days.” “Sketch the character and manners of Addison. How does he
appear in _Esmond_?”

It is a great thing to possess a pageant of history in the
background of one’s thoughts. We may not be able to recall this or
that circumstance, but, ‘the imagination is warmed’; we know that
there is a great deal to be said on both sides of every question
and are saved from crudities in opinion and rashness in action. The
present becomes enriched for us with the wealth of all that has
gone before.

Perhaps the gravest defect in school curricula is that they fail to
give a comprehensive, intelligent and interesting introduction to
history. To leave off or even to begin with the history of our own
country is fatal. We cannot live sanely unless we know that other
peoples are as we are with a difference, that their history is as
ours, with a difference, that they too have been represented by
their poets and their artists, that they too have their literature
and their national life. We have been asleep and our awaking is
rather terrible. The people whom we have not taught, rise upon us
in their ignorance and ‘the rabble,’--

      “As the world were now but to begin
      Antiquity forgot, custom not known,
      They cry,--‘Choose we!’”
                               (_Hamlet._)

Heaven help their choice for choosing is indeed with them, and
little do they know of those two ratifiers and props of every
present word and action, Antiquity and Custom! It is never too late
to mend but we may not delay to offer such a liberal and generous
diet of History to every child in the country as shall give weight
to his decisions, consideration to his actions and stability to his
conduct; that stability, the lack of which has plunged us into many
a stormy sea of unrest.

It is to be noted that ‘stability’ is the mark of the educated
classes. When we reflect upon the disturbance of the national
life by labour unrest and, again, upon the fact that political
and social power is passing into the hands of the majority, that
is of the labouring classes, we cannot but feel that there is a
divine fitness, a providential adaptation in the circumstance
that the infinite educability of persons of all classes should
be disclosed to us as a nation at a time when an emotional and
ignorant labouring class is a peculiar danger. I am not sure that
the education implied in the old symbol of the ladder does make
for national tranquility. It is right that equal opportunity of
being first should be afforded to all but that is no new thing. Our
history is punctuated by men who have risen, and the Roman Church
has largely founded herself as has the Chinese Empire upon this
doctrine of equal opportunity. But let us remember that the men
who climb are apt to be uneasy members of society; the desire for
knowledge for its own sake, on the other hand, finds satisfaction
in knowledge itself.

The young men see visions; the hardships of daily life are
ameliorated, and while an alert and informed mind leads to decency
and propriety of living it does not lead to the restless desire to
subvert society for the sake of the chances offered by a general
upheaval. Wordsworth is right:--

      “If rightly trained and bred Humanity is humble.”

We live in times critical for everybody but eminently critical for
teachers because it rests with them to decide whether personal
or general good should be aimed at, whether education shall be
merely a means of getting on or a means of general progress towards
high thinking and plain living and therefore an instrument of the
greatest national good.[31]

II

THE KNOWLEDGE OF MAN

(_b_) LITERATURE

Except in Form I the study of Literature goes _pari passu_ with
that of History. Fairy tales, (Andersen or Grimm, for example),
delight Form IB, and the little people re-tell these tales
copiously, vividly, and with the astonishing exactness we may
expect when we remember how seriously annoyed they are with
the story-teller who alters a phrase or a circumstance. Æsop’s
_Fables_, too, are used with great success, and are rendered, after
being once heard, with brevity and point, and children readily
appropriate the moral. Mrs. Gatty’s _Parables from Nature_, again,
serve another purpose. They feed a child’s sense of wonder and are
very good to tell. There is no attempt to reduce the work of this
form, or any other, to a supposed ‘child level.’ Form IA (7 to 9)
hears and tells chapter by chapter _The Pilgrim’s Progress_ and the
children’s narrations are delightful. No beautiful thought or bold
figure escapes them. Andrew Lang’s _Tales of Troy and Greece_, a
big volume, is a _pièce de resistance_ going on from term to term.

The great tales of the heroic age find their way to children’s
hearts. They conceive vividly and tell eagerly, and the difficult
classical names instead of being a stumbling-block are a delight,
because, as a Master of a Council school says,--

  “Children have an instinctive power by which they are able to
  sense the meaning of a whole passage and even some difficult
  words.”

That the sonorous beauty of these classical names appeals to them
is illustrated by a further quotation from the same Master,--

  “A boy of about seven in my school the other day asked his mother
  why she had not given him one of those pretty names they heard in
  the stories at school. He thought Ulysses a prettier name than
  his own, Kenneth, and that the mother of his playmate might have
  called him Achilles instead of Alan.”

There is profound need to cultivate delight in beautiful names
in days when we are threatened with the fear that London itself
should lose that rich halo of historic associations which glorifies
its every street and alley, that it may be made like New York,
and should name a street X500,--like a workhouse child without
designation; an age when we express the glory and beauty of the
next highest peak of the Himalayas by naming it K2! In such an age,
this, of their inherent aptitude for beautiful names, is a lode of
much promise in children’s minds. The Kaffir who announced that
his name was ‘Telephone’ had an ear for sound. Kingsley’s _Water
Babies_, _Alice in Wonderland_, Kipling’s _Just So Stories_, scores
of exquisite classics written for children, but not written down to
them, are suitable at this stage.

