I think useful lessons
for infants, and shall also try to clothe them in language suited to
the infant apprehensions; and I sincerely hope they may shew in a
plain manner the method of giving this species of instruction to the
children, and that teachers who were before ignorant of it, may be
benefitted thereby. I shall not pretend to give my opinion as to
whether I have succeeded, but will leave this point entirely to the
judgment and candour of my readers; for I know by experience that it
is a very difficult thing to put practice into theory; and although
this may seem paradoxical, yet I have no doubt that many have
experienced the very same results when trying to explain theoretically
on paper what they have with ease practised a thousand times.
These oral lessons on real objects ought to be given in pure, simple,
and plain language, level to the understanding and capacity of
children. It may be well at times to use words of a more difficult
or scientific character; but these should always have the proper
explanation given; the words used most frequently in common life, in
ordinary and proper conversation, ought to be most strongly impressed
on their memories. It may, perhaps, be retorted on me--why then teach
the difficult and scientific names of geometrical figures. The answer
is very simple. Most of them have no other, and where they have I
always give them also, as sloping, slanting, inclined, for oblique.
The geometrical figures are the elements of all forms, and the
simplest objects which can be presented to the young. I have found
them always learned with the greatest ease and pleasure. Pestalozzi, I
have understood, was led to the use of them by observing the wants
of the young mind, in a similar manner that I was myself. This is,
therefore, one of the many coincidences in thought and discovery by
minds wholly independent of each other, which have been directed to
the same subjects. This is an evitable result. If two men look at the
moon, both must see that it is round, bright, and mottled; and if
two minds far apart, turn their attention to similar subjects, the
probability is that their views will coincide. The most powerful mind
will of course make the deepest and simplest discovery.
Object lessons should be given chiefly on such things as fall under
more constant observation and are daily coming before the sight, and
then useful knowledge will be accumulated, and frequently reimpressed
upon the memory by the seeing of the objects.
GALLERY LESSONS ON A FEATHER.
We will suppose the children all properly seated, the little girls
on one side of the gallery and the little boys on the other, as
represented on the plan-plate. If the morning is fine and clear, a
lesson may be given on an object that the children are not frequently
in the habit of seeing; but should the weather be hazy, and the
atmosphere heavy, then a lesson must be given on some object which
they all frequently see, say, for example, a feather. The feather must
be held up in the hand, or placed in a small niche on the top of a
pointer, so that every child will see it, and it must be moved about
in various directions to arrest their attention. The first lesson
should be pure development, which is to get every idea from the
children relative to the object before you. Explain to them yours; as
for example,
"What is this?" The universal shout will be, "A feather." You may then
ask them, What are its uses? Some little creatures will say, to blow
about; others will say, to cover birds; others will say, to stuff
pillows and beds to sleep upon. Having got all the information out of
them you can in their own simple language, you have acted according to
nature's law, and it is now your turn to infuse additional information
into their minds, and, give them the benefit of your superior
knowledge; which may be done as follows:--You have told me that
feathers are useful to cover birds, it was for this that they were
made by God; they keep the birds warm just in the same way as your
clothes keep you from being cold; and as the poor birds cannot make
themselves clothes as men can, God has given them feathers that they
may not be cold when the bad weather comes. The feathers are useful to
the birds also in flying; the long feathers in a bird's wing keep him
in the air, which he could not fly through if he was covered with
any thing else, because feathers are very light. Seven of the large
feathers out of the great eagle's wing would not weigh more than two
halfpennies. The wings of a bird make him able to fly, and the tail
guides him through the air, just as you may see the men steer boats
with the rudder; and if you pulled the feathers off his tail, he would
not be able to fly near so straight or fast as when they are on. When
the rain falls on the feathers, they are never soaked through with it
as a piece of rag would be if you threw water on it, because they are
covered with a sort of oil which does not let in the water. If you
ever look at a duck dive into the water, you can see it when it comes
up quite dry; but if you dipped you head into the water it would wet
it all over. When little birds, such as the sparrow and canary, come
out of the egg, they have no feathers on, but the old ones cover them
with their wings to keep the cold away, and the feathers soon
grow, and then they can fly away and find food and make nests for
themselves; but large birds, such as the goose, turkey, hen, and duck,
have a sort of soft down on them when they come out of the shell,
and little ducks will go and swim as soon as they are hatched, as I
suppose some of you have seen.
Some birds' feathers are much prettier than others: the goose has not
such pretty feathers as the swan, nor the swan as the peacock; but we
must not think ill of the goose for this, for its flesh is better to
eat than either the peacock or swan. I am sure many of you little
children like roast goose. The peacock has very pretty feathers
indeed, and so has the pheasant, and the drake, and the cock; but some
birds that live in countries many hundred miles away from this, have
much prettier than any bird that lives in this country. This feather
that we have for our lesson is the feather of a goose; it is not very
pretty, but if we examine it well we shall find it is very curious,
and all the men in the world could not make one like it. Goose
feathers are the most useful; the small ones make stuffing for pillows
and beds, and the large ones make pens to write with. Birds change
their feathers often; they drop off and they get new ones; this is
called moulting.
Having thus given the children as much information on the subject as
they will be likely to be able to digest properly, you may then get it
back from them by question and answer; as for instance
Q. What have we been talking about? A. Birds' feathers. Q. Do they do
the birds any good? A. Yes, keep them warm. Q. What more good? A. Make
them able to fly. Q. Who gives the birds feathers to make them warm?
A. God. Q. Are feathers very heavy? A. No, very light. Q. What is the
reason that they are very light? A. That they may fly easily. Q. What
part of the body does a bird fly with? A. Its wings. Q. Is no other
part useful in flying? A. Yes. Q. Do you remember what part? A. Its
tail. Q. Of what use is its tail? A. To guide it. Q. What do you mean
by guiding it? A. Turning it any way it wants to go. Q. What is the
reason that birds' feathers do not get all full of wet when the rain
falls on them? A. Because there is an oily juice that makes the rain
fall off. Q. When little birds, such as sparrows and robins, come out
of the eggs, have they got feathers? A. No, they are naked. Q. Are
they very long naked? A. No, in a few days the feathers grow. Q. Is it
not curious that the cold does not kill the little birds while they
are naked? A. So it would, only the old ones sit over them and keep
them warm. Q. Are ducks and turkeys and hens naked when the come out
of the shell? A. No. Q. What are they covered with? A. A sort of down.
Q. Do you know of any bird that has very pretty feathers? A. Yes, the
peacock. Q. Is it prettier than the goose? A. Yes. Q. Is it so useful?
A. No. Q. What do the goose feathers make? A. The feathers in the
quill make pelts? Q. What do the small ones make? A. They make
stuffing for pillows and beds. Q. Where do the prettiest birds live?
A. In very warm places, far away from this. Q. Do the same feathers
always remain on a bird? A. No, they drop off, and new ones come. Q.
What is this called? A. Moulting.
