“2. How did you get your name?

“3. Who uses you?

“4. What were you once?

“5. What were you like then?

“6. Where were you obtained or found?

“7. Of what stuff or materials are you made?

“8. From what sources do you come?

“9. What are your parts?

“10. Are you made, grown, or fitted together?

* * * * *

“_Step II._

“I am an umbrella, and am used by many people, young and old.

“I get my name from a word which means a shade.

“The stick came perhaps from America, and is quite smooth, even, and

polished, so that the metal ring may slide easily up and down the

stick.

“My parts are a frame and a cover. My frame consists of a stick about

a yard long, wires, and a sliding metal band. At the lower end of the

stick is a steel ferrule or ring. This keeps the end from wearing away

when I am used in walking.

“_Step III._

“Now use _it_, _is_, _are_, and _was_, instead of _I_, _have_, _my_,

and _am_.

* * * * *

“_Exercise._

“Now write out your own description of it.”

=Such Teaching a Public Danger.=--And this is work intended for

Standards VI. and VII.! That is to say, this kind of thing is the

final literary effort to be exacted from children in our elementary

schools!

The two volumes (I quote from near the end of the second and more

advanced volume) are not to be gibbeted as exceptionally bad. A few

years ago the appalling discovery was made that, both in secondary

and elementary schools, ‘composition’ was dreadfully defective,

and, therefore, badly taught. Since then many volumes have been

produced, more or less on the lines indicated in the above citation,

and distinguished publishers have not perceived that to offer to the

public, with the sanction of their name, works of this sterilising

and injurious character, is an offence against society. The body of

a child is sacred in the eye of the law, but his intellectual powers

may be annihilated on such starvation diet as this, and nothing said!

The worst of it is, both authors and publishers in every case act

upon the fallacy that well-intentioned effort is always excusable, if

not praiseworthy. They do not perceive that no effort is permissible

towards the education of children without an intelligent conception,

both of children, and of what is meant by education.

=‘Composition’ comes by Nature.=--In fact, lessons on ‘_composition_’

should follow the model of that famous essay on “Snakes in

Ireland”--“There are none.” For children under nine, the question of

composition resolves itself into that of narration, varied by some

such simple exercise as to write a part and narrate a part, or write

the whole account of a walk they have taken, a lesson they have

studied, or of some simple matter that they know. Before they are ten,

children who have been in the habit of using books will write good,

vigorous English with ease and freedom; that is, if they have not been

hampered by instructions. It is well for them not even to learn rules

for the placing of full stops and capitals until they notice how these

things occur in their books. Our business is to provide children with

material in their lessons, and, _leave the handling of such material

to themselves_. If we would believe it, composition is as natural as

jumping and running to children who have been allowed due use of

books. They should narrate in the first place, and they will compose,

later, readily enough; but they should not be taught ‘composition.’

XIV.--BIBLE LESSONS

=Children enjoy the Bible.=--We are apt to believe that children

cannot be interested in the Bible unless its pages be watered

down--turned into the slipshod English we prefer to offer them. Here

is a suggestive anecdote of the childhood of Mrs Harrison, one of the

pair of little Quaker maidens introduced to us in the _Autobiography

of Mary Howitt_, the better known of the sisters. “One day she

found her way into a lumber room. There she caught sight of an old

Bible, and turning over its yellow leaves she came upon words that

she had not heard at the usual morning readings, the opening chapters

of St Luke--which her father objected to read aloud--and the closing

chapter of Revelation. The exquisite picture of the Great Child’s

birth in the one chapter, and the beauty of the description of the New

Jerusalem in the other, were seized upon by the eager little girl of

six years old with a rapture which, she used to say, no novel in after

years ever produced.”

And here is a mention of a child of five. “The little ones read every

day the events of Holy Week with me. Z. is inexpressibly interesting

in his deep, reverent interest, almost _excitement_.”

We are probably quite incapable of measuring the religious receptivity

of children. Nevertheless, their fitness to apprehend the deep things

of God is a fact with which we are called to ‘deal prudently,’ and to

deal reverently. And that, because, as none can appreciate more fully

than the ‘Darwinian,’ the attitude of thought and feeling in which you

place a child is the vital factor in his education.

=Should know the Bible Text.=--Children between the ages of six

and nine should get a considerable knowledge of the Bible text.

By nine they should have read the simple (and suitable) narrative

portions of the Old Testament, and, say, two of the gospels. The Old

Testament should, for various reasons, be read to children. The gospel

stories, they might read for themselves as soon as they can read them

beautifully. It is a mistake to use paraphrases of the text; the fine

roll of Bible English appeals to children with a compelling music,

and they will probably retain through life their first conception of

the Bible scenes, and, also, the very words in which these scenes are

portrayed. This is a great possession. Half the clever talk we hear

to-day, and half the uneasiness which underlies this talk, are due

to a thorough and perfect ignorance of the Bible text. The points

of assault are presented to men’s minds naked and jagged, without

atmosphere, perspective, proportion; until the Bible comes to mean for

many, the speaking of Balaam’s ass or the standing still of the sun at

Joshua’s bidding.

But let the imaginations of children be stored with the pictures,

their minds nourished upon the words, of the gradually unfolding

story of the Scriptures, and they will come to look out upon a wide

horizon within which persons and events take shape in their due place

and in due proportion. By degrees, they will see that the world is a

stage whereon the goodness of God is continually striving with the

wilfulness of man; that some heroic men take sides with God; and that

others, foolish and headstrong, oppose themselves to Him. The fire of

enthusiasm will kindle in their breast, and the children, too, will

take their side, without much exhortation, or any thought or talk of

spiritual experience.

=Essential and Accidental Truth.=--As for whether such and such a

narrative be a myth, or a parable, or a circumstance that has actually

occurred, such questions do not affect the sincere mind of a child,

because they have nothing to do with the main issues. It is quite

well to bring before children, in the course of their Bible readings,

whatever new light modern research puts in our way; the more we can

help them in this way, the more vivid and real will Bible teaching

become to them. But this grace, at any rate, the children may claim

at our hands, that they shall not be disturbed by questions of

authenticity in their Bible reading any more than in their reading

of English history. Let them hear the story of the Garden of Eden,

for example, as it stands; just so, we might even let them have the

story of the man who went fishing and found a goodly pearl; and this,

because the thing that matters in both stories is the essential truths

they embody, and not the mere accidents of time and place. It is

conceivable that the ‘pearl of great price’ was matter of current talk

at the time; a so-called ‘fact’ seized upon by our Lord to make of it

the vehicle for essential truth. If we will believe it, the minds of

children are, perhaps, more fit than our own to appropriate and deal

with truth. By-and-by they will perceive, and discard, if necessary,

the accidental circumstances with which the truth is clothed upon; but

let us be very chary of our own action. Let us remember that neither

we nor the children can bear the white light of naked truth; that

if, for example, we succeed in destroying the clothing that covers

the story of the first fall--the tree and its fruit, the tempting

serpent, the yielding woman--we have no other clothing at hand for

the fundamental truths of responsibility, temptation, sin; and, once

uncovered, with no vesture which we can lay hold upon, the truths

themselves will assuredly slip from our grasp.

We need not be at the pains to discriminate, in teaching children

Bible narratives, between essential and accidental truth--the truth

which interprets our own lives, and that which concerns only the

time, place, and circumstances proper to the narrative. The children

themselves will discern and keep fast hold of the essential, while the

merely accidental slips from their memory as from ours. Therefore,

let the minds of young children be well stored with the beautiful

narratives of the earlier portions of the Old Testament and of the

gospels; but, in order that these stories may be always fresh and

delightful to them, care must be taken lest Bible teaching stale

upon their minds. Children are more capable of being bored than even

we ourselves, and many a revolt has been brought about by the undue

rubbing-in of the Bible, in season and out of season, even in nursery

days. But we are considering, not the religious life of children, but

their education by lessons; and their Bible _lessons_ should

help them to realise in early days that the knowledge of God is the

principal knowledge, and, therefore, that their Bible lessons are

their chief lessons.

=Method of Bible Lessons.=--The method of such lessons is very simple.

Read aloud to the children a few verses covering, if possible, an

episode. Read reverently, carefully, and with just expression. Then

require the children to narrate what they have listened to as nearly

as possible in the words of the Bible. It is curious how readily

they catch the rhythm of the majestic and simple Bible English.

Then, talk the narrative over with them in the light of research and

criticism. Let the teaching, moral and spiritual, reach them without

much personal application. I know of no better help in the teaching of

young children than we get in Canon Paterson Smyth’s _Bible for the

Young_. Mr Smyth brings both modern criticism and research to bear,

so that children taught from his little manuals will not be startled

to be told later that the world was not made in six days; and, at the

same time, they will be very sure that the world was made by God.

The moral and spiritual teaching in these manuals is on broad and

convincing lines. It is rather a good plan occasionally to read aloud

Mr Smyth’s lesson on the subject after the Bible passage has been

narrated. Children are more ready to appropriate lessons that are not

directly levelled at themselves; while the teacher makes the teaching

her own by the interest with which she reads, the pictures and other

illustrations she shows, and her conversational remarks.

=Picture Illustrations.=--The pictures in the _Illustrated New

Testament_ are, at the same time, reverent and actual, an unusual

combination, and children enjoy them greatly. It would be well for

them to have only the penny gospel they are reading, but it should

perhaps be protected (and honoured) by an embroidered cover. A

tattered Bible is not a wholesome sight for children. _The Holy

Gospels with Illustrations from the Old Masters_,[23] published

by the S.P.C.K., is admirable. The study of such pictures as are

here reproduced should be a valuable part of a child’s education;

it is no slight thing to realise how the Nativity and the visit of

the Wise Men filled the imagination of the early Masters, and with

what exceeding reverence and delight they dwelt upon every detail of

the sacred story. This sort of impression is not to be had from any

up-to-date treatment, or up-to-date illustrations; and the child who

gets it in early days, will have a substratum of reverent feeling

upon which should rest his faith. But it is well to let the pictures

tell their own tale. The children should study a subject quietly for a

few minutes; and then, the picture being removed, say what they have

seen in it. It will be found that they miss no little reverent or

suggestive detail which the artist has thought well to include.

The various R.T.S. publications issued in the series of _Bypaths

of Bible Knowledge_ will be found very helpful by the teacher, as

illustrating modern research; notably, Professor Sayce’s _Fresh

Light from Ancient Monuments_, and Budge’s _Dwellers on the

Nile_.[24]

=Bible Recitations.=--The learning by heart of Bible passages should

begin while the children are quite young, six or seven. It is a

delightful thing to have the memory stored with beautiful, comforting,

and inspiring passages, and we cannot tell when and how this manner

of seed may spring up, grow, and bear fruit; but the learning of the

parable of the Prodigal Son, for example, should not be laid on the

children as a burden. The whole parable should be read to them in a

way to bring out its beauty and tenderness; and then, day by day, the

teacher should recite a short passage, perhaps two or three verses,

saying it over some three or four times until the children think they

know it. Then, but not before, let them recite the passage. Next day

the children will recite what they have already learned, and so on,

until they are able to say the whole parable.

XV.--ARITHMETIC

=Educative Value of Arithmetic.=--Of all his early studies, perhaps

none is more important to the child as a means of education than

that of arithmetic. That he should do sums is of comparatively small

importance; but the use of those functions which ‘summing’ calls into

play is a great part of education; so much so, that the advocates of

mathematics and of language as instruments of education have, until

recently, divided the field pretty equally between them.

The practical value of arithmetic to persons in every class of life

goes without remark. But the use of the study in practical life is

the least of its uses. The chief value of arithmetic, like that

of the higher mathematics, lies in the training it affords to the

reasoning powers, and in the habits of insight, readiness, accuracy,

intellectual truthfulness it engenders. There is no one subject in

which good teaching effects more, as there is none in which slovenly

teaching has more mischievous results. Multiplication does not produce

the ‘right answer,’ so the boy tries division; that again fails, but

subtraction may get him out of the bog. There is no _must be_ to

him; he does not see that one process, and one process _only_,

can give the required result. Now, a child who does not know what rule

to apply to a simple problem within his grasp, has been ill taught

from the first, although he may produce slatefuls of quite right sums

in multiplication or long division.