Such lessons as this will never be forgotten by the little ones. They
will learn to adore the great God at the sight of any thing he has
made. It is hoped they learn to love to read Nature's book when they
grow older, as every correct notion obtained by a child, through a
natural object, which it is frequently accustomed to meet with, can
never be entirely effaced; and what is more, it prepares the way,
at some future time, for a larger amount of knowledge as to God's
revealed will.
A spider, a living specimen of which may be easily procured, may be
made a very instructive gallery lesson; it may prevent the fears and
foolish prejudices against ugly yet harmless insects, which often
remain through life. Part of a bush may be procured with a real web
and spider upon it, so that its beautiful and highly curious web may
be also exhibited to the children, its uses may be also pointed out,
and a short history of the little animal's habits may be given, but
not before their opinions have been taken on the object, which may be
done in a similar manner as that which we pointed out in the former
lesson, and then the teacher may proceed thus:
You have told me that this little creature is called a spider, and
some of you think it very ugly, and say you are afraid of it, but
sensible children will not be frightened at a spider, because they
will remember that they are very harmless little things, and have not
got a sting as the wasp and bee have. They are very ugly, to be sure,
but every ugly insect is not to be called a nasty creature, for some
are very useful, notwithstanding their not being as handsome as
others; and spiders are very useful too, although very few people know
how to make use of them; but they little think that the poor little
insect which they brush off the wall, and trample under their feet,
can tell them what weather they are going to have, as sure, and surer
than a weather-glass. When the weather is going to be fine it peeps
its head out of its hole, and stretches out its legs; and the farther
its legs and head are out, the longer will the fine weather stay. When
the weather is going to be very bad it goes farther back; and when
very dreadful and stormy weather is going to come, it turns its back
to the door of its hole and its head inside. In winter, when frost and
snow is going to commence, they make their webs very fast, and by this
you may know the frosty weather is coming; so you see, children, that
spiders may be useful to know what kind of weather we shall have.
Spiders are very cunning; they live on flies; but they could never
catch them, only they are able to weave a strong web, which they do in
a place where the flies often come; and when a poor fly gets into the
web, the spider runs out and soon kills it, and then drags it up to
his den, where he eats it at his ease, and hides the wings and skin,
that the other flies may not see them; but if an enemy stronger than
itself comes to his web, the spider remains in his hole till the
danger is all over. Some spiders that live in countries far away are a
great deal larger and uglier than our spiders; but we need not be ever
afraid of a spider, because they can neither bite nor sting us, and
are very curious insects. Q. What have I been telling you about? A.
The spider. Q. Are you afraid of it? A. No, you told us it would do
us no harm. Q. Are spiders very ugly? A. They are. Q. Should we think
badly of them for this? A. No. Q. Who made the spider? A. God. Q. Does
he not make every animal, whether handsome or ugly? A. Yes. Q. Can
spiders be of use? A. They will tell us what weather we are going to
have. Q. When it is going to be fine what do they do? A. They put
their legs and head out of their hole. Q. When it is going to be bad
weather what do they do? A. They turn their heads round and go into
their holes. Q. When the weather is going to be very cold and frosty
what do they do? A. They build their webs very fast. Q. What do they
live upon? A. Flies. Q. How do they catch them? A. By making webs. Q.
When a fly gets into their web what do they do? A. They kill it and
eat it. Q. Are the spiders in other countries larger than ours? A.
Yes, in some places they are much larger and uglier. Q. Who teaches
the spider to make its web? A. God. Q. Could any man in the world make
a spider's web? A. No, no one could do it.
The teacher may then add thus:--Thus you see, little children, that
every living thing has some merit of its own, and can do many things
which we cannot do, although God has given us the means to become so
much wiser than they; and be sure you are not frightened at them, nor
put them to unnecessary pain. Some other day I will tell you what is
the shape of the spider's web, and shew you what a number of regular
figures the spider's web is composed of.
Almost every object, however simple it may be, will form an
instructive gallery lesson; thus for example, you may take a piece of
bog-turf, and after submitting it to the inspection of the infants,
you may inquire, What is this? If it be in a country where turf is
used, a general exclamation will inform you of its name; if not, you
may find a better and more familiar object for your lesson. When you
have got the name, you may then ask its uses, and will soon find that
the children are well acquainted with them. You may then proceed
to give your own information on the subject in something like the
following words, taking care that you use no word that the children do
not themselves understand, or that you have not explained to them.
Little children, look at what I hold. You have told me it is a piece
of bog-turf, and it is used to make fires. In Ireland turf is more
used to make fires than coal, because it is very plentiful there, and
many of the poor people in Ireland build their houses of it, and
when they keep them well mended and covered, they are very warm and
comfortable, and they burn good turf fires in their turf houses; but
some of them are lazy, and do not keep their turf houses mended, so
the rain comes in, and they are very miserable, and so will all idle
lazy people be. I hope no little child here will be lazy, Now I will
tell you where they get all this turf, they dig it out of the bogs.
There are bogs in England; they call them mosses or fens, and in
Scotland there are bogs, but the bogs in Ireland are much more
plentiful. Some of them are so very large that you cannot see across
them, and a great many birds live amongst them, such as wild ducks,
and geese, and cranes, and herons, and snipe, all of which I will tell
you about some other time. Those great bogs are very wild, lonesome,
dreary places; no person can live on them, because they are so wet and
soft, and they are full of great deep holes with water in them, which
are called bog holes, and if any person fell in they would be drowned.
Sometimes in the middle of this great bog you will see a pretty green
island, where the land is firm and strong, and the grass is nice and
sweet, so that the poor people make a dry path across the wet bog to
these islands, that they may drive their cows, and goats, and horses
to feed there; and some of these islands are very pretty places, and
look so green in the centre of the black bog. Those bogs which are now
such wet, black, nasty places, were once forests of great trees, as
large as any you children ever saw, and pretty bright rivers ran
through those forests, and nice birds sang in the branches, and great
stags eat the grass underneath; we will read about the stag at some
other time. This was many hundred years ago, and there were very few
people living then in Ireland, and by degrees, when the trees got very
old, they began to fall down into the rivers and stopped them up, so
that the water could not flow on, and the rivers overflowed all the
nice forests, and the trees all fell, so that when some hundred years
passed they were all down, and the branches rotted, and the grass and
clay became wet, like sponge, and the whole of the nice shady forests
of great trees became what we call bogs, and the remains of those
pretty branches and leaves, where the birds used to sing so sweetly,
has become turf, like this piece which we have for a lesson; and when
men are cutting this turf out, they often find the great trunks of
those trees, that many hundred years ago were so green and beautiful,
quite black and ugly, but still so hard that they can scarcely be cut,
and these old trees are called bog-oak, and the cabinet-maker buys
them and makes them into beautiful chairs, and tables, and presses,
and many other things, and they are quite black, and when polished you
little children might see your faces in them. Thus you see, my little
children, that there is nothing which God has made which is not very
wonderful and curious, even this piece of bog-turf, which you would
not have heard about if you did not come to the infant school to learn
about so many useful and curious things.