=Problems within the Child’s Grasp.=--How is this insight, this

exercise of the reasoning powers, to be secured? Engage the child

upon little problems within his comprehension from the first, rather

than upon set sums. The young governess delights to set a noble ‘long

division sum,’--953,783,465 ÷ 873--which shall fill the child’s slate,

and keep him occupied for a good half-hour; and when it is finished,

and the child is finished too, done up with the unprofitable labour,

the sum is not right after all: the two last figures in the quotient

are wrong, and the remainder is false. But he cannot do it again--he

must not be discouraged by being told it is wrong; so, ‘nearly right’

is the verdict, a judgment inadmissible in arithmetic. Instead of this

laborious task, which gives no scope for mental effort, and in which

he goes to sea at last from sheer want of attention, say to him--

“Mr Jones sent six hundred and seven, and Mr Stevens eight hundred and

nineteen, apples to be divided amongst the twenty-seven boys at school

on Monday. How many apples apiece did they get?”

Here he must ask himself certain questions. ‘How many apples

altogether? How shall I find out? Then I must _divide_ the apples

into twenty-seven heaps to find out each boy’s share.’ That is to

say, the child perceives what rules he must apply to get the required

information. He is interested; the work goes on briskly: the sum is

done in no time, and is probably right, because the attention of the

child is concentrated on his work. Care must be taken to give the

child such problems as he _can_ work, but yet which are difficult

enough to cause him some little mental effort.

=Demonstrate.=--The next point is to demonstrate everything

demonstrable. The child may learn the multiplication-table and do

a subtraction sum without any insight into the _rationale_ of

either. He may even become a good arithmetician, applying rules

aptly, without seeing the reason of them; but arithmetic becomes an

elementary mathematical training only in so far as the reason why

of every process is clear to the child. 2 + 2 = 4, is a self-evident

fact, admitting of little demonstration; but 4 × 7 = 28 may be proved.

He has a bag of beans; places four rows with seven beans in a row;

adds the rows, thus: 7 and 7 are 14, and 7 are 21, and 7 are 28; how

many sevens in 28? 4. Therefore it is right to say 4 × 7 = 28; and the

child sees that multiplication is only a short way of doing addition.

A bag of beans, counters, or buttons should be used in all the early

arithmetic lessons, and the child should be able to work with these

freely, and even to add, subtract, multiply, and divide mentally,

without the aid of buttons or beans, before he is set to ‘do sums’ on

his slate.

He may arrange an addition table with his beans, thus--

⬭⬭ ⬭ = 3 beans

⬭⬭ ⬭⬭ = 4 ”

⬭⬭ ⬭⬭⬭ = 5 ”

and be exercised upon it until he can tell, first without counting,

and then without looking at the beans, that 2 + 7 = 9, etc.

Thus with 3, 4, 5,--each of the digits: as he learns each line of his

addition table, he is exercised upon imaginary objects, ‘4 apples

and 9 apples,’ ‘4 nuts and 6 nuts,’ etc.; and lastly, with abstract

numbers--6 + 5, 6 + 8.

A subtraction table is worked out simultaneously with the addition

table. As he works out each line of additions, he goes over the same

ground, only taking away one bean, or two beans, instead of adding,

until he is able to answer quite readily, 2 from 7? 2 from 5? After

working out each line of addition or subtraction, he may put it on

his slate with the proper signs, that is, if he have learned to make

figures. It will be found that it requires a much greater mental

effort on the child’s part to grasp the idea of subtraction than that

of addition, and the teacher must be content to go slowly--one finger

from four fingers, one nut from three nuts, and so forth, until he

knows what he is about.

When the child can add and subtract numbers pretty freely up to

twenty, the multiplication and division tables may be worked out with

beans, as far as 6 × 12; that is, ‘twice 6 are 12’ will be ascertained

by means of two rows of beans, six beans in a row.

When the child can say readily, without even a glance at his beans, 2

× 8 = 16, 2 × 7 = 14, etc., he will take 4, 6, 8, 10, 12 beans, and

divide them into groups of two: then, how many twos in 10, in 12, in

20? And so on, with each line of the multiplication table that he

works out.

=Problems.=--Now he is ready for more ambitious problems: thus, ‘A

boy had twice ten apples; how many heaps of 4 could he make?’ He

will be able to work with promiscuous numbers, as 7 + 5 - 3. If he

must use beans to get his answer, let him; but encourage him to work

with _imaginary_ beans, as a step towards working with abstract

numbers. Carefully graduated teaching and _daily_ mental effort

on the child’s part at this early stage may be the means of developing

real mathematical power, and will certainly promote the habits of

concentration and effort of mind.

=Notation.=--When the child is able to work pretty freely with small

numbers, a serious difficulty must be faced, upon his thorough mastery

of which will depend his apprehension of arithmetic as a science;

in other words, will depend the educational value of all the sums

he may henceforth do. He must be made to understand our system of

notation. Here, as before, it is best to begin with the concrete: let

the child get the idea of ten _units_ in one _ten_ after he

has mastered the more easily demonstrable idea of twelve pence in one

shilling.

Let him have a heap of pennies, say fifty: point out the

inconvenience of carrying such weighty money to shops. Lighter money

is used--shillings. How many pennies is a shilling worth? How many

shillings, then, might he have for his fifty pennies? He divides them

into heaps of twelve, and finds that he has four such heaps, and two

pennies over; that is to say, fifty pence are (or are worth) four

shillings and twopence. I buy ten pounds of biscuits at fivepence a

pound; they cost fifty pence, but the shopman gives me a bill for

4_s_. 2_d_.; show the child how put down: the pennies, which

are worth least, to the right; the shillings, which are worth more, to

the left.

When the child is able to work freely with shillings and pence, and

to understand that 2 in the right-hand column of figures is pence,

2 in the left-hand column, shillings, introduce him to the notion

of tens and units, being content to work very gradually. Tell him

of uncivilised peoples who can only count so far as five--who say

‘five-five beasts in the forest,’ ‘five-five fish in the river,’ when

they wish to express an immense number. We can count so far that we

might count all day long for years without coming to the end of the

numbers we might name; but after all, we have very few numbers to

count with, and very few figures to express them by. We have but

nine figures and a nought: we take the first figure and the nought to

express another number, ten; but after that we must begin again until

we get two tens, then, again, till we reach three tens, and so on. We

call two tens, twenty, three tens, thirty, because ‘ty’ (_tig_)

means ten.

But if I see figure 4, how am I to know whether it means four tens

or four ones? By a very simple plan. The _tens_ have a place of

their own; if you see figure 6 in the ten-place, you know it means

sixty. The tens are always put behind the units: when you see two

figures standing side by side, thus, ‘55,’ the left-hand figure stands

for so many tens; that is, the second 5 stands for ten times as many

as the first.

Let the child work with tens and units only until he has mastered

the idea of the tenfold value of the second figure to the left, and

would laugh at the folly of writing 7 in the second column of figures,

knowing that thereby it becomes seventy. Then he is ready for the

same sort of drill in hundreds, and picks up the new idea readily if

the principle have been made clear to him, that each remove to the

left means a tenfold increase in the value of a number. Meantime,

‘set’ him no sums. Let him never work with figures the notation of

which is beyond him, and when he comes to ‘carry’ in an addition or

multiplication sum, let him not say he carries ‘two,’ or ‘three,’ but

‘two tens,’ or ‘three hundreds,’ as the case may be.

=Weighing and Measuring.=--If the child do not get the ground under

his feet at this stage, he works arithmetic ever after by rule of

thumb. On the same principle, let him learn ‘weights and measures’

by measuring and weighing; let him have scales and weights, sand or

rice, paper and twine, and weigh, and do up, in _perfectly_

made parcels, ounces, pounds, etc. The _parcels_, though they

are not arithmetic, are educative, and afford considerable exercise

of judgment as well as of neatness, deftness, and quickness. In like

manner, let him work with foot-rule and yard measure, and draw up his

tables for himself. Let him not only measure and weigh everything

about him that admits of such treatment, but let him use his judgment

on questions of measure and weight. How many yards long is the

tablecloth? how many feet long and broad a map, or picture? What does

he suppose a book weighs that is to go by parcel post? The sort of

readiness to be gained thus is valuable in the affairs of life, and,

if only for that reason, should be cultivated in the child. While

engaged in measuring and weighing concrete quantities, the scholar is

prepared to take in his first idea of a ‘fraction,’ half a pound, a

quarter of a yard, etc.

=Arithmetic a Means of Training.=--Arithmetic is valuable as a means

of training children in habits of strict accuracy, but the ingenuity

which makes this exact science tend to foster slipshod habits of mind,

a disregard of truth and common honesty, is worthy of admiration!

The copying, prompting, telling, helping over difficulties, working

with an eye to the answer which he knows, that are allowed in the

arithmetic lesson, under an inferior teacher, are enough to vitiate

any child; and quite as bad as these is the habit of allowing that

a sum is _nearly_ right, two figures wrong, and so on, and

letting the child work it over again. Pronounce a sum _wrong_,

or _right_--it cannot be something between the two. That which

is _wrong_ must remain _wrong_: the child must not be let

run away with the notion that wrong can be mended into right. The

future is before him: he may get the next sum right, and the wise

teacher will make it her business to see that he _does_, and that

he starts with new hope. But the wrong sum must just be let alone.

Therefore his progress must be carefully graduated; but there is no

subject in which the teacher has a more delightful consciousness of

drawing out from day to day new power in the child. Do not offer him

a crutch: it is in his own power he must go. Give him short sums, in

words rather than in figures, and excite in him the enthusiasm which

produces concentrated attention and rapid work. Let his arithmetic

lesson be to the child a daily exercise in clear thinking and rapid,

careful execution, and his mental growth will be as obvious as the

sprouting of seedlings in the spring.

=The A B C Arithmetic.=--Instead of entering further into the subject

of the teaching of elementary arithmetic, I should like to refer the

reader to the _A B C Arithmetic_ by Messrs Sonnenschein & Nesbit.

The authors found their method upon the following passage from Mill’s

_Logic_:--“The fundamental truths of the science of Number all

rest on the evidence of sense; they are proved by showing to our

eyes and our fingers that any given number of objects, ten balls for

example, may by separation and re-arrangement exhibit to our senses

all the different sets of numbers the sum of which is equal to ten.

All the improved methods of teaching arithmetic to children proceed

on a knowledge of this fact. All who wish to carry the child’s

_mind_ along with them in learning arithmetic, all who wish to

teach numbers and not mere ciphers, now teach it through the evidence

of the senses in the manner we have described.”

Here we may, I think, trace the solitary source of weakness in a

surpassingly excellent manual. It is quite true that the fundamental

truths of the science of number all rest on the evidence of sense;

but, having used eyes and fingers upon ten balls or twenty balls, upon

ten nuts, or leaves, or sheep, or what not, the child has formed the

association of a given number with objects, and is able to conceive

of the association of various other numbers with objects. In fact,

he begins to _think_ in numbers and not in objects, that is, he

begins mathematics. Therefore I incline to think that an elaborate

system of staves, cubes, etc., instead of tens, hundreds, thousands,

errs by embarrassing the child’s mind with too much teaching, and by

making the illustration occupy a more prominent place than the thing

illustrated.

Dominoes, beans, graphic figures drawn on the blackboard, and the

like, are, on the other hand, aids to the child when it is necessary

for him to conceive of a great number with the material of a small

one; but to see a symbol of the great numbers and to work with such a

symbol are quite different matters.

With the above trifling exception, which does not interfere at all

with the use of the books, nothing can be more delightful than the

careful analysis of numbers and the beautiful graduation of the

work, “only one difficulty at a time being presented to the mind.”

The examples and the little problems could only have been invented

by writers in sympathy with children. I advise the reader who is

interested in the teaching of arithmetic to turn to Mr Sonnenschein’s

paper on ‘The Teaching of Arithmetic in Elementary Schools,’ in one of

the volumes published by the Board of Education.[25]

=Preparation for Mathematics.=--In the ‘forties’ and ‘fifties’ it was

currently held that the continual sight of the outward and visible

signs (geometrical forms and figures) should beget the inward and

spiritual grace of mathematical genius, or, at any rate, of an

inclination to mathematics. But the educationalists of those days

forgot, when they gave children boxes of ‘form’ and stuck up cubes,

hexagons, pentagons, and what not, in every available schoolroom

space, the immense capacity for being bored which is common to us

all, and is far more strongly developed in children than in grown-up

people. The objects which bore us, or the persons who bore us, appear

to wear a bald place in the mind, and thought turns from them with

sick aversion. Dickens showed us the pathos of it in the schoolroom of

the little Gradgrinds, which was bountifully supplied with objects of

uncompromising outline. Ruskin, more genially, exposes the fallacy.

No doubt geometric forms abound,--the skeletons of which living

beauty, in contour and gesture, in hill and plant, is the covering;

and the skeleton is beautiful and wonderful to the mind which has

already entered within the portals of geometry. But children should

not be presented with the skeleton, but with the living forms which

clothe it. Besides, is it not an inverse method to familiarise the

child’s eye with patterns made by his compasses, or stitched upon his

card, in the hope that the form will beget the idea? For the novice,

it is probably the rule that the idea must beget the form, and any

suggestion of an idea from a form comes only to the initiated. I do

not think that any direct preparation for mathematics is desirable.

The child, who has been allowed to think and not compelled to cram,

hails the new study with delight when the due time for it arrives. The

reason why mathematics are a great study is because there exists in

the normal mind an affinity and capacity for this study; and too great

an elaboration, whether of teaching or of preparation, has, I think, a

tendency to take the edge off this manner of intellectual interest.

XVI.--NATURAL PHILOSOPHY

=A Basis of Facts.=--Of the teaching of _Natural Philosophy_,

I will only remind the reader of what was said in an earlier

chapter--that there is no part of a child’s education more important

than that he should lay, by his own observation, a wide basis of

_facts_ towards scientific knowledge in the future. He must

live hours daily in the open air, and, as far as possible, in the

country; must look and touch and listen; must be quick to note,

_consciously_, every peculiarity of habit or structure, in beast,

bird, or insect; the manner of growth and fructification of every

plant. He must be accustomed to ask _why_--Why does the wind

blow? Why does the river flow? Why is a leaf-bud sticky? And do not

hurry to answer his questions for him; let him think his difficulties

out so far as his small experience will carry him. Above all, when

you come to the rescue, let it not be in the ‘cut and dried’ formula

of some miserable little text-book; let him have all the insight

available, and you will find that on many scientific questions the

child may be brought at once to the level of modern thought. Do not

embarrass him with too much scientific nomenclature. If he discover

for himself (helped, perhaps, by a leading question or two), by

comparing an oyster and his cat, that some animals have backbones and

some have not, it is less important that he should learn the terms

vertebrate and invertebrate than that he should class the animals he

meets with according to this difference.

=Eyes and No-eyes.=--The _method_ of this sort of instruction is

shown in _Evenings at Home_, where ‘Eyes and No-eyes’ go for a

walk. No-eyes comes home bored; he has seen nothing, been interested

in nothing: while Eyes is all agog to discuss a hundred things that

have interested him. As I have already tried to point out, to get

this sort of instruction for himself is simply the _nature_ of a

child: the business of the parent is to afford him abundant and varied

opportunities, and to direct his observations, so that, knowing little

of the principles of scientific classification, he is, unconsciously,

furnishing himself with the materials for such classification. It

is needless to repeat what has already been said on this subject;

but, indeed, the future of the man or woman depends very largely on

the store of real knowledge gathered, and the habits of intelligent

observation acquired, by the child. “Think you,” says Mr Herbert

Spencer, “that the rounded rock marked with parallel scratches calls

up as much poetry in an ignorant mind as in the mind of the geologist,

who knows that over this rock a glacier slid a million of years ago?

The truth is, that those who have never entered on 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 hedgerows can assume.”

=Principles.=--In this connection I should like to recommend _The

Sciences_, by Mr Holden. America comes to the fore with a

schoolbook after my own heart. _The Sciences_ is a forbidding

title, but since the era of Joyce’s _Scientific Dialogues_ I have

met with nothing on the same lines which makes so fit an approach to

the sensible and intelligent mind of a child. This is what we may call

a ‘first-hand’ book. The knowledge has of course all been acquired;

but then it has been assimilated, and Mr Holden writes freely out

of his own knowledge both of his subject-matter and of his readers.

The book has been thrown into the form of conversations between

children--simple conversations without padding. About three hundred

topics are treated of: Sand-dunes, Back-ice, Herculaneum, Dredging,

Hurricanes, Echoes, the Prism, the Diving-bell, the Milky Way, and,

shall I say, everything else? But the amazing skill of the author is

shown in the fact that there is nothing scrappy and nothing hurried

in the treatment of any topic, but each falls naturally and easily

under the head of some principle which it elucidates. Many simple

experiments are included, which the author insists shall be performed

by the children themselves. I venture to quote from the singularly

wise preface, a _vade mecum_ for teachers:--

“The object of the present volume is to present chapters to be read in

school or at home that shall materially widen the outlook of American

schoolchildren in the domain of science, and of the applications of

science to the arts and to daily life. It is in no sense a text-book,

although the fundamental principles underlying the sciences treated

are here laid down. Its main object is to help the child to understand

the material world about him.”

=To be Comprehended by Children.=--“All natural phenomena are orderly;

they are governed by law; they are not magical. They are comprehended

by someone; why not by the child himself? It is not possible to

explain every detail of a locomotive to a young pupil, but it is

perfectly practicable to explain its principles so that this machine,

like others, becomes a mere special case of certain well-understood

general laws. The general plan of the book is to awaken the

imagination; to convey useful knowledge; to open the doors towards

wisdom. Its special aim is to stimulate observation and to excite a

living and lasting interest in the world that lies about us.

“The sciences of astronomy, physics, chemistry, meteorology, and

physiography are treated as fully and as deeply as the conditions

permit; and the lessons that they teach are enforced by examples

taken from familiar and important things. In astronomy, for example,

emphasis is laid upon phenomena that the child himself can observe,

and he is instructed how to go about it. The rising and setting of

the stars, the phases of the moon, the uses of the telescope, are

explained in simple words. The mystery of these and other matters is

not magical, as the child at first supposes. It is to deeper mysteries

that his attention is here directed. Mere phenomena are treated as

special cases of very general laws. The same process is followed in

the exposition of the other sciences.

“Familiar phenomena, like those of steam, of shadows, of reflected

light, of musical instruments, of echoes, etc., are referred to their

fundamental causes. Whenever it is desirable, simple experiments

are described and fully illustrated, and all such experiments can

very well be repeated in the schoolroom.... The volume is the result

of a sincere belief that much can be done to aid young children to

comprehend the material world in which they live, and of a desire to

have a part in a work so very well worth doing.”

I cannot help quoting also in this connection from an article[26] by

the Rev. H. H. Moore dealing with a forgotten pioneer of a rational

education and his experiment. This pioneer was the Rev. Richard Dawes,

at one time Rector of Kings Somborne parish, Hampshire, who, in 1841,

worked out the problem of rational education in an agricultural

village, in which he found the population unusually ignorant and

debased. The whole story is of great interest, but our concern is with

the question of Natural Philosophy, the staple of the teaching given

in this school.

=As taught in a Village School.=--Mr Dawes thus explained his

object:--“I aimed at teaching what would be profitable and interesting

to persons in the position in life which the children were likely

to occupy. I aimed at their being taught what may be called the

philosophy of common things--of everyday life. They were shown how

much there is that is interesting, and which it is advantageous for

them to know, in connection with the natural objects with which they

are familiar; they had explained to them, and were made acquainted

with, the principles of a variety of natural phenomena, as well as

the principles and construction of various instruments of a useful

kind. A practical turn was given to everything; the uses and fruits of

the knowledge they were acquiring were never lost sight of.” A list

of some of the subjects included in this kind of teaching will be the

best commentary on Mr Dawes’ scheme:--

“Some of the properties of air, explaining how its pressure enables

them to pump up water, to amuse themselves with squirts and popguns,

to suck up water through a straw; explaining also the principles

and construction of a barometer, the common pump, the diving-bell,

a pair of bellows. That air expands by heat, shown by placing a

half-blown bladder near the fire, when the wrinkles disappear. Why the

chimney-smoke sometimes rises easily in the air, sometimes not. Why

there is a draught up the chimney, and under the door, and towards

the fire. Air as a vehicle of sound, and why the flash of a distant

gun fired is seen before the report is heard; how to calculate the

distance of a thunderstorm; the difference in the speeds at which

different materials conduct sound. Water and its properties, its

solid, fluid, and vaporous state; why water-pipes are burst by frost;

why ice forms and floats on the surface of ponds, and not at the

bottom; why the kettle-lid jumps up when the water is boiling on the

fire; the uses to which the power of steam is applied; the gradual

evolution of the steam-engine, shown by models and diagrams; how their

clothes are dried, and why they feel cold sitting in damp clothes;

why a damp bed is so dangerous; why one body floats in water, and

another sinks; the different densities of sea and fresh water; why,

on going into the school on a cold morning, they sometimes see a

quantity of water on the glass, and why on the inside and not on the

outside; why, on a frosty day, their breath is visible as vapour; the

substances water holds in solution, and how their drinking water is

affected by the kind of soil through which it has passed. Dew, its

value, and the conditions necessary for its formation; placing equal

portions of dry wool on gravel, glass, and the grass, and weighing

them the next morning. Heat and its properties; how it is that the

blacksmith can fit iron hoops so firmly on the wheels of carts and

barrows; what precautions have to be taken in laying the iron rails

of railways and in building iron bridges, etc.; what materials are

good, and what bad, conductors of heat; why at the same temperature

some feel colder to our touch than others; why a glass sometimes

breaks when hot water is poured into it, and whether thick or thin

glass would be more liable to crack; why water can be made to boil in

a paper kettle or an eggshell without its being burned. The metals,

their sources, properties, and uses; mode of separating from the ores.

Light and its properties, illustrated by prisms, etc.; adaptation

of the eye; causes of long- and short-sightedness. The mechanical

principles of the tools more commonly used, the spade, the plough, the

axe, the lever, etc.”

“It may surprise some who read carefully the above list that such

subjects should have been taught to the children of a rural elementary

school. But it is an undeniable fact that they were taught in Kings

Somborne school, and so successfully that the children were both

interested and benefited by the teaching. Mr Dawes, in answer to the

objection that such subjects are above the comprehension of the young,

said:--‘The distinguishing mark of Nature’s laws is their extreme

simplicity. It may doubtless require intellect of a high order to make

the discovery of these laws; yet, once evolved, they are within the

capacity of a child,--in short, the principles of natural philosophy

are the principles of common sense, and if taught in a simple and

common-sense way, they will be speedily understood and eagerly

attended to by children; and it will be found that with pupils of

even from ten to twelve years of age much may be done towards forming

habits of observation and inquiry.’ Such a fact, I think, suggests

some valuable practical lessons for those who have the responsibility

of deciding what subjects to include in an educational system for

children.”

In reading of this remarkable experiment, we feel that we must at once

secure a man, all-informed like the late Dean Dawes, to teach our

own Jack and Elsie; but it is something to realise what these young

persons should know, and Mr Holden has done a great deal for us. Some

of the chapters in _The Sciences_ may be beyond children under

nine, but they will be able to master a good deal. One thing is to be

borne in mind: nothing should be done without its due experiment. By

the way, our old friend, Joyce’s _Scientific Dialogues_, if it

is still to be had, describes a vast number of easy and interesting

experiments which children can work for themselves.