This will perhaps be enough of information for one lesson; and having
thus infused it in an agreeable form into their minds, you may proceed
in the manner before mentioned to get it back from them, in order to
impress it more firmly on their understandings; and if this be always
done in the proper manner, they will become as familiar with the
subject, and learn it as quickly as they would the tissue of nonsense
contained in the common nursery tales of "Jack and Jill," or, "the old
woman and her silver penny," whose only usefulness consists in their
ability to amuse, but from which no instruction can be possibly drawn;
beside which, they form in the child's mind the germ of that passion
for light reading which afterwards, in many instances, prevents an
application to any thing solid or instructive. Being in themselves the
foundation stone on which a huge and useless mass of fiction is piled
in after years, the philosophical mind will at once perceive the
advantage of our system of amusement mingled with instruction,
and perceive that upon its simple basis a noble structure may be
afterwards raised; and minds well stored with useful lore, and
capable of discerning evil in whatever shape it presents itself, and
extracting honey from every object, will be farmed, which, when they
become numerous, will cause a glorious change in the moral world, the
first germ of which will be traced to the properly managed gallery
lessons of an infant school. Having asked the children if they are
tired, the teacher, if he receives an answer in the negative, may thus
proceed:--
Q. What have we been hearing about? A. Turf. Q. What is the use of
turf? A. To make fires. Q. What other use is sometimes made of it? A.
To build houses. Q. Where do they build turf houses? A. In Ireland. Q.
Are they not very cold? Q. No; if they are kept mended, they are not.
Q. What do you call people, when they like to sleep in the cold rather
than mend their houses? A. Lazy. Q. Is it bad to be lazy? A. Yes; very
bad. Q. What do we call it besides being lazy? Q. Being idle. Q. Are
idle people very happy? A. No; they are always miserable. Q. Right;
and I hope no little children will be ever idle; they should always
try to be useful, and do all they can to help their friends. Now tell
me, where is the turf got From? A. From bogs. Q. What are they called
in England? A. Mosses and fens. Q. Are the bogs in England larger than
in Ireland? A. No; the Irish bogs are the largest. Q. What animals
live in the bogs? A. Some sorts of birds. Q. Do men and women live in
them? A. No. Q. Why not? A. They are too wet and soft. Q. What very
dangerous places are in some parts of them? A. Bog-holes. Q. What are
they? A. Deep holes full of water. Q. What did I tell you were in some
parts of these bogs? A. Nice green islands. Q. Are they of any use? A.
Yes; the people put cows and horses to feed on them. Q. How do they
get across the bog? A. They make a kind of rough road over to them. Q.
What do they cut the turf with? A. A sort of spade with two sides. Q.
What is this called? A. A Slane. Q. When the turf is cut, what do they
do next? A. Put it in heaps to dry. Q. What were those great bogs many
hundred years ago? A. Beautiful forests of fine large trees. Q. What
flowed through those forests? A. Nice bright rivers. Q. What sang in
the trees? A. Pretty birds. Q. What eat the grass? A. Fine large stags
and deer. Q. How did those beautiful places become ugly black wet
bogs? A. The trees, when they got old, fell into the rivers and
stopped them up. Q. What did this cause? A. The water flowed over the
banks. Q. What harm did this do? A. It made all the nice grass wet and
marshy. Q. What more? A. It rotted the roots of the trees. Q. What
happened then? A. They all fell down. Q. In some hundred years, what
did all those forests become? A. Great bogs. Q. Are any of the trunks
or bodies of those old trees ever found? A. Yes; many hundreds are yet
far under the bogs. Q. Are they of any use? A. Yes; they are useful to
make chairs, tables, and presses. Q. What colour are they? A. As black
as a piece of coal. Q. When they are polished, do they look nice? A.
Yes; so bright you can see your face in them. Q. What is this wood
called? A. Bog-oak. Q. Will you all try to remember this lesson? A.
We will. Teacher. That is right; for little children should always
remember the pretty things that their teacher takes such trouble to
tell them.
In places where coal is most burned, a piece of it may be made the
medium of a very useful and instructive lesson, being so familiar an
object, their attention will be arrested by its being made the subject
of a lesson; and their curiosity aroused to know every thing about
it. When the teacher asks what is this, the simultaneous shout, of
"a piece of coal," will convince him that he has arrested their
attention; and a few questions will exhaust their stock of information
on the subject--they will tell him its uses are to make fires to boil
up their dinners, &c. &c. He may then proceed as follows:--You see,
little children, this piece of coal; look at it attentively; it is
black and shining; and you all know will burn very quickly. The places
from whence all coal is brought are called _coal mines_; the men who
dig it out of the ground, and the ships that carry it over the sea,
are called colliers, and the place where the coals are got is called
a colliery. The coal mines are deep holes made very far under the
ground, in order to get at the coal; some of them go under the sea.
The colliers live a great part of their life, in those dark holes,
in order to get us coal to make us fires to dress our food, and very
often are killed, either by the falling in of the roof from above, or
from a sort of air called fire-damp, which, if touched with any fire,
will blow up like gunpowder, and will kill any person that is near it;
the poor colliers are also often smothered by the bad air that is in
those damp, dark holes; so you see, little children, what dangers they
go through, in order to get us coal, which we could very badly do
without.
How very good God is to us; he made this coal under the earth that we
might have nice fires to dress our food, and warm ourselves by in
cold weather; we should be very thankful to him for all his great
blessings, and should never do anything to make him angry with us; he
is very sorry when he sees a little child naughty, because he has done
every thing to make us happy, and we never can be so if we are naughty
and bad. Bad boys and girls are never happy, and God does not love
them when they are so, and it is very sad to make God angry with us.
Coal is very useful for other things besides making fires to dress our
food, and to warm us. Many things that are very useful could not be
made without it. The gas that lights the streets is made from coal,
and when the gas is taken from it what is left is called coke, which
makes a very bright warm fire.
The teacher that properly enters into the spirit of these lessons, may
find in the simplest objects, a never-ending source of pleasure and
instruction for his infant pupils. No person who is not qualified to
give proper and really useful gallery lessons is by any means fit for
a teacher of infants; to learn the mere routine of an infant school is
not very difficult, but this will be of no avail if the teacher have
not qualifications of a much higher order, which will enable him
continually to pour instruction clothed in simple language, into
the minds of his pupils; simplicity is the life and soul of gallery
teaching; without this, the breath is wasted, and time is spent in
vain. To teach infants we must reduce our language to their tender
capacities, and become, in idea and words, one of themselves. Having
given the children your information on a piece of coal, you now
proceed to get it back, as follows
Q. Little children, what have we been speaking about? A. About coal.
Q. What colour is it? A. Black. Q. Is it anything besides? A. Yes;
shining. Q. What are the places called from whence coal is got? A.
Coal-mines. Q. What are the men that dig it out of the ground and the
ships that carry it over the sea called? A. Colliers. Q. What is the
place called where the coal pits are made? A. A colliery. Q. What are
coal pits? A. Deep holes dug to get at the coal. Q. Are the colliers
in danger down in these deep pits? A. They are. Q. From what? A.