XVII.--GEOGRAPHY

=Geography= is, to my mind, a subject of high educational value;

though not because it affords the means of scientific training.

Geography does present its problems, and these of the most

interesting, and does afford materials for classification; but it

is physical geography only which falls within the definition of a

science, and even that is rather a compendium of the results of

several sciences than a science itself. But the peculiar value of

geography lies in its fitness to nourish the mind with ideas, and to

furnish the imagination with pictures. Herein lies the educational

value of geography.

=As commonly Taught.=--Now, how is the subject commonly taught? The

child learns the names of the capital cities of Europe, or of the

rivers of England, or of the mountain-summits of Scotland, from some

miserable text-book, with length in miles, and height in feet, and

population, finding the names on his map or not, according as his

teacher is more or less up to her work. Poor little fellow! the lesson

is hard work to him; but as far as _education_ goes--that is, the

developing of power, the furnishing of the mind--he would be better

employed in watching the progress of a fly across the windowpane. But,

you will say, geography has a further use than this strictly educative

one; everybody wants the sort of information which the geography

lesson should afford. That is true, and is to be borne in mind in the

schoolroom; the child’s geography lesson should furnish just the sort

of information which grown-up people care to possess. Now, do think

how unreasonable we are in this matter; nothing will persuade us to

read a book of travel unless it be interesting, graphic, with a spice

of personal adventure. Even when we are going about with _Murray_

in hand, we skip the dry facts and figures, and read the suggestive

pictorial scraps; these are the sorts of things we like to know, and

remember with ease. But none of this pleasant padding for the poor

child, if you please; do not let him have little pictorial sentences

that he may dream over; facts and names and figures--these are the

_pabulum_ for him!

=Geography should be Interesting.=--But, you say, this sort of

knowledge, though it may be a labour to the child to acquire it,

is useful in after life. Not a bit of it; and for this reason--it

has never been really received by the brain at all; has never got

further than the floating nebulæ of mere verbal memory of which I have

already had occasion to speak. Most of us have gone through a good

deal of drudgery in the way of ‘geography’ lessons, but how much do

we remember? Just the pleasant bits we heard from travelled friends,

about the Rhine, or Paris, or Venice, or bits from _The Voyages of

Captain Cook_, or other pleasant tales of travel and adventure.

We begin to see the lines we must go upon in teaching geography: for

_educative_ purposes, the child must learn such geography, and

in such a way, that his mind shall thereby be stored with ideas, his

imagination with images; for _practical_ purposes he must learn

such geography only as, the nature of his mind considered, he will

able to remember; in other words, he must learn what _interests_

him. The educative and the practical run in one groove, and the

geography lesson becomes the most charming occupation of the child’s

day.

=How to begin.=--But, how to begin? In the first place, the child gets

his rudimentary notions of geography as he gets his first notions of

natural science, in those long hours out of doors of which we have

already seen the importance. A pool fed by a mere cutting in the

fields will explain the nature of a lake, will carry the child to

the lovely lakes of the Alps, to Livingstone’s great African lake, in

which he delighted to see his children ‘paidling’--“his own children

‘paidling’ in his own lake.” In this connection will come in a great

deal of pleasant talk about places, ‘pictorial geography,’ until the

child knows by name and nature the great rivers and mountains, deserts

and plains, the cities and countries of the world. At the same time,

he gets his first notions of a map from a rude sketch, a mere few

lines and dots, done with pencil and paper, or, better still, with

a stick in the sand or gravel. ‘This crooked line is the Rhine; but

you must imagine the rafts, and the island with the Mouse Tower, and

the Nuns’ Island, and the rest. Here are the hills, with their ruined

castles--now on this side, now on that. This dot is Cologne,’ etc.

Especially, let these talks cover all the home scenery and interests

you are acquainted with, so that, by-and-by, when he looks at the

map of England, he finds a score of familiar names which suggest

landscapes to him--places where ‘mother has been,’--the woody, flowery

islets of the Thames; the smooth Sussex downs, delightful to run and

roll upon, with soft carpet of turf and nodding harebells; the York or

Devon moors, with bilberries and heather:--and always give him a rough

sketch-map of the route you took in a given journey.

=What next?=--Give him next intimate knowledge, with the fullest

details, of any country or region of the world, any county or district

of his own country. It is _not_ necessary that he should learn at

this stage what is called the ‘geography’ of the countries of Europe,

the continents of the world--mere strings of names for the most part;

he may learn these, but it is tolerably certain that he will not

remember them. But let him be _at home_ in any single region; let

him see, with the mind’s eye, the people at their work and at their

play, the flowers and fruits in their seasons, the beasts, each in its

habitat; and let him see all _sympathetically_, that is, let him

follow the adventures of a traveller; and he knows more, is better

furnished with ideas, than if he had learnt all the names on all the

maps. The ‘way’ of this kind of teaching is very simple and obvious;

read to him, or read for him, that is, read bit by bit, and tell as

you read, Hartwig’s _Tropical World_,[27] the same author’s Polar

World,[27a] Livingstone’s missionary travels, Mrs Bishop’s _Unbeaten

Tracks in Japan_[27a]--in fact, any interesting, well-written book

of travel. It may be necessary to leave out a good deal, but every

illustrative anecdote, every bit of description, is so much towards

the child’s education. Here, as elsewhere, the question is, not how

many things does he know, but how much does he know about each thing.

=Maps.=--_Maps_ must be carefully used in this kind of work,--a

sketch-map following the traveller’s progress, to be compared finally

with a complete map of the region; and the teacher will exact a

description of such and such a town, and such and such a district,

marked on the map, by way of testing and confirming the child’s

exact knowledge. In this way, too, he gets intelligent notions of

_physical_ geography; in the course of his readings he falls in

with a description of a volcano, a glacier, a cañon, a hurricane; he

hears all about, and asks and learns the how and the why, of such

phenomena at the moment when his interest is excited. In other words,

he learns as his elders elect to learn for themselves, though they

rarely allow the children to tread in paths so pleasant.

=What General Knowledge a Child of Nine should have.=--Supposing that

between the child’s sixth and his ninth year half a dozen well-chosen

standard books of travel have been read with him in this way, he

has gained distinct ideas of the contours, the productions, and the

manners of the people, of every great region of the world; has laid up

a store of reliable, valuable knowledge, that will last his lifetime;

and besides, has done something to acquire a taste for books and

the habit of reading. Such books as Lady Brassey’s _Voyage in the

‘Sunbeam’_ should be avoided, as covering too much ground, and

likely to breed some confusion of ideas.

=Particular Knowledge.=--But we are considering lessons as

‘Instruments of Education’; and the sort of knowledge of the world I

have indicated will be conveyed rather by readings in the ‘Children’s

Hour’ and at other times than by way of lessons. I know of nothing

so good as the old-fashioned _World at Home_ (for lessons) for

children between six and seven. As they hear, they wonder, admire,

imagine, and can even ‘play at’ a hundred situations. The first

ideas of geography, the lessons on _place_, which should make

a child observant of local geography, of the features of his own

neighbourhood, its heights and hollows, and level lands, its streams

and ponds, should be gained, as we have seen, out of doors, and should

prepare him for a certain amount of generalisation--that is, he should

be able to discover definitions of river, island, lake, and so on, and

should make these for himself in a tray of sand, or draw them on the

blackboard.

=Definitions.=--But definitions should come in the way of recording

his experiences. Before he is taught what a river is, he must have

watched a stream and observed that it flows; and so on with the rest.

Children easily simulate knowledge, and at this point the teacher

will have to be careful that nothing which the child receives is mere

verbiage, but that every generalisation is worked out somewhat in this

way:--The child observes a fact, as, for example, a wide stretch of

flat ground; the teacher amplifies. He reads in his book about Pampas,

the flat countries of the north-west of Europe, the Holland of our own

eastern coast, and, by degrees, he is prepared to receive the idea of

a _plain_, and to show it on his tray of sand.

=Fundamental Ideas.=--By the time he is seven, or before, he finds

himself in need of further knowledge. He has read of hot countries and

cold countries, has observed the seasons and the rising and setting of

the sun, has said to himself--

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

How I wonder what you are!”--

knows something of ocean and sea, has watched the tide come in and

go out, has seen many rough sketch-maps made and has made some for

himself, and has, no doubt, noticed the criss-cross lines on a

‘proper’ map; that is to say, his mind is prepared for knowledge

in various directions; there are a number of things concerned with

geography which he really wants to know.

The shape and motions of the earth are fundamental ideas,[28] however

difficult to grasp, but the difficulty is of a kind which increases

with years. The principle in each case is simple enough, and a

child does not concern himself, as do his elders, with the enormous

magnitude of the scale upon which operations in space are carried on.

It is probable that a child’s vivid imagination puts him on a level

with the mathematician in dealing with the planetary system, with the

behaviour and character of Earth, with the causes of the seasons, and

much besides.

=Meaning of a Map.=--Then, again, geography should be learned

chiefly from maps. Pictorial readings and talks introduce him to

the subject, but so soon as his geography lessons become definite

they are to be learned, in the first place, from the map. This is an

important principle to bear in mind. The child who gets no ideas from

considering the map, say of Italy or of Russia, has no knowledge of

geography, however many _facts_ about places he may be able to

produce. Therefore he should begin this study by learning the meaning

of a map and how to use it. He must learn to draw a plan of his

schoolroom, etc., according to scale, go on to the plan of a field,

consider how to make the plan of his town, and be carried gradually

from the idea of a plan to that of a map; always beginning with the

notion of an explorer who finds the land and measures it, and by means

of sun and stars, is able to record just where it is on the earth’s

surface, east or west, north or south.

Now he will arrive at the meaning of the lines of latitude and

longitude. He will learn how sea and land are shown on a map, how

rivers and mountains are represented; and having learned his points

of direction and the use of his compass, and knowing that maps are

always made as if the beholder were looking to the north, he will

be able to tell a good deal about situation, direction, and the

like, in very early days. The fundamental ideas of geography and

the meaning of a map are subjects well fitted to form an attractive

introduction to the study. Some of them should awaken the delightful

interest which attaches in a child’s mind to that which is wonderful,

incomprehensible, while the map lessons should lead to mechanical

efforts equally delightful. It is only when presented to the child for

the first time in the form of stale knowledge and foregone conclusions

that the facts taught in such lessons appear dry and repulsive to

him. An effort should be made to treat the subject with the sort of

sympathetic interest and freshness which attracts children to a new

study.

XVIII.--HISTORY

=A Storehouse of Ideas.=--Much that has been said about the teaching

of geography applies equally to that of history. Here, too, is a

subject which should be to the child an inexhaustible storehouse

of ideas, should enrich the chambers of his House Beautiful with

a thousand tableaux, pathetic and heroic, and should form in him,

insensibly, principles whereby he will hereafter judge of the

behaviour of nations, and will rule his own conduct as one of a

nation. This is what the study of history should do for the child;

but what is he to get out of the miserable little chronicle of

feuds, battles, and death which is presented to him by way of ‘a

reign’--all the more repellent because it bristles with dates? As for

the dates, they never come right; the tens and units he can get, but

the centuries _will_ go astray; and how is he to put the right

events in the right reign, when, to him, one king differs from another

only in number, one period from another only in date? But he blunders

through with it; reads in his pleasant, chatty little history book all

the reigns of all the kings, from William the Conqueror to William

IV., and back to the dim days of British rule. And with what result?

This: that, possibly, no way of warping the judgment of the child, of

filling him with crude notions, narrow prejudices, is more successful

than that of carrying him through some such course of English history;

and all the more so if his little text-book be moral or religious

in tone, and undertake to point the moral as well as to record the

fact. Moral teaching falls, no doubt, within the province of history;

but the one small volume which the child uses affords no scope for

the fair and reasonable discussion upon which moral decisions should

be based, nor is the child old enough to be put into the judicial

attitude which such a decision supposes.