From fire-damp? Q. What is it? A. A sort of air that blows up like
gun-powder. Q. From what more are they in danger? A. The roofs falling
in. Q. From what more? A. From bad air which often smothers them. Q.
What is made from coal to light the streets? A. Gas. Q. What is coal
called after the gas has been taken from it? A. Coke. Q. Does coke
make a good fire? A. Yes; very bright and strong. Q. Who made the
coal? A. God. Q. What should we be to him for it? A. Very thankful. Q.
How can we shew we are thankful? A. By being very good. Q. Is God
glad to see a child naughty? A. No; he is very sorry. Q. Does he love
naughty children? A. No; he does not. Q. Are naughty children happy?
A. No; very unhappy. Thus every lesson may be made not only a vehicle
for conveying instruction, but also of instilling into the infant mind
a reverence, a sense of gratitude and love towards that great Being
who called us all into existence; this should be never lost sight of,
in giving the child those primary sentiments, reverence and gratitude
towards its God, you lay a basis on which doctrinal religion may be
afterwards built with more advantage. The child thus early trained in
such feelings, conveyed in a manner so admirably adapted to its tender
mind, can scarcely fail, unless it possesses a heart of great natural
depravity, of becoming a good man, and it is thus that infant schools
may become a great and lasting blessing to the country. But where
this is overlooked--where the vital principle of the infant system
is rejected, and the mere mechanical parts alone retained, as to any
great and lasting benefit, it will be a complete and unhappy failure.
That the grand object of the infant system may be accomplished,
namely, of raising up a generation superior to the last, both in
religious, moral, and intellectual acquirements, an immense caution
and great experience in the selection of teachers is required; till
proper teachers are universally provided the infant system will never
be really successful: success does not merely consist in universal
adoption and extension, if it did it would be now really so. But
another thing is wanting before it can be called successful, that is,
it must be understood.
None can understand it but thinkers, and deep thinkers, and thinkers
in the right direction. Merely to glance around and gather scraps of
knowledge from the various, "ologies" in existence, which the "march
of intellect" has brought into being, and which were unknown to our
forefathers; and then to force them on the young memory at random, may
be to teach what was not before taught, but it is not to display any
_new method of teaching; any more efficient way of communicating
knowledge_. Those who would truly understand the infant system, must
think for themselves, and observe the workings of the young mind, mark
the intellectual principles which first develope themselves, strive to
understand the simple laws of mental action; and all this that they
may know how to teach in accordance with them. When this is fairly
done, perhaps the whole that is recorded in this book, may be thought
more valuable than it is at present, and be found a not unworthy
subject to devote a whole life to become acquainted with and elucidate
both practically and theoretically. Others then will, perhaps, not be
quite so audacious in unjust plagiarisms. When Columbus had made
the egg stand on an end all others could then do it. When he had
discovered America, every one said they might have done it also. All
great and important truths are simple, and when presented to the mind,
although unknown before, seem as if they had been well known, there is
such an accurate consistency between the mind and them. This leads me
to suppose that there is simple and useful truths in my volumes, as
every one seems to take them for their own. I can only say that they
have cost _me_ many and many an hour of close observation, and deep
and independent thinking. I have devoted my whole life for the good
of others, and have injured myself and family, that I might do so. To
rescue little children from vice and misery, and to have them placed
under physical, intellectual, moral, and religious discipline, has
been the delight of my heart, and the object of my life. After this
labour, to have my inventions pirated, my plans made use of in part,
and in the rest spoken against; to have others to reap the fields that
I have sown, and at the same time traduce and injure me; to be thus
thrust out as it were from my rightful employment, and left in
comparative obscurity as old age begins to draw on; requires a spirit
stronger than that of man, and a heart more than human, not to feel
it, and feel it deeply. I care little for myself, but regret most to
see spurious systems of infant education palmed upon the public by
ignorant persons, and thus deprive them of a great benefit which they
might possess.
Facts recorded in Scripture may be given orally as gallery lessons,
taking care to exhibit some picture representing the subject proposed
for the lesson--take, for example, the finding of Moses--which
represents the daughter of Pharaoh coming down to bathe with her
maidens, and also the infant Moses in the ark, cradle, or boat, which
was made for the purpose. The subject is then to be propounded to the
children as follows, and the teacher is to take care to repeat it
clearly and distinctly in short sentences, and to be careful that
all the pupils repeat it as distinctly after him; by thus means the
essence of the story is infused into the minds of the children, with
the addition of their being taught to repeat all the words distinctly
and properly, which will assist their pronunciation very much when
they begin to read the lesson described in another part of this work.
"And the daughter of Pharaoh came down to wash herself at the river,
and her maidens walked along by the river's side, and when she saw the
ark among the flags she sent her maid to fetch it, and when she had
opened it she saw the child, and behold the babe wept. And she had
compassion on him; and said, This is one of the Hebrews' children.
Then said his sister to Pharaoh's daughter, Shall I go and call to
thee a nurse of the Hebrew women, that she may nurse the child for
thee? And Pharaoh's daughter said to her, Go; and the maid went and
called the child's mother. And Pharaoh's daughter said unto her, Take
this child away and nurse it for me, and I will give thee thy wages;
and the woman took the child and nursed it, and the child grew, and
she brought hum unto Pharaoh's daughter, and he became her son, and
she called his name Moses: and she said, Because I drew him out of the
water."--_Exodus_ ii.
Q. What does this picture represent? A. The finding of Moses. Q. Who
came down to wash herself at the river? A. Pharaoh's daughter. Q. Who
was Pharaoh? A. The king of Egypt. Q. What is Egypt? A. A country in
Africa. Q. What is Africa? A. A part of the earth on which we live. Q.
Where did her maidens walk? A. They walked along by the river's side.
Q. When Pharaoh's daughter saw the ark amongst the flags, what did she
do? A. She sent her maid to fetch it. Q. And when she opened it, what
did she see. A. She saw the child. Q. What was the ark? A. A sort of
boat made of rushes, such as grow in the river. Q. Would not the water
get into this? A. No; it was kept dry inside by pitch and slime. Q.
What were the flags that the ark was among? A. A sort of plant that
grows in rivers. Q. Did the child laugh? A. No; it wept, and she had
compassion on him. Q. And what did she say? A. This is one of the
Hebrews' children. Q. What did his sister say to Pharaoh's daughter?
A. Shall I go and call to thee a nurse of the Hebrew women? Q. What is
meant by his sister? A. The sister of Moses who stood to watch what
would become of him. Q. What did she ask to call a nurse for? A. To
nurse the child. Q. What did Pharaoh's daughter say? A. Go. Q. Who
did the maid fetch? A. The child's mother. Q. When she came what did
Pharaoh's daughter say to her? A. Take this child away and nurse it
for me. Q. And what did she say she would give her? A. Her wages. Q.
Did the woman take the child? A. Yes; and nursed it. Q. What became of
the child? A. It grew, and she brought it unto Pharaoh's daughter, and
it became her son. Q. What name did she give him? A. She called his
name Moses. Q. What for? A. Because she drew hum out of the water.
Q. Look at this picture, what is the girl holding over Pharaoh's
daughter's head? A. A sort of umbrella. Q. What is she holding it up
for? A. To keep away the heat of the sun. Q. Were there slaves in
those days? A. Yes. Q. Is the little girl holding the umbrella meant
to represent a slave? A. Yes. Q. Do you know what a slave is? A. A
person who is taken from his home and made to work for nothing and
against his wills.
Christ with the doctors in the temple, forms, when given as explained,
a good gallery lesson--thus:
"And it came to pass that after those days she found him in the temple
sitting in the midst of the doctors, both hearing them and asking them
questions; and all that heard him were astonished at his understanding
and answers. And when they saw him they were amazed, and his mother
said unto him, Son, why hast thou thus dealt with us? Behold, thy
father and I have sought thee sorrowing. And he said unto them, How
is it that ye sought me? Wist ye not that I must be about my Father's
business. And they understood not the saying which he spake unto them.
And he went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was subject unto
them; but his mother kept all these sayings in _her heart_: and
Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and
man."--_Luke_ ii. 46-52.
Q. Where did they find him? A. In the temple. Q. Sitting in the midst
of whom? A. Of the doctors. Q. What was he doing there? A. Hearing and
asking them questions. Q. And they were astonished at his, what? A.
Understanding and answers. Q. What did Jesus' mother say unto him? A.
Son, why hast thou thus dealt with us? Q. What more did she say? A.
Thy father and I have sought thee sorrowing. Q. What did Jesus say
unto her? A. He said, how is it that ye sought me? Q. Did he say
anything more? A. Yes; wist ye not that I must be about my father's
business. Q. What is the meaning of wist ye not? A. Know ye not. Q.
When Jesus went with them, where did they come to? A. To Nazareth? Q.
What is Nazareth? A. A town in Asia. Q. His mother kept those sayings,
where? A. In her heart. Q. In what did Jesus increase? A. In wisdom
and stature. Q. What do you mean by increasing in stature? A. Growing
larger.
Many books of scripture stories have been written for children, but
it is far best to select simple and suitable passages from the sacred
volume, and have them properly illustrated by coloured plates. By
this method the children become acquainted with the very letter of
scripture. Written stories often leave very wrong impressions; and the
history of David and Goliah has been given in an infant school, so
that it would make an excellent counterpart to Jack, the giant
killer. Surely such things ought never to be! Abundance of historical
portions, full of moral and religious instruction, and such as are
calculated from their simplicity and beauty, to deeply impress the
minds of children, can be selected from both Testaments; but the
miracles and parables of our Saviour constitute the richest store.
MORAL TRAINING.
One of the grand aims of the infant system was intended to improve
the system of moral training. The great deficiency in our systems of
education, with respect to moral training, is truly lamentable, from
the highest down to the lowest schools in the land. There is room for
immense improvement in this matter, it is hardly possible to visit a
school and witness proper efforts made on this important subject; and
never will education produce the glorious effects anticipated from
it, until this subject is legislated for and well understood by the
public; and I pray to God that he will enable me to use arguments in
this chapter to prove effective in the minds of my readers, so as to
induce them to co-operate with me to produce another state of things.
In these days there is much said about education; it has at last
arrested the attention of parliament; and through them, the
government, and, as it should be, through the government, the
sovereign. Thus is truly encouraging and will act as a stimulus to
practical men to develop a system workable in all its parts, and thus
carry out the views and benevolent intentions of the legislature.
Infant education, however, must be the basis, this is beginning at
the right end; if errors are committed here the superstructure is
of little avail. The foundation of moral training must be laid in
infancy, it cannot be begun too soon, and is almost always commenced
too late. Mere infants can understand the doing as they would be done
by; no child likes to be deprived of its play-things, his little toys,
or any thing which he considers his property; he will always punish
the aggressor if he can, and if he cannot he will cry, or put himself
in a passion, or seek aid from his parents, or any other source
where he thinks he may get justice done to him. Little children have
beautiful ideas on this subject, and would have, if properly trained,
correct notions as to the rights of property; to teach them to respect
the property of others, and even to respect themselves, is far
preferable to cramming their memories with good rules in theory; this
was the old plan; we have proof that it has not worked well. The new
plan must operate upon the will, it must influence the heart of the
child; this is the Scripture plan, which continually refers to the
heart, and not so much to the head. Every opportunity must be allowed
the child to develop its character; to do this it must be associated
with its fellows; if the child is a solitary being, his faculties
cannot be drawn out, it is in society only they can be beneficially
acted upon, and it is in the company of its fellows, that it will
shew its true character and disposition; hence the necessity of moral
training. There should be temptations placed within reach of the
children, such as fruits, flowers, and shrubs. The child taught to
respect these will set due bounds to his desire, gardens will cease to
be robbed, hedges will not be broken down, turnips and potatoes will
not be stolen to the extent which is but too prevalent in the present
day. And I am perfectly convinced that every pound the country spends
in promoting a rightly directed education, will be saved in the
punishment of crime, which in a political point of view, is quite
sufficient to induce the country to call for a properly directed
system of national education, which must ultimately be based on the
oracles of eternal truth. If these ends could be obtained by theory,
we have plenty of that in these days. All the writers on education
tell us that such and such things should be done, but most of them
that I have read, forget to tell us how to do it. They complain of
the schools already in existence, they complain of the teachers, they
complain of the apathy upon the subject; all of which is very easy.
And I regret to say there is but too much cause for all these
complaints; but this will not remedy the evil, we must have new plans
for moral training; teachers must have greater encouragements held out
to them; they must take their proper rank in society, which I contend
is next to the clergy; and, until these things take place, we may go
on complaining, as talented men will sooner devote themselves to any
profession rather than to the art of teaching.
We will now endeavour to show how these things are to be remedied, so
far as moral training is applicable to infants from twelve months old
to six or seven years. In another part of this work, we have shewn
what may and ought to be done in the play-ground; in this chapter
we will endeavour to shew what may be done to this end in the
school-room. In the pages on gallery teaching we have given specimens
of lessons on natural objects and scriptural subjects. Moral training
may receive considerable aid from gallery teaching also; the children
must not only be continually told what they ought to do, but as often
what they ought not to do; they must be told that they are not to
fight, and the reasons must be given; they must be told that they are
not to throw stones, and also told the consequences; they must be told
not to strike each other with sticks; they must be told not to play in
the dirt; they must be trained in cleanly and delicate habits; they
must not only be told all these things; but they must be watched in
their private hours, they must be encouraged to assist and love each
other, and it must _be proved_ to them that this is the way to advance
their own individual happiness. It is self-love that is the cause of
half our miseries. Children cannot be told this too soon; it must be
explained _and proved_ to them that evil, sooner or latter, brings its
own punishment, and that goodness as assuredly brings its own reward.