=‘Outlines’ Mischievous.=--The fatal mistake is in the notion that

he must learn ‘outlines,’ or a baby edition of the _whole_

history of England, or of Rome, just as he must cover the geography

of _all_ the world. Let him, on the contrary, linger pleasantly

over the history of a single man, a short period, until he thinks the

thoughts of that man, is at home in the ways of that period. Though he

is reading and thinking of the lifetime of a single man, he is really

getting intimately acquainted with the history of a whole nation for

a whole age. Let him spend a year of happy intimacy with Alfred, ‘the

truth-teller,’ with the Conqueror, with Richard and Saladin, or with

Henry V.--Shakespeare’s Henry V.--and his victorious army. Let him

know the great people and the common people, the ways of the court and

of the crowd. Let him know what other nations were doing while we at

home were doing thus and thus. If he come to think that the people of

another age were truer, larger-hearted, simpler-minded than ourselves,

that the people of some other land were, at one time, at any rate,

better than we, why, so much the better for him.

=So are most History Books written for Children.=--For the matter for

this intelligent teaching of history, eschew, in the first place,

nearly all history books written expressly for children; and in the

next place, all compendiums, outlines, abstracts whatsoever. For

the abstracts, considering what part the study of history is fitted

to play in the education of the child, there is not a word to be

said in their favour; and as for what are called children’s books,

the children of educated parents are able to understand history

written with literary power, and are not attracted by the twaddle of

reading-made-easy little history books. Given, judicious skipping, and

a good deal of the free paraphrasing mothers are so ready at, and the

children may be taken through the first few volumes of a well-written,

illustrated, popular history of England, say as far as the Tudors.

In the course of such reading a good deal of questioning into them,

and questioning out of them, will be necessary, both to secure their

attention and to fix the facts. This is the least that should be done;

but better than this would be fuller information, more graphic details

about two or three early epochs.

=Early History of a Nation best fitted for Children.=--The early

history of a nation is far better fitted than its later records for

the study of children, because the story moves on a few broad, simple

lines; while statesmanship, so far as it exists, is no more than the

efforts of a resourceful mind to cope with circumstances. Mr Freeman

has provided interesting early English history for children; but is

it not on the whole better to take them straight to the fountainhead,

where possible? In these early years, while there are no examinations

ahead, and the children may yet go leisurely, let them get the

_spirit_ of history into them by reading, at least, one old

_Chronicle_ written by a man who saw and knew something of what

he wrote about, and did not get it at secondhand. These old books

are easier and pleasanter reading than most modern works on history,

because the writers know little of the ‘dignity of history’; they purl

along pleasantly as a forest brook, tell you ‘all about it,’ stir

your heart with the story of a great event, amuse you with pageants

and shows, make you intimate with the great people, and friendly with

the lowly. They are just the right thing for the children whose eager

souls want to get at the living people behind the words of the history

book, caring nothing at all about progress, or statutes, or about

anything but the persons, for whose action history is, to the child’s

mind, no more than a convenient stage. A child who has been carried

through a single old chronicler in this way has a better foundation

for an historical training than if he knew all the dates and names and

facts that ever were crammed for examination.

=Some old Chronicles.=--First in order of time, and full of the

most captivating reading, is the _Ecclesiastical History of

England_[29] of the Venerable Bede, who, writing of himself so

early as the seventh century, says, “It was always sweet to me to

learn, to teach, and to write.” “He has left us,” says Professor

Morley, “a history of the early years of England, succinct, yet often

warm with life; business-like, and yet childlike in its tone; at

once practical and spiritual, simply just, and the work of a true

scholar, breathing love to God and man. We owe to Bede alone the

knowledge of much that is most interesting in our early history.”

William of Malmesbury (twelfth century) says of Bede, “That almost

all knowledge of past events was buried in the same grave with him”;

and he is no bad judge, for in his _Chronicles of the Kings of

England_ he himself is considered to have carried to perfection

the art of chronicle-making. He is especially vivid and graphic about

contemporary events--the story of the dreary civil war of Stephen and

Matilda. Meantime, there is Asser, who writes the life of Alfred,

whose friend and fellow-worker he is. “It seems to me right,” he

says, “to explain a little more fully what I have heard from my lord

Alfred.” He tells us how, “When I had come into his presence at the

royal villa, called Leonaford, I was honourably received by him, and

remained that time with him at his court about eight months, during

which I read to him whatever books he liked, and such as he had at

hand; for this is his most usual custom, both night and day, amid his

many other occupations of mind and body, either himself to read books,

or to listen whilst others read them.” When he was not present to see

for himself, as at the battle of Ashdown, Asser takes pains to get the

testimony of eye-witnesses. “But Alfred, as we have been told by those

who were present and would not tell an untruth, marched up promptly

with his men to give them battle; for King Ethelred remained a long

time in his tent in prayer.” Then there are _Chronicles of the

Crusades_, contemporary narratives of the crusades of Richard Cœur de

Lion, by Richard of Devizes, and Geoffrey de Vinsany, and of the

crusade of St Louis, by Lord John de Joinville.

It is needless to extend the list; one such old chronicle in a

year, or the suitable bits of one such chronicle, and the child’s

imagination is aglow, his mind is teeming with ideas; he has

had speech of those who have themselves seen and heard: and the

matter-of-fact way in which the old monks tell their tales is exactly

what children prefer. Afterwards, you may put any dull outlines into

their hands, and they will make _history_ for themselves.

=Age of Myths.=--But every nation has its heroic age before authentic

history begins: there were giants in the land in those days, and the

child wants to know about them. He has every right to revel in such

classic myths as we possess as a nation; and to land him in a company

of painted savages, by way of giving him his first introduction to

his people, is a little hard; it is to make his vision of the past

harsh and bald as a Chinese painting. But what is to be done? If

we ever had an Homeric age, have we not, being a practical people,

lost all record thereof? Here is another debt that we owe to those

old monkish chroniclers: the echoes of some dim, rich past had come

down to, at any rate, the twelfth century: they fell upon the ear

of a Welsh priest, one Geoffrey of Monmouth; and while William of

Malmesbury was writing his admirable _History of the Kings of

England_, what does Geoffrey do but weave the traditions of the

people into an orderly _History of the British Kings_, reaching

back all the way to King Brut, the grandson of Æneas. How he came to

know about kings that no other historian had heard of, is a matter he

is a little roguish about; he got it all, he says, out of “that book

in the British language which Walter, Archdeacon of Oxford, brought

out of Brittany.” Be that as it may, here we read of Gorboduc, King

Lear, Merlin, Uther Pendragon, and, best of all, of King Arthur, the

writer making ‘the little finger of his Arthur stouter than the back

of Alexander the Great.’ Here is, indeed, a treasure-trove which the

children should be made free of ten years before they come to read the

_Idylls of the King_. Some caution must, however, be exercised

in reading Geoffrey of Monmouth. His tales of marvel are delightful;

but when he quits the marvellous and romances freely about historical

facts and personages, he becomes a bewildering guide. Many of these

‘chronicles,’ written in Latin by the monks, are to be had in readable

English; the only caution to be observed is, that the mother should

run her eye over the pages before she reads them aloud.[30]

Froissart, again, most delightful of chroniclers, himself ‘tame’ about

the court of Queen Philippa, when he chose to be in England--from whom

else should the child get the story of the French wars? And so of as

much else as there is time for; the principle being, that, wherever

practicable, the child should get his first notions of a given period,

not from the modern historian, the commentator and reviewer, but from

the original sources of history, the writings of contemporaries. The

mother must, however, exercise discrimination in her choice of early

‘Chronicles,’ as all are not equally reliable.

=Plutarch’s ‘Lives.’=--In the same way, readings from Plutarch’s

_Lives_ will afford the best preparation for the study of Grecian

or of Roman history. Alexander the Great is something more than a name

to the child who reads this sort of thing:--

“When the horse Bucephalus was offered in sale to Philip,

at the price of thirteen talents (= £2518, 15s.), the king,

with the prince and many others, went into the field to see

some trial made of him. The horse appeared very vicious

and unmanageable, and was so far from suffering himself to

be mounted, that he would not bear to be spoken to, but

turned fiercely upon all the grooms. Philip was displeased

at their bringing him so wild and ungovernable a horse, and

bade them take him away. But Alexander, who had observed

him well, said, ‘What a horse are they losing for want of

skill and spirit to manage him!’

“Philip at first took no notice of this; but upon the

prince’s often repeating the same expression, and showing

great uneasiness, he said, ‘Young man, you find fault with

your elders as if you knew more than they, or could manage

the horse better.’

“‘And I certainly could,’ answered the prince.

“‘If you should not be able to ride him, what forfeiture

will you submit to for your rashness?’

“‘I will pay the price of the horse.’

“Upon this all the company laughed; but the king and

prince agreeing as to the forfeiture, Alexander ran to

the horse, and laying hold on the bridle, turned him to

the sun, for he had observed, it seems, that the shadow

which fell before the horse, and continually moved as he

moved, greatly disturbed him. While his fierceness and fury

lasted, he kept speaking to him softly and stroking him;

after which he gently let fall his mantle, leaped lightly

upon his back, and got his seat very safe. Then, without

pulling the reins too hard, or using either whip or spur,

he set him agoing. As soon as he perceived his uneasiness

abated, and that he wanted only to run, he put him in a

full gallop, and pushed him on both with the voice and spur.

“Philip and all his court were in great distress for him

at first, and a profound silence took place; but when the

prince had turned him and brought him safe back, they all

received him with loud exclamations, except his father, who

wept for joy, and kissing him, said, ‘Seek another kingdom,

my son, that may be worthy of thy abilities, for Macedonia

is too small for thee.’”

Here, again, in North’s inimitable translation, we get the sort of

vivid graphic presentation which makes ‘History’ as _real_ to the

child as are the adventures of Robinson Crusoe.

To sum up, to know as much as they may about even _one_ short

period, is far better for the children than to know the ‘outlines’ of

all history. And in the second place, children are quite able to take

in intelligent ideas in intelligent language, and should by no means

be excluded from the best that is written on the period they are about.

=History Books.=--It is not at all easy to choose the right history

books for children. Mere summaries of facts must, as we have seen, be

eschewed; and we must be equally careful to avoid generalisations.

The natural function of the mind, in the early years of life, is to

gather the material of knowledge with a view to that very labour of

generalisation which is proper to the adult mind; a labour which we

should all carry on to some extent for ourselves. As it is, our minds

are so poorly furnished that we accept the conclusions presented to

us without demur; but we can, at any rate, avoid giving children

cut-and-dried opinions upon the course of history while they are

yet young. What they want is graphic details concerning events and

persons upon which imagination goes to work; and opinions tend to form

themselves by slow degrees as knowledge grows.

Mr York Powell has, perhaps more than others, hit upon the right

teaching for the young children I have in view. In the preface to his

_Old Stories from British History_,[31] he says:--“The writer

has chosen such stories as he thought would amuse and please his

readers, and give them at the same time some knowledge of the lives

and thoughts of their forefathers. To this end he has not written

solely of great folk--kings and queens and generals--but also of plain

people and children, ay, and birds and beasts too”; and we get the

tale of King Lear and of Cuculain, and of King Canute and the poet

Otter, of Havelock and Ubba, and many more, all brave and glorious

stories; indeed, Mr. York Powell gives us a perfect treasure-trove in

his two little volumes of _Old Stories_ and _Sketches from

British History_,[31a] which are the better for our purpose, because

children can read them for themselves so soon as they are able to read

at all. These tales, written in good and simple English, and with

a certain charm of style, lend themselves admirably to narration.

Indeed, it is most interesting to hear children of seven or eight go

through a long story without missing a detail, putting every event in

its right order. These narrations are never a slavish reproduction of

the original. A child’s individuality plays about what he enjoys, and

the story comes from his lips, not precisely as the author tells it,

but with a certain spirit and colouring which express the narrator.

By the way, it is very important that children should be allowed to

narrate in their own way, and should not be pulled up or helped with

words and expressions from the text. A narration should be original

as it comes from a child--that is, his own mind should have acted

upon the matter it has received. Narrations which are mere feats of

memory are quite valueless. I have already spoken of the sorts of old

chronicles upon which children should be nourished; but these are

often too diffuse to offer good matter for narration, and it is well

to have quite fitting short tales for this purpose.

I should like to mention two other little volumes in which children

delight, which feed patriotic sentiment and lay a broad basis for

historical knowledge. I mean Mrs Frewen Lord’s _Tales from St

Paul’s_[32] and _Tales from Westminster Abbey_.[32a] It is a

beautiful and delightful thing to take children informed by these

tales to the Abbey or St Paul’s, and let them identify for themselves

the spots consecrated to their heroes. They know so much and are so

full of vivid interest that their elders stand by instructed and

inspired. There are, no doubt, multitudes of historical tales and

sketches for children, and some of them, like Miss Brooke Hunt’s

_Prisoners of the Tower_,[33] are very good; but let the mother

beware: there is nothing which calls for more delicate tact and

understanding sympathy with the children than this apparently simple

matter of choosing their lesson-books, and especially, perhaps, their

lesson-books in history.

Many children of eight or nine will be quite ready to read with

pleasure _A History of England_, by H. O. Arnold Forster, who

has long since won his spurs in the field of educational literature.

In this, as in matters of more immediate statecraft, Mr Arnold

Forster has the gift to see a defect and a remedy, an omission and

the means of supplying it. He saw that English children grew up

without any knowledge of the conditions under which they live, and

of the laws which govern them; but, since the appearance of _The

Citizen Reader_ and _The Laws of Every-day Life_, we have

changed all that. _The History of England_, or, as the children

call it, _History_, ignoring the fact that there is any other

history than that of England, has hitherto been presented to young

people as “outlines of dates and facts, or as collections of romantic

stories, with little coherence and less result on the fortunes of the

country.” Mr Arnold Forster says in his preface that he “is reluctant

to introduce his book by any such repellent title as ‘A Summary,’ or

‘An Outline of English History.’ Such titles seem on the face of them

to imply that the element of interest and the romance inseparable from

the life and doings of individuals are excluded, and that an amplified

chronological table has been made to do duty for history. But to read

English history and fail to realise that it is replete with interest,

sparkling with episode, and full of dramatic incident, is to miss all

the pleasure and most of the instruction which its study, if properly

pursued, can give.” The author fulfils his implied promise, and his

work is, I venture to say, as “replete with interest, sparkling with

episode, and full of dramatic incident” as is possible, considering

the limitations imposed upon him by the facts that he writes for

uneducated readers, and gives us a survey of the whole of English

History in a pleasant, copiously and wisely illustrated volume of

some eight hundred pages. How telling and lucid this is, for example,

and how we all wish we had come across such a paragraph in our early

studies of architecture:--“On page 23 we have pictures of two windows.

One of them is what is called a _Pointed_ window. All the arches

in it go up to a point. It was built a long time before the Tudor

period. The other was built in the time of Queen Elizabeth. In it the

upright shaft, or _mullion_, of the window goes straight up to

the top without forming an arch. This style of building a window is

called the _Perpendicular Style_, because the mullions of the

windows are ‘perpendicular.’ Some of the most famous buildings in

England built in Tudor times, and in the perpendicular style, are the

Chapel of King’s College, Cambridge, and Hatfield House, the residence

of the Marquis of Salisbury, in Hertfordshire.” Mr Arnold Forster has

done in this volume for children and the illiterate, what Professor

Green did in his _Shorter History of England_ for somewhat

more advanced students, awakening many to the fact that history is

an entrancing subject of study. This is a real introduction to real

history. The portraits are an especially valuable feature of the work.

=Dates.=--In order to give definiteness to what may soon become a

pretty wide knowledge of history--mount a sheet of cartridge-paper

and divide it into twenty columns, letting the first century of the

Christian era come in the middle, and let each remaining column

represent a century B.C. or A.D., as the case may be.

Then let the child himself write, or print, as he is able, the names

of the people he comes upon in due order, in their proper century. We

need not trouble ourselves at present with more exact dates, but this

simple table of the centuries will suggest a graphic panorama to the

child’s mind, and he will see events in their time-order.

=Illustrations by the Children.=--History readings afford admirable

material for narration, and children enjoy narrating what they have

read or heard. They love, too, to make illustrations. Children who had

been reading _Julius Cæsar_ (and also, Plutarch’s _Life_),

were asked to make a picture of their favourite scene, and the results

showed the extraordinary power of visualising which the little people

possess. Of course that which they visualise, or imagine clearly, they

know; it is a life possession.

The drawings of the children in question are psychologically

interesting as showing what various and sometimes obscure points

appeal to the mind of a child; and also, that children have the same

intellectual pleasure as persons of cultivated mind in working out

new hints and suggestions. The drawings, be it said, leave much to

be desired, but they have this in common with the art of primitive

peoples: they tell the tale directly and vividly. A girl of nine and a

half pictures Julius Cæsar conquering Britain. He rides in a chariot

mounted on scythes, he is robed in blue, and bits of blue sky here

and there give the complementary colour. In the distance, a soldier

plants the ensign bearing the Roman eagle, black on a pink ground! In

the foreground, is a hand-to-hand combat between Roman and Briton,

each having a sword of enormous length. Other figures are variously

employed.

Another, gives us Antony ‘making his speech after the death of Cæsar.’

This girl, who is older, gives us architecture; you look through an

arch, which leads into a side street, and, in the foreground, Antony

stands on a platform at the head of a flight of marble steps. Antony’s

attitude expresses indignation and scorn. Below, is a crowd of Romans

wearing the toga, whose attitudes show various shades of consternation

and dismay. Behind, is Antony’s servant in uniform, holding his

master’s horse; and on the platform, in the rear of Antony, lies

Cæsar, with the royal purple thrown over him. The chief value of the

drawing, as a drawing, is that it tells the tale.

Another girl draws Calpurnia begging Cæsar not to go to the Senate.

Cæsar stands armed and perturbed, while Calpurnia holds his

outstretched hand with both of hers as she kneels before him, her face

raised in entreaty; her loose blue night-robe and long golden hair

give colour to the picture. This artist is fourteen, and the drawing

is better done.

Another artist presents Brutus and Portia in the orchard with a

‘south-wall’ of red brick, espaliers, and two dignified figures which

hardly tell their tale.

Another child gives us the scene in the forum, Cæsar seated in royal

purple, Brutus kneeling before him, and Casca standing behind his

chair with outstretched hand holding a dagger, saying “Speak, hands,

for me,” while Cæsar says, “Doth not Brutus bootless kneel?”

Again, we get Lucius playing to Brutus in the tent. Brutus, armed

cap-à-pie, seated on a stool, is vainly trying to read, while Lucius,

a pretty figure, seated before him, plays the harp. The two sentries,

also fully armed, are stretched on the floor sound asleep.

Another, gives us Claudius dressed as a woman at the women’s

festival--the ladies with remarkable eyes, and each carrying a flaming

torch.

Another pictures, with great spirit, Cæsar reading his history to the

conquered Gauls, who stand in rows on the hillside listening to the

great man with exemplary patience.

In these original illustrations (several of them by older children

than those we have in view here), we get an example of the various

images that present themselves to the minds of children during the

reading of a great work; and a single such glimpse into a child’s mind

convinces us of the importance of sustaining that mind upon strong

meat. Imagination does not stir at the suggestion of the feeble,

much-diluted stuff that is too often put into children’s hands.

=‘Playing at’ History.=--Children have other ways of expressing the

conceptions that fill them when they are duly fed. They play at their

history lessons, dress up, make tableaux, act scenes; or they have a

stage, and their dolls act, while they paint the scenery and speak the

speeches. There is no end to the modes of expression children find

when there is anything in them to express.

The mistake we make is to suppose that imagination is fed by nature,

or that it works on the insipid diet of children’s story-books. Let a

child have the meat he requires in his history readings, and in the

literature which naturally gathers round this history, and imagination

will bestir itself without any help of ours; the child will live out

in detail a thousand scenes of which he only gets the merest hint.

XIX.--GRAMMAR

=Grammar a Difficult Study.=--Of _grammar_, Latin and English, I

shall say very little here. In the first place, grammar, being a study

of _words_ and not of _things_, is by no means attractive

to the child, nor should he be hurried into it. English grammar,

again, depending as it does on the position and logical connection

of words, is peculiarly hard for him to grasp. In this respect the

Latin grammar is easier; a change in the form, the _shape_ of the

word, to denote case, is what a child can see with his bodily eye, and

therefore is plainer to him than the abstract ideas of nominative and

objective case as we have them in English. Therefore, if he learns no

more at this early stage than the declensions and a verb or two, it

is well he should learn thus much, if only to help him to see what

English grammar would be at when it speaks of a change in case or

mood, yet shows no change in the form of the word.

=Latin Grammar.=--Of the teaching of Latin grammar, I think I cannot

do better than mention a book for beginners that really answers.

Children of eight and nine take to this _First Latin Course_

(Scott and Jones)[34] very kindly, and it is a great thing to begin a

study with pleasure. It is an open question, however, whether it is

desirable to begin Latin at so early an age.

=English Grammar a Logical Study.=--Because English grammar is a

logical study, and deals with _sentences_ and the positions that

words occupy in them, rather than with _words_, and what they are

in their own right, it is better that the child should begin with the

_sentence_, and not with the parts of speech; that is, that he

should learn a little of what is called _analysis_ of sentences

before he learns to parse; should learn to divide simple sentences

into the thing we speak of, and what we say about it--‘The cat--sits

on the hearth’--before he is lost in the fog of person, mood, and part

of speech.

“‘So then I took up the next book. It was about grammar. It said

extraordinary things about nouns and verbs and particles and pronouns,

and past participles and objective cases and subjunctive moods. ‘What

are all these things?’ asked the King. ‘I don’t know, your Majesty,’

and the Queen did not know, but she said it would be very suitable for

children to learn. It would keep them quiet.’”[35]

It is so important that children should not be puzzled as were this

bewildered King and Queen, that I add a couple of introductory grammar

lessons; as a single example is often more useful than many precepts.

LESSON I

Words put together so as to make sense form what is called a sentence.

‘Barley oats chair really good and cherry’ is not a sentence, because

it makes no(n)sense.

‘Tom has said his lesson’ is a sentence.

It is a sentence because it tells us something about Tom.

Every sentence speaks of someone or of something, and tells us

something about that of which it speaks.

So a sentence has two parts:

(1) The thing we speak of;

(2) What we say about it.

In our sentence, we speak of ‘Tom.’

We say about him that he ‘has learned his lesson.’

The thing we speak of is often called the SUBJECT, which just

means that which we talk about.

People sometimes say ‘the _subject_ of conversation was so and

so,’ which is another way of saying ‘the thing we were speaking about

was so and so.’

_To be learnt_--

Words put together so as to make sense form a sentence.

A sentence has two parts: that which we speak of, and what we say

about it.

That which we speak of is the SUBJECT.

_Exercises on Lesson I_

1. Put the first part to--

---- has a long mane.

---- is broken.

---- cannot do his sums.

---- played for an hour; etc., etc.

2. Put the second part to--

That poor boy ----.

My brother Tom ----.

The broken flowerpot ----.

Bread and jam ----.

Brown’s tool-basket ----; etc., etc.

3. Put six different subjects to each half sentence in 1.

4. Make six different sentences with each subject in 2.

5. Say which part of the sentence is wanting, and supply it in--

Has been mended

Tom’s knife

That little dog

Cut his finger

Ate too much fruit

My new book

The snowdrops in our garden, etc., etc.

_N.B._--Be careful to call the first part of each sentence the

_subject_.

Draw a line under the subject of each sentence in all the exercises.

LESSON II

We may make a sentence with only two words--the name of the thing we

speak of and what we say about it:--

John writes.

Birds sing.

Mary sews.

We speak about ‘John.’

We say about him that he ‘writes.’

We speak about ‘birds.’

We say about them that they ‘sing.’