Opportunities will be continually developing themselves for giving
moral training to the children, the judicious teacher will seize these
as they occur, and always make the best of them for the good of
the children. A school is a family upon a large scale; nay, 'tis a
commonwealth, and no day will pass without facts shewing themselves,
to enable the teacher to give sound moral instruction. It is true we
want a better race of teachers, but we must have a better sort of
schools first; for it is only from these that a better race of
teachers can be supplied. The well trained infants of this generation,
will make the efficient teachers of the next.
We will suppose the children to be seated in the gallery, the doors of
the school closed, and every thing snug and quiet; _the teacher must
be alone_, and there must be nothing to distract the children's
attention. He must then bring out his store of facts which he has
noted down as they occurred; he makes his selection according to
circumstances, according to the state of his own mind; not forgetting
the state of mind that the children may be in, and especially the
state of the weather. The following little ditty may then be repeated,
the subject being On Cruelty to Animals.
I'll never hurt my little dog,
But stroke and pat his head;
I love to see him wag his tail,
I like to see him fed.
Poor little thing, how very good
And very useful too;
And do you know? that he will mind
What he is bid to do.
Then I will never hurt my dog,
Nor ever give him pain,
But I will always treat him kind,
And he will love again.
If the children do not appear so bright as the teacher should desire,
the before-mentioned ditty, after it has been repeated, may be sung.
But the tune must be such as would be likely to operate upon the moral
feelings; great caution and circumspection is necessary in selecting
proper times for children, and this must be guided by the subject
treated of. If the subject is exhilarating, a lively tune must be
selected; if the subject is serious, a corresponding tune must also be
chosen; but if the subject is intended to operate upon the feelings,
what is usually called "_a love tune_" will be the most desirable. The
tune having been sung, and the feelings operated upon as desired, the
teacher may entertain the little pupils with some one of the numerous
stories written about the dog. But before he does this, he must
exhaust so much of the subject as appears in the before-mentioned
ditty, by question and answer, similar to the other lessons mentioned
before, something like the following:--
Little children; you have just sung that you would never hurt a little
dog, can you tell me why not? Some of the children will be sure to
say, Please, sir, because he has got the sense of feeling. Teacher.
Right, a little dog has got the same sense of feeling as you little
children have, and when it is hurt, how does it shew that it has got
the sense of feeling? Children. Please, sir, it will cry out. Teacher.
Yes, it can only tell us it is hurt by doing so. A poor dog cannot
speak, and so we should never hurt it. Has a little fly the sense of
feeling? Children. Yes, sir. Teacher. Right again, and so has every
creature that God gave life to, and we should never give any of them
unnecessary pain. In the song that we have just sung, you said you
would stroke and pat the little dog's head. What would you do this
for? Children. Please, sir, the little dog likes it, and he is not
afraid of us when we do it, but loves us. Teacher. So he does, and
will always love those that are kind to him; no one but a very bad boy
would be unkind to a dog. You told me, little children, that a poor
little dog cries out when it is hurt. Now when he is pleased, what
does he do? Please, sir, he wags his tail, and his eyes look very
bright. Teacher. So he does, which is the same as if he said, How
happy I am to be with such good children who do not beat me as some
wicked boys and girls would, but love me and pat my head, and feed me;
for you, little children, you have said you liked to see your little
dog fed, and remember, any of you that have a little dog, or who may
have one when you get older and larger, that it is very cruel not to
see it fed every day; the poor dog cannot ask for its dinner as a
little child can, and that is the, very reason why we should always
remember to give it to him. Will you all remember this? Children. Yes,
sir, we will. Teacher. You sung in your song that the dog was very
useful, tell me how? Children, Please, sir, he will mind the house,
and bark when any one comes to steal anything. Teacher. Yes, you see
how sensible the little dog is, he knows what a wicked thing it is to
be a thief, and so he barks when he sees one. How else is a little
dog useful? Children. Please, sir, they often lead poor blind people
about. Teacher. So they do, and good faithful guides they are. When
they see any danger they will lead their master out of it, and they
will bring him safely through the crowded streets; and when they go
home the poor blind man divides his bit of bread with his good dog;
and dogs are useful in other ways, they catch hares and rabbits for
their masters, and do many other things. You said also that the dog
minded what he was bid to do, did you not? Children. Yes, sir, and
they will often go back a long way for any thing they are bid, or stay
all day minding their master's coat while he is at work. Teacher.
Right, and little children when they will not do as they are desired
are not so good as a little dog, and should take example by one. Do
you remember what you said the dog would do if you treated him kindly?
Children. Please, sir, that he would love us again. Teacher. Right.
When we love any thing, a dog, or a horse, or a little lamb, it will
love us again; for you know, little children, that love makes love,
and if you all love one another, and are kind to one another, and
never beat or strike each other with any thing, then you will all be
very happy, no little children in the world will be more happy, or
have prettier smiling faces than you will have; for when we look kind
and pleasant we always look pretty, but when we look cross and angry,
then we look ugly and frightful. Remember then, never be cruel to a
dog, or any thing else, but think of this lesson, and the pretty song
we sung. Now, little children, shall I tell you a story, a real true
story about a very cruel boy? If the children say, Yes, the following
may be related.
A poor little dog was once going along the streets of a town, and a
carriage which was coming up the street very fast, ran over it, and
the poor thing was very nearly killed, but it had still strength to
crawl over to a house where a boy was standing at the door, and it
began to whine and looked up in the boy's face, as if to say, you see
how much I am hurt, so please take me in and try and cure me; but the
boy was a very cruel boy, and had no pity on the poor dog, but took a
large pot of boiling water and threw it over the poor wounded little
dog, so that it died soon after in very dreadful pain. But the chief
governor of the place, that is, the person whom the king had put there
to punish wicked people, heard of what a cruel thing this bad boy had
done. So he brought him up to the market place, and he made a man take
off this cruel boy's clothes, and lash him on the bare back before all
the people of the town, in order that he might know a little of the
pain that the poor dog had felt. From this story, little children, you
may learn, that you must not begin to be cruel, if you do, the habit
will grow up with you as it did with this bigger boy, and will never
leave you, even when you are men.
Such lessons as these, given at proper times and when the infant mind
is in a fit state to receive them, will do more to prevent what you
wish to avoid, than any thing which could be possibly done at a more
advanced age; this is indeed moral training, and when such is given
generally in infant schools, we may look forward to a generation very
superior to the present, in the genuine parts of Christianity, and in
every moral and social virtue.
The beneficial results of moral training have been practically shown
in every infant school where the subject has been properly understood
and carried out, and numerous anecdotes illustrative of its beneficial
effects might be here introduced, which would convince those who have
any doubt on the subject, of the good effects of exercising kindness
and consideration for others, in opposition to reckless mischief,
hardheartedness, and cruelty, vices which render the lower orders
dangerous and formidable; but as a complete collection of such
anecdotes would form in themselves a volume, we will for the present
lay before our readers a few taken at random, to illustrate the
subject; they are from the appendix of the first report of the
Edinburgh Infant School Society, the model school of which was
organized by the author of this book.