These words, _writes_, _sing_, _sews_, all come out of the same group

of words, and the words in that group are the chief words of all, for

this reason--we cannot make sense, and therefore cannot make a

sentence, without using at least one of them.

They are called VERBS, which means _words_, because they are the chief

_words_ of all.

A verb always tells one of two things about the subject. Either it

tells what the subject _is_, as--

I _am_ hungry.

The chair _is_ broken.

The birds _are_ merry;

or it tells what the subject does, as--

Alice _writes_.

The cat _mews_.

He _calls_.

_To be learnt_--

We cannot make a sentence without a verb.

_Verb_ means _word_.

Verbs are the chief words.

Verbs show that the subject is something--

He is sleepy;

or does something--

He runs.

_Exercises on Lesson II_

1. Put in a verb of being:--

Mary ---- sleepy.

Boys ---- rough.

Girls ---- ---- quiet.

He ---- first yesterday.

I ---- a little boy.

Tom and George ---- swinging before dinner.

We ---- ---- busy to-morrow.

He ---- ---- punished; etc., etc.

2. Make three sentences with each of the following verbs:--_Is_,

_are_, _should be_, _was_, _am_, _were_, _shall be_, _will be_.

3. Make six sentences with verbs of being in each.

4. Put a verb of doing to--

Tigers ----.

The boy with the pony ----.

My cousins ----; etc., etc.

5. Make twenty sentences about--

That boy in kilts,

with verbs showing what he _does_.

6. Find the verbs, and say whether of _being_ or _doing_,

in--

The bright sun rises over the hill.

We went away.

You are my cousin.

George goes to school.

He took his slate.

We are seven.

7. Count how many verbs you use in your talk for the next ten minutes.

8. Write every verb you can find in these exercises, and draw a line

under it.

XX.--FRENCH

French should be acquired as English is, not as a grammar, but as a

living speech. To train the ear to distinguish and the lips to produce

the French vocables is a valuable part of the education of the senses,

and one which can hardly be undertaken too soon. Again, all educated

persons should be able to speak French. Sir Lyon Playfair, once

speaking at a conference of French masters, lamented feelingly our

degeneracy in this respect, and instanced the grammar school of Perth

to show that in a Scotch school in the sixteenth century the boys were

required to speak _Latin_ during school hours, and _French_

at all other times. There is hardly another civilised nation so dull

in acquiring foreign tongues as we English of the present time; but,

probably, the fault lies rather in the way we set about the study than

in any natural incapacity for languages.

As regards French, for instance, our difficulties are twofold--the

want of a vocabulary, and a certain awkwardness in producing

unfamiliar sounds. It is evident that both these hindrances should be

removed in early childhood. The child should never see French words in

print until he has learned to say them with as much ease and readiness

as if they were English. The desire to give printed combinations of

letters the sounds they would bear in English words is the real cause

of our national difficulty in pronouncing French. Again, the child’s

vocabulary should increase steadily, say, at the rate of half a dozen

words a day. Think of fifteen hundred words in a year! The child who

has that number of words, and knows how to apply them, can speak

French. Of course, his teacher will take care that, in giving words,

she gives idioms also, and that as he learns new words, they are

_put into sentences and kept in use from day to day_. A note-book

in which she enters the child’s new words and sentences will easily

enable the teacher to do this. The young child has no foolish shame

about _saying_ French words--he pronounces them as simply as if

they were English; but it is very important that he should acquire

a pure accent from the first. It is not often advisable that young

English children should be put into the hands of a French governess or

nurse; but would it not be possible for half a dozen families, say, to

engage a French lady, who would give half an hour daily to each family?

=M. Gouin’s Method.=--A serious effort is being made to approach the

study of foreign languages rationally and scientifically. I have no

hesitation in saying that M. Gouin’s work (_The Art of Teaching

and Studying Languages_)[36] is the most important attempt that

has yet been made to bring the study of languages within the sphere

of practical education. Indeed, the great reform in our methods of

teaching modern languages owe their origin to this remarkable work.

The initial idea, that we must acquire a new language as a child

acquires his mother tongue, is absolutely right, whether the attempt

to follow this idea out by analysing a language into a certain

number, say fifteen, exhaustive ‘series,’ be right or not. Again,

it is incontestable that the ear, and not the eye, is the physical

organ for apprehending a language, just as truly as it is by the

mouth, and not the ear, we appropriate food. If M. Gouin’s book

establish these two points only, it will be a valuable contribution

to educational thought. Equally important is his third position, that

the verb is the key to the sentence, and more, is the living bridge

between thought and act. He maintains, too, that the child thinks in

sentences, not in words; that his sentences have a logical sequence;

that this sequence is one of time--the order of the operations in,

for example, the growth of a plant, or the grinding of corn in a

mill; that, as the child perceives the operations, he has an absolute

need to express them; that his ear solicits, his memory cherishes,

his tongue reproduces, the words which say the thing he thinks. No

doubt M. Gouin’s method should be more successful than any other in

steeping the student (child or man) in German or French thought. If

you are all day long trying to work out a ‘series’ in French, say,

you come to think in French, to ‘dream in French,’ to _speak_

French. Moreover, one has a delightful sense that at last the way is

made clear to us to conduct all teaching in the language under study.

You have the ‘Art Series’ and the ‘Bee Series’ and the ‘River’ and the

‘Character Series’ and the ‘Poet Series,’ and any series you like. You

think the thing out in the order of time and natural sequence; you get

the right _verbs_, nouns, and such epithets as are necessary,

follow suit, and in amazingly few sentences, very short sentences too,

connected by ‘and,’ you have said _all_ that is essential to the

subject. The whole thing is a constant surprise, like the children’s

game which unearths the most extraordinary and out-of-the-way thing

you can think of by means of a dozen or so questions.

=The ‘Series.’=--Thus, a language learned by M. Gouin’s method is ‘a

liberal education in itself.’ One learns how few and simple are, after

all, the conceptions of which the human mind is cognisant, and how few

and simple, putting mere verbiage aside, are the words necessary to

express these.

You really learn to _think_ in the new language, because you

have no more than vague impressions about these acts or facts in your

mother tongue.

You order your thoughts in the new language, and, having done so, the

words which express these are an inalienable possession.

Here is an example of an elementary ‘Series,’ showing how ‘the servant

lights the fire’:

“The servant takes a box of matches, _takes_.

She opens the match-box, _opens_.

She takes out a match, _takes out_.

She shuts up the match-box, _shuts up_.

She strikes the match on the cover, _strikes_.

The match takes fire, _takes fire_.

The match smokes, _smokes_.

The match flames, _flames_.

The match burns, _burns_.

And spreads a smell of burning over the kitchen, _spreads_.

The servant bends down to the hearth, _bends down_.

Puts out her hand, _puts out_.

Puts the match under the shavings, _puts_.

Holds the match under the shavings, _holds_.

The shavings take fire, _take fire_.

The servant leaves go of the match, _leaves go_.

Stands up again, _stands up_.

Looks at her fire burning, _looks_.

And puts back the box of matches in its place, _puts back_.”

But any attempt to quote gives an uncertain and unsatisfactory idea of

this important work.

=How does the Child learn?=--Whatever may be said of M. Gouin’s

methods, the steps by which he arrives at them are undoubtedly

scientific. He learns from a child:

“Unhappily the child has remained up to the present a

hackneyed riddle, which we have never taken sufficient

trouble to decipher or examine....”

“The little child, which at the age of two years utters

nothing but meaningless exclamations, at the age of three

finds itself in possession of a complete language. How does

it accomplish this? Does this miracle admit of explanation

or not? Is it a problem of which there is a possibility of

finding the unknown quantity?... The organ of language--ask

the little child--is not the eye: it is the ear. The eye

is made for colours, and not for sounds and words.... This

tension, continuous and contrary to nature, of the organ of

sight, the forced precipitancy of the visual act, produced

what it was bound to produce, a disease of the eyesight.”

This refers to M. Gouin’s herculean labours in the attempt to learn

German. He knew everybody’s ‘Method,’ learned the whole dictionary

through, and found at the end that he did not know _one word_ of

German ‘as she is spoke.’

He returned to France, after a ten months’ absence, and found that his

little nephew--whom he had left, a child of two and a half, not yet

able to talk--had in the interval done what his uncle had signally

failed to do. “‘What!’ I thought; ‘this child and I have been working

for the same time, each at a language. He, playing round his mother,

running after flowers, butterflies and birds, without weariness,

without apparent effort, without even being conscious of his work,

is able to say all he thinks, express all he sees, understand all

he hears; and when he began his work, his intelligence was yet a

futurity, a glimmer, a hope. And I, versed in the sciences, versed in

philosophy, armed with a powerful will, gifted with a powerful memory

... have arrived at nothing, or at practically nothing!’”

“The linguistic science of the college has deceived me, has misguided

me. The classical method, with its grammar, its dictionary, and its

translations, is a delusion.” “To surprise Nature’s secret, I must

watch this child.”

M. Gouin watches the child--the work in question is the result of his

observations.

The method of teaching may be varied, partly because that recommended

by M. Gouin requires a perfect command of the French tongue, and

teachers who are diffident find a conversational method founded on

book and picture[37] easier to work and perhaps as effectual--more so,

some people think; but, be this as it may, it is to M. Gouin we owe

the fundamental idea.

It is satisfactory to find principles, which we have urged

continually, enunciated in this most thoughtful work. For example:

“If one learns French without being able to read it--as the child

does--there will be no longer much greater difficulty in pronouncing

it than in pronouncing words in English. ‘How about the spelling?’

you will ask. The spelling? You would learn it as the young French

children learn it, as you yourself have learnt the English spelling,

ten times more difficult than the French; and this without letting

the study of the spelling spoil your already acquired pronunciation.

Besides, the spelling is a thing that can be reformed--the

pronunciation hardly at all. We must choose between the two evils.”

M. Gouin speaks of the possibility of a child’s picking up another

tongue--even Chinese from a Chinese nurse; and his words remind

me of an extraordinary instance of a child’s facility in picking

up languages, which once came before me. Having occasion to speak

in public of three little children, all aged three, belonging to

different families, where one parent was English, the other German,

I said that these three children of my acquaintance could each say

everything they had to say, express the whole range of their ideas,

with equal ease and fluency in the two languages. At the close of the

meeting, a gentleman present came forward and endorsed my remarks.

He said he had a son whose wife was a German lady, and who was now

a missionary in Bagdad. They have a child of three, and their child

speaks _three_ languages with perfect fluency--English, German,

and Arabic! No doubt the child will forget two of the three, and this

is no argument for teaching foreign tongues to babies, but surely it

does prove that the acquisition of a foreign tongue need not present

insuperable difficulties to any of us.

XXI.--PICTORIAL ART

=Study of Pictures.=--The art training of children should proceed on

two lines. The six-year-old child should begin both to express himself

and to appreciate, and his appreciation should be well in advance

of his power to express what he sees or imagines. Therefore it is

a lamentable thing when the appreciation of children is exercised

only upon the coloured lithographs of their picture-books or of the

‘Christmas number.’ But the reader will say, ‘A young child cannot

appreciate art; it is only the colour and sentiment of a picture that

reach him. A vividly coloured presentation of Bobbie’s Birthday, or

of Barbara’s Broken Doll, will find its way straight to his “business

and bosom.”’ ‘Therefore,’ says the reader, ‘Nature indicates the

sort of art proper for the children!’ But, as a matter of fact, the

minds of children and of their elders alike accommodate themselves

to what is put in their way; and if children appreciate the vulgar

and sentimental in art, it is because that is the manner of art to

which they become habituated. A little boy of about nine was (with

many others) given reproductions of some half-dozen of the pictures

of Jean François Millet to study during a school term. At the end,

the children were asked to describe the one of these pictures which

they liked best. Of course they did it, and did it well. This is what

the little boy I mentioned makes of it:--“I liked the Sower best. The

sower is sowing seeds; the picture is all dark except high up on the

right-hand side where there is a man ploughing the field. While he is

ploughing the field the sower sows. The sower has got a bag in his

left hand and is sowing with his right hand. He has wooden clogs on.

He is sowing at about six o’clock in the morning. You can see his head

better than his legs and body, because it is against the light.”

A little girl of seven prefers the ‘Angelus,’ and says:--“The picture

is about people in the fields, a man and a woman. By the woman is a

basket with something in it; behind her is a wheelbarrow. They are

praying; the man has his hat off in his hand. You can tell that it is

evening, because the wheelbarrow and the basket are loaded.”

=Should be Regular.=--When children have begun regular lessons (that

is, as soon as they are six), this sort of study of pictures should

not be left to chance, but they should take one artist after another,

term by term, and study quietly some half-dozen reproductions of his

work in the course of a term.

The little memory outlines I have quoted show that something definite

remains with a child after his studies; but this is the least of the

gains. We cannot measure the influence that one or another artist

has upon the child’s sense of beauty, upon his power of seeing, as

in a picture, the common sights of life; he is enriched more than

we know in having really looked at even a single picture. It is a

mistake to think that colour is quite necessary to children in their

art studies. They find colour in many places, and are content, for

the time, with form and feeling in their pictures. By the way, for

schoolroom decorations, I know of nothing better than the Fitzroy

Pictures,[38] especially those of the Four Seasons, where you get

beauty, both of line and colour, and poetic feeling. I should like,

too, to quote Ruskin’s counsel that English children should be brought

up on Jean Richter’s picture-books for children, the _Unser Vater,

Sontag_,[38a] and the rest.

I subjoin notes of a lesson on a Picture-talk[39] given to children of

eight and nine, to show how this sort of lesson may be given.

PICTURE-TALK

“_Objects_

“1. To continue the series of Landseer’s pictures the children are

taking in school.

“2. To increase their interest in Landseer’s works.

“3. To show the importance of his acquaintance with animals.

“4. To help them to read a picture truly.

“5. To increase their powers of attention and observation.

“_Step I._--Ask the children if they remember what their

last picture-talk was about, and what artist was famous for

animal-painting. Tell them Landseer was acquainted with animals when

he was quite young: he had dogs for pets, and because he loved them he

studied them and their habits--so was able to paint them.

“_Step II._--Give them the picture ‘Alexander and Diogenes’ to

look at, and ask them to find out all they can about it themselves,

and to think what idea the artist had in his mind, and what idea or

ideas he meant his picture to convey to us.

“_Step III._--After three or four minutes, take the picture

away and see what the children have noticed. Then ask them what

the different dogs suggest to them: the strength of the mastiff

representing Alexander; the dignity and stateliness of the bloodhounds

in his rear; the look of the wise counsellor on the face of the

setter; the rather contemptuous look of the rough-haired terrier in

the tub. Ask the children if they have noticed anything in the picture

which shows the time of day: for example, the tools thrown down by

the side of the workman’s basket suggesting the mid-day meal; and the

bright sunshine on the dogs who cast a shadow on the tub shows it must

be somewhere about noon.

“_Step IV._--Let them read the title, and tell any facts they know

about Alexander and Diogenes; then tell them Alexander was a great

conqueror who lived B.C. 356-323, famous for the battles he won

against Persia, India, and along the coast of the Mediterranean. He

was very proud, strong, and boastful. Diogenes was a cynic

philosopher. Explain cynic, illustrating by the legend of Alexander

and Diogenes; and from it find out which dog represents Alexander and

which Diogenes.

“_Step V._--Let the children draw the chief lines of the picture,

in five minutes, with pencil and paper.”

=Original Illustrations.=--I have spoken, from time to time, of

original illustrations drawn by the children. It may be of use to

subjoin notes of a lesson[40] showing the sort of occasional help a

teacher may give in this kind of work; but in a general way it is best

to leave children to themselves.

“_Objects_

“1. To help the children to make clear mental pictures from

description, and to reproduce the same in painting.

“2. To increase their power of imagination.

“3. To help them in their ideas of form and colour.

“4. To increase their interest in the story of Beowulf by letting them

illustrate a scene from the book they are reading.

“5. To bring out their idea of an unknown creature (Grendel).

“_Steps_

“_Step I._--To draw from the children what they know of the poem

‘Beowulf,’ and of the hero himself.

“_Step II._--To tell them any points they may miss in the story,

as far as they have read (_i.e._ to the death of Grendel).

“_Step III._--To read the description of the dress at that time,

and the account of Grendel’s death (including three possible pictures).

“_Step IV._--To draw from the children what mental pictures they

have made--and to re-read the passage.

“_Step V._--To let them produce their mental picture with brush

and paint.

“_Step VI._--To show them George Harrow’s ‘original illustration’

of Beowulf in _Heroes of Chivalry and Romance_.”

=Drawing Lessons.=--But ‘for their actual drawing lessons,’ says the

reader, ‘I suppose you use “blobs”?’--‘blobs,’ _i.e._ splashes

of paint made with the flat of the brush, which take an oval form.

I think blobs have one use--they give a certain freedom in using

colour. Otherwise ‘blobs’ seem to me a sort of apparatus of art which

a child acquires with a good deal of labour, and with which, by proper

combinations into flowers, and so on, he can produce effects beyond

his legitimate power as an artist, while all the time he can do this

without a particle of the feeling for the natural object which is the

very soul of art. The power of effective creation by a sort of clever

trick maims those delicate feelers of a child’s nature by which he

apprehends art.

“Let the eye” (says Ruskin) “but rest on a rough piece of branch

of curious form during a conversation with a friend, rest, however

unconsciously, and though the conversation be forgotten, though every

circumstance connected with it be as utterly lost to the memory as

though it had not been, yet the eye will, through the whole life

after, take a certain pleasure in such boughs which it had not

before, a pleasure so slight, a trace of feeling so delicate, as to

leave us utterly unconscious of its peculiar power, but undestroyable

by any reasoning, a part thenceforward of our constitution.”

This is what we wish to do for children in teaching them to draw--to

cause the eye to rest, not unconsciously, but consciously, on some

object of beauty which will leave in their minds an image of delight

for all their lives to come. Children of six and seven draw budding

twigs of oak and ash, beech and larch, with such tender fidelity to

colour, tone, and gesture, that the crude little drawings are in

themselves things of beauty.

=Children have ‘Art’ in them.=--With art, as with so many other things

in a child, we must believe that it is there, or we shall never find

it. Once again, here is a delicate Ariel whom it is our part to

deliver from his bonds. Therefore we set twig or growing flower before

a child and let him deal with it as he chooses. He will find his own

way to form and colour, and our help may very well be limited at first

to such technical matters as the mixing of colours and the like.

In order that we may not impede the child’s freedom or hinder the

deliverance of the art that is in him, we must be careful not to offer

any aids in the way of guiding lines, points, and such other crutches;

and, also, he should work in the easiest medium, that is, with paint

brush or with charcoal, and _not_ with a black-lead pencil. Boxes

of cheap colours are to be avoided. Children are worthy of the best,

and some half-dozen tubes of really good colours will last a long

time, and will satisfy the eye of the little artists.

=Clay-modelling.=--While speaking of the art training of children,

it may be as well to give a word to clay-modelling. Neat little

birds’-nests, baskets of eggs, etc., are of no use in the way of art

development, and soon cease to be amusing. The chief thing the teacher

has to do is to show the child how to prepare his clay so as to expel

air-bubbles, and to give him the idea of making a little platform for

his work, so that it may from the first have an artistic effect. Then

put before him an apple, a banana, a Brazil nut, or the like; let him,

not take a lump of clay and squeeze it into shape, but build up the

shape he desires morsel by morsel. His own artistic perception seizes

on the dint in the apple, the crease in the child’s shoe, the little

notes of expression in the objects which break uniformity and make for

art.

=The Piano and Singing.=--I must close, with the disappointing sense

that subjects of importance in the child’s education have been left

out of count, and that no one matter has been adequately treated.

Certain subjects of peculiar educational value, music, for instance, I

have said nothing about, partly for want of space, and partly because

if the mother have not Sir Joshua Reynolds’s _‘that!_’ in her,

hints from an outsider will not produce the art-feeling which is the

condition of success in this sort of teaching. If possible, let the

children learn from the first under _artists_, lovers of their

work: it is a serious mistake to let the child lay the foundation

of whatever he may do in the future under ill-qualified mechanical

teachers, who kindle in him none of the enthusiasm which is the

life of art. I should like, in connection with singing, to mention

the admirable educational effects of the Tonic Sol-fa method.[41]

Children learn by it in a magical way to produce sign for sound and

sound for sign, that is, they can not only read music, but can write

the notes for, or make the proper hand signs for, the notes of a

passage sung to them. Ear and voice are simultaneously and equally

cultivated.

Mrs Curwen’s _Child Pianist_[42] method is worked out, with

minute care, upon the same lines; that is, the child’s knowledge of

the theory of music and his ear training keep pace with his power

of execution, and seem to do away with the deadly dreariness of

‘practising.’

=Handicrafts and Drills.=--It is not possible to do more than mention

two more important subjects--the Handicrafts and Drills--which should

form a regular part of a child’s daily life. For physical training

nothing is so good as Ling’s Swedish Drill, and a few of the early

exercises are within the reach of children under nine. Dancing, and

the various musical drills, lend themselves to grace of movement, and

give more pleasure, if less scientific training, to the little people.

The Handicrafts best fitted for children under nine seem to me to

be chair-caning, carton-work, basket-work, Smyrna rugs, Japanese

curtains, carving in cork, samplers on coarse canvas showing a variety

of stitches, easy needlework, knitting (big needles and wool),

etc. The points to be borne in mind in children’s handicrafts are:

(_a_) that they should not be employed in making futilities

such as pea and stick work, paper mats, and the like; (_b_)

that they should be taught slowly and carefully what they are to do;

(_c_) that slipshod work should not be allowed; (_d_) and

that, therefore, the children’s work should be kept well within their

compass.

May I hope, in concluding this short review of the subjects proper for

a child’s intellectual education, that enough has been said to show

the necessity of grave consideration on the mother’s part before she

allows promiscuous little lesson-books to be put into the hands of her

children, or trusts ill-qualified persons to strike out methods of

teaching for themselves?

FOOTNOTES:

[9] See Appendix A.

[10] See Appendix A.

[11] See Appendix A.

[12] See Appendix A.

[13] Quoted by Mr Thistleton Mark.

[14] Southey’s _Life of Wesley_.

[15] It is so important that children should be taught to read in a

rational way, that I introduce two papers (by the writer) which have

appeared in the _Parents’ Review_, in the hope that they will

make the suggested method fairly clear and familiar.

[16] Miss Miller, founder of a Training College at Oxford.

[17] Spirited nursery rhymes form the best material for such reading

lessons. A “Delightful Reading Box” has been issued on a similar plan

to the ‘Pussy’ Box, whose one fault is that the verses are a little

dull. But this ‘Box’ should be of great use.

[18] It is desirable that ‘Tommy’ should not begin to ‘read’ until his

intelligence is equal to the effort required by these lessons. Even

then, it may be well to break up one into two, or half a dozen, as he

is able to take it.

[19] Appendix A.

[20] See Appendix A.

[21] See Appendix A.

[22] See Appendix A.

[23] See Appendix A.

[24] See Appendix A.

[25] See Appendix A.

[26] _Parents’ Review_, April 1904.

[27] See Appendix A.

[28] See Appendix A.

[29] See Appendix A.

[30] Bohn’s Antiquarian Library (5s. a volume) includes Bede, William

of Malmesbury, Dr Giles’s _Six Old English Chronicles_--Asser

and Geoffrey of Monmouth being two of them--_Chronicles of the

Crusaders_, etc.

[31] See Appendix A.

[32] See Appendix A.

[33] See Appendix A.

[34] See Appendix A.

[35] _Palace Tales_, H. Fielding.

[36] See Appendix A.

[37] See Appendix A.

[38] See Appendix A.

[39] By a student of the House of Education.

[40] By a student of the House of Education.

[41] See Appendix A.

[42] See Appendix A.