"Two of the children, brothers, about five and four years of age,
coming one morning late into school, were to go to their seats without
censure, if they could give an account of what they had been doing,
which should be declared satisfactory by the whole school, who should
decide; they stated separately that they had been contemplating
the proceedings of a large caterpillar, and noticing the different
positions of its body as it crossed their path, that it was now
horizontal, and now perpendicular, and presently curved, and finally
inclined, when it escaped into a tree. The master then asked them
abruptly, Why did you not kill it? The children stared. _Could_ you
have killed it? asked the teacher. Yes, but that would have been
cruel and naughty, and a sin against God. The little moralists were
acquitted by acclamation; having, infants as they were, manifested a
character which, were it universal in the juvenile population, would
in another generation reduce our moral code to a mass of waste paper,
in one grand department of its bulk.
"This anecdote illustrates the good effect of inculcating into the
infant mind an abhorrence of cruelty to animals, which is too often a
seed sown in the young heart, which goes on increasing daily with
the growth of the child, until a fearful career of crime is ended by
murder, and its necessary expiation on the scaffold. How many men who
have suffered death for murder, could date their first steps towards
it, from the time when in infancy they tortured a fly, or spun a
cock-chaffer.
"The teacher mentioned to the children one day, that he had been
occupied about a boy and a girl who had no father or mother, and whose
grandfather and grandmother, who took care of them, were bed-rid and
in great poverty. The boy was seven years of age, too old for the
infant school, but some gentlemen, he said, were exerting themselves
to get the boy into one of the hospitals. Here he purposely stopped
to try the sympathies of his audience for the girl. He was not
disappointed, several little voices called out at once, '_Oh! master!_
What for no the lassie too?' he assured them the girl was to come to
the infant school, and to be boarded there; which intelligence was
received with loud plaudits."
Here we see the seeds of philanthropy sown in the young mind,
beginning, even in infancy, to burst and blossom forth, giving promise
in after years of a glorious and abundant harvest. The germ of love
and mercy is in every breast, and cannot fail to be developed, if
early called into action; and by the blessing of Almighty God, who
is the great First Cause of all good results, the day is fast
approaching, yea, is now at hand, when the fierce passions, the love
of self, the long catalogues of debasing crimes, which have so long
disgraced human nature, will give way before a golden age of true
Christianity; when man will not be arrayed against his fellow-men, but
all will go hand in hand together in the bond of love, seeking to do
good, and to accomplish the purposes for which they were created by an
all-wise and all-benevolent God.
The following anecdote illustrates the subject still further:--
"One day, when the children were in the play-ground, four boys
occupied the boys' circular swing, while a stranger gentleman was
looking on with the teacher. Conscious of being looked at, the little
fellows were wheeling round with more than usual swiftness and
dexterity, when a little creature of two or three years made a sudden
dart forward into their very orbit, and in an instant must have
been knocked down with great force. With a presence of mind and
consideration, and with a mechanical skill,--which to admire most we
knew not, one of the boys, about five years old, used the instant of
time in which the singular movement was practicable, threw his whole
body into a horizontal position, and went clear over the infant's
head. But this was not all; in the same well employed instant it
occurred to him that that movement was not enough to save the little
intruder, as he himself was to be followed as quick as thought by the
next swinger; for this he provided, by dropping his own feet to the
ground, and stopping the whole machine the instant he had cleared the
child's head. The spectator of this admirable specimen of intellect
and good feeling, which was all necessarily the thought and act of a
moment, had his hand instinctively in his pocket for a shilling, but
was stopped by the teacher, who disowns all inferior motives for acts
of kindness and justice. The little hero, however, had his reward,
for the incident was related by the teacher in a full school, in the
presence of the strangers, and was received with several rounds of
hearty applause."
We will quote another anecdote illustrative of the good effects of
exercising the kindly feelings.
J.J. accused H.S. of having eaten up J.J.'s dinner. It was proved by
several witnesses that H.S. not only appropriated the dinner, but used
force: the charge being proved to the satisfaction of the _jury_ (the
whole school), the same tribunal were requested by the teacher to
decide what should be the consequence to the convict. One orator rose,
and suggested that as H.S. had not yet eat his own dinner, he ought
to give it to J.J. This motion, for the children always welcome
any reasonable substitute for corporal punishment, was carried by
acclamation. When one o'clock came, and the dinner was handed over,
"_coram publico_," to J.J., H.S. was observed by him to be in tears,
and lingering near his _own_ dinner. They were by this time nearly
done, but the teacher was watching the result. The tears were too much
for J.J., who went to H.S., threw his arms round his neck, told him
not to cry, but to sit down and take half. This invitation was of
course accepted by H.S., who manifested a great inferiority of
character to the other, and furnished an example of the blindness of
the unjust to the justice of retribution, which they always feel to
mere revenge and cruelty. He could not bear to see J.J. even sharing
_his_ dinner, and told him with bitterness that he would tell his
mother. "Weel, weel!" said the generous child, "I'll gin y'd a'
back again." Of course the teacher interfered to prevent this gross
injustice, and in the afternoon made their school-fellows perfectly
aware of the part each had acted. It is not easy to render a character
like H.S. liberal, but a long course of such practice, for precept is
impotent in such cases, might modify what in after life would have
turned out a selfish, unjust, and unsocial character.
This selfish principle it is the great object of moral training to
combat against. We may trace almost all the misery in the world to it;
and until it ceases to exist to the extent which it now does, little
can be done to accomplish any good or great purpose. But lessons like
the above, and received into the infant mind when in a receptive
state, will, if proper advantage be taken of their occurrence, prove
in the hands of the Almighty a powerful engine for the removal of
selfishness; and we know of no method so effectual to accomplish this
object as the drawing infants into societies, which is done only in
infant schools.
The following anecdote, bearing on the same subject, came under the
observation of the author of this work, very early in his labour for
the extension of his system. He gives it here in the same words as he
communicated it to a friend at the time of its occurrence.
A few days since I went to the Boston Street school; the children were
in the gallery, and the moment I entered, they rose to receive me.
When the school was over, the children came around me, as they usually
do, saying, When will you come again? and so on. I told them I could
not tell, but that I would come as soon as I could. This answer would
not satisfy them, and I talked to them until near six o'clock in
the evening. One little girl, about four years old, kept looking
stedfastly at me the whole time, not letting a single word or gesture
escape her notice. At last I finished my observations, and desired the
children to go. The infant in question immediately took hold of my
hand, and said, "We shall never see you any more, you must come home
with me." I replied, "What do you want me to go home for?" The child
answered, "I have nothing to give you, but if you will come home
mother will give you some tea." I patted the child on the head,
telling it I could not go. The child went home, as I thought, and I
remained some time talking to one of the ladies of the committee. On
walking down the street I saw the same child crying bitterly, and
surrounded by many other children. On inquiring the cause, I received
for answer, "_You would not come home to tea_." If only one half the
invitations that are given amongst _men_ were given with as much
sincerity and disinterestedness as was manifested by this _infant_,
I am much mistaken if we should not see a very different state of
_society_.
"Moral education," writes Mr. Simpson in his "Philosophy of
Education," "embraces both the animal and moral impulses. It regulates
the former, and strengthens the latter, whenever gluttony, indelicacy,
violence, cruelty, greediness, cowardice, pride, insolence, vanity,
or any mode of selfishness shew themselves in the individual under
training, one and all must be repressed with the most watchful
solicitude, and the most skilful treatment. Repression may at first
fail to be accomplished, unless by severity; but the instructor
sufficiently enlightened in the faculties, will, in the first
practicable moment, drop the coercive system, and awaken and appeal
powerfully to the higher faculties of conscience and benevolence, and
to the powers of reflection: this, done with kindness, in other words,
with a marked manifestation of benevolence itself, will operate with
a power, the extent of which in education is yet, to a very limited
extent, estimated. In the very exercise of the superior faculties the
inferior are indirectly acquiring a habit of restraint and regulation;
for it is morally impossible to cultivate the superior faculties
without a simultaneous though indirect regulation of the inferior."
It is indeed a melancholy truth, that moral training is yet, to a very
limited extent, estimated, and this is mainly owing to its not being
understood by the generality of those selected for the office of
teachers of infants, nor can it be expected that persons of sufficient
intellect and talent to comprehend and carry out this great object,
can be procured, until a sufficient remuneration is held out to them,
to make it worth their while to devote their whole energies to the
subject. It is a fatal error to suppose that mere girls, taken perhaps
from some laborious occupation, and whose sum total of education
consists of reading and writing, can carry out views which it requires
a philosophical mind, well stored with liberal ideas and general
knowledge, to effect. They may be able to instruct the children in
the mere mechanical part of the system; and as long as they confine
themselves to this, they will go on capitally, but no further than
this can they go; and though the children may appear to a casual
visitor, to be very nicely instructed, and very wonderful little
creatures, on a closer examination they will be found mere automatons;
and then, without a thought on the subject, the system will be blamed,
without once considering that the most perfect figure of mechanism
will not work properly in any hands, except those that thoroughly
understand it.
Enough may have now been said on this subject, and my earnest prayer
is, that by God's help, these remarks may produce beneficial results;
and if my endeavours to make the subject of moral instruction more
easily understood, and to demonstrate its importance as clearly as
possible are successful, the results will soon shew me that the hard
labour of three-and-thirty years has not been entirely in vain, and
this will be to me a greater reward than all the praise, distinction,
and honour that it is in man's power to confer.
Whenever an infant is detected in any of those animal impulses, to
regulate which is the great end of moral training, a gallery lesson
should be immediately given, having a tendency to excite an abhorrence
of the fault on the minds of all the children. An opportunity of this
description should never be let pass. These are the very best times
to implant virtuous and moral sentiments in the minds of the young
pupils. These are the golden opportunities of bringing into action
the higher faculties of conscience and benevolence, and the powers of
reflection.
If an instance of the too prevalent cruelty of the young to animals
be detected, which often occurs from mere thoughtlessness, it may be
prevented from again occurring by a few lessons like the one which we
have given as a specimen. The same means may be taken for crushing the
rudiments of gluttony, violence, pride, deceit, or any other vice. The
gallery is the proper place for these lessons; and after the matter
has been thoroughly _sifted_ in the play-ground, or wherever else it
has occurred, the children should then be marched to the gallery, to
receive a proper instruction on the subject. Cruelty, on the part of
boys, is too prevalent; it is energy, enterprise, and high animal
spirit, not legislated for on the part of parents and teachers, which
descends to cruelty, first to animals, then to all which has life,
that cannot defend itself. Children soon learn to distinguish those
children and animals, who can, and will, resent cruelty, from those
who will not; and therefore, speculate on the results accordingly, and
become self-taught up to this point. A child should never be without a
kind and wise guide at this period; that which in itself descends
to evil, for the want of a moral guide, may be turned to good. The
faculties mentioned, cannot be extinguished, but can be regulated.
This is the office of the teacher. Too frequently we try to crush the
powers that early want training and regulating. The same powers which
run to vice, may be trained to virtue, but the activities cannot, and
ought not, to be kept too much in abeyance.
Children are not naturally cruel, although they differ much in the
propensity to annoy and reduce animals and each other under their
individual control; the passive submit at once, but the energetic will
not; it is then that the active assailant learns an important lesson,
which can only be learned in society, and which to him, is of great
importance. The difficulty on the part of the teacher, is to know
when to interfere, and when to let alone. I have often erred by
interference, of this I am quite satisfied; the anxiety to prevent
evil, has caused me to interfere too soon, by not giving time to the
pupil fully to develops his act. I hope others will profit from this;
it requires much practice and long study of different temperaments, in
children, to know when to let alone and when to interfere; but certain
it is, that the moral faculties can and must be developed, in any
system worthy of the name of education. Other vices beside cruelty are
to be found in children. Moral training applies to these, and none are
left to run their own course. Why should they? What are schools for?
but to form the virtuous character--the being who can command self
control--the orderly character, the good citizen, and, the being who
fears and loves God. Ends less than these, cannot be worthy of the
efforts of the philanthropist and the truly religious man.
There is another idea which has long been in my mind, and which I
hope some day to see carried into practice, viz., a Religious Service
adapted for children, in our various places of worship. No accurate
observer of the young in churches during divine service, can have
failed to witness the inattention of the numbers of children who are
assembled on such occasions. The service is too long and inappropriate
for them, as is also the sermon. It is addressed to adults, and
sometimes the terms used by the preacher, is Greek to half the adults,
in agricultural districts. Men cannot be too simple with the young and
illiterate; there is much room for improvement in these things, and
with regard to the young, I can answer for them that, if they are
addressed in proper language, which they can understand, and are
supplied with proper religious food for the understanding, suitable to
its state of receptivity, and, if I may say, digestive powers; they,
as a body, will shew us an example which will surprise many. With
regard to the Church, there might be taken from the Prayer Book, a
simple service adapted to the purpose. I am certain I could do it with
ease, as I know what is adapted for children, or at least I ought
to do. The next point, all the preachers should be men of peculiar
temperament and great simplicity of manner. I do not care how learned
they are; the more learned, the better; but it, need not be in
languages but in spiritual things. There are thousands of passages
in the Holy Word which are adapted, and I think, intended for the
purpose, and there are many men now living who are able to do the
thing, and more will be raised up. One thing, however, must not be
forgotten, they must be _men advanced_ in life, not _lads_. To teach
natural things properly to children, requires more knowledge than the
generality of the public suppose. The younger the children are, the
more knowledge it requires on the part of the instructor. But to teach
spiritual things properly to children, men cannot know too much,
provided they have the power to simplify that knowledge and reduce it
to practice. An evening service will not do for children, it must
be either in the morning or the middle of the day. So fully am I
impressed with the importance of this idea, that I am determined
shortly to take means to carry it out.