Form IIB has a considerable programme of reading, that is, not the
mere mechanical exercise of reading but the reading of certain
books. Therefore it is necessary that two years should be spent
in Form IA and that in the second of these two years the children
should read a good deal of the set work for themselves. In IIB
they read their own geography, history, poetry, but perhaps
Shakespeare’s _Twelfth Night_, say, Scott’s _Rob Roy_, _Gulliver’s
Travels_, should be read to them and narrated by them until they
are well in their tenth year. Their power to understand, visualise,
and ‘tell’ a play of Shakespeare from nine years old and onwards is
very surprising. They put in nothing which is not there, but they
miss nothing and display a passage or a scene in a sort of curious
relief. One or two books of the calibre of _The Heroes of Asgard_
are also included in the programme for the term.

The transition to Form IIA is marked by more individual reading
as well as by a few additional books. The children read their
‘Shakespeare play’ in character. Certain Council School boys, we
are told, insist on dramatising Scott as they read it. Bulfinch’s
_Age of Fable_ admits them to the rich imaginings of peoples who
did not yet know. Goldsmith’s poems and Stevenson’s _Kidnapped_,
etc., may form part of a term’s work, and in each and all children
shew the same surprising power of knowing, evinced by the one sure
test,--they are able to ‘tell’ each work they have read not only
with accuracy but with spirit and originality. How is it possible,
it may be asked, to show originality in ‘mere narration’? Let us
ask Scott, Shakespeare, Homer, who told what they knew, that is
narrated, but with continual scintillations from their own genius
playing upon the written word. Just so in their small degree do the
children narrate; they see it all so vividly that when you read or
hear their versions the theme is illuminated for you too.

Children remain in Form II until they are twelve, and here I would
remark on the evenness with which the power of children in dealing
with books is developed. We spread an abundant and delicate feast
in the programmes and each small guest assimilates what he can.
The child of genius and imagination gets greatly more than his
duller comrade but all sit down to the same feast and each one gets
according to his needs and powers.

The surprises afforded by the dull and even the ‘backward’ children
are encouraging and illuminating. We think we know that man is an
educable being, but when we afford to children all that they want
we discover how straitened were our views, how poor and narrow
the education we offered. Even in so-called deficient children we
perceive,--

  “What a piece of work is man.... In apprehension, how like a god!”

In Forms III and IV we introduce a _History of English Literature_
carefully chosen to afford sympathetic interest and delight while
avoiding stereotyped opinions and stale information. The portion
read each term (say fifty pages) corresponds with the period
covered in history studies and the book is a great favourite with
children. They have of course a great _flair_ for Shakespeare,
whether _King Lear_, _Twelfth Night_, _Henry V_, or some other
play, and _The Waverleys_ usually afford a contemporary tale.
There has been discussion in Elementary Schools as to whether
an abridged edition would not give a better chance of getting
through the novel set for a term, but strong arguments were brought
forward at a conference of teachers in Gloucester in favour of
a complete edition. Children take pleasure in the ‘dry’ parts,
descriptions and the like, rendering these quite beautifully
in their narrations. Form IV may have quite a wide course of
reading. For instance if the historical period for a term include
the Commonwealth, they may read _L’Allegro_, and _Il Penseroso_,
_Lycidas_, and contemporary poets as represented in a good
anthology, or, for a later period, Pope’s _Rape of the Lock_, or
Gray’s poems, while Form III read poems of Goldsmith and Burns. The
object of children’s literary studies is not to give them precise
information as to who wrote what in the reign of whom?--but to give
them a sense of the spaciousness of the days, not only of great
Elizabeth, but of all those times of which poets, historians and
the makers of tales, have left us living pictures. In such ways the
children secure, not the sort of information which is of little
cultural value, but wide spaces wherein imagination may take those
holiday excursions deprived of which life is dreary; judgment, too,
will turn over these folios of the mind and arrive at fairly just
decisions about a given strike, the question of Poland, Indian
Unrest. Every man is called upon to be a statesman seeing that
every man and woman, too, has a share in the government of the
country; but statesmanship requires imaginative conceptions, formed
upon pretty wide reading and some familiarity with historical
precedents.

The reading for Forms V and VI (ages 15 to 18) is more
comprehensive and more difficult. Like that in the earlier Forms,
it follows the lines of the history they are reading, touching
current literature in the occasional use of modern books; but young
people who have been brought up on this sort of work may, we find,
be trusted to keep themselves _au fait_ with the best that is being
produced in their own days. Given the proper period, Form V would
cover in a term Pope’s _Essay on Man_, Carlyle’s _Essay on Burns_,
Frankfort Moore’s _Jessamy Bride_, Goldsmith’s _Citizen of the
World_ (edited), Thackeray’s _The Virginians_, the contemporary
poets from an anthology. Form VI would read Boswell, _The Battle of
the Books_, Macaulay’s _Essays_ on Goldsmith, Johnson, Pitt; the
contemporary poets from _The Oxford Book of Verse_, and both Forms
read _She Stoops to Conquer_. This course of reading, it will be
seen, is suggestive and will lead to much reading round and about
it in later days. As for the amount covered in each Form, it is
probably about the amount most of us cover in the period of time
included in a school term, but while we grown-up persons read and
forget because we do not take the pains to _know_ as we read, these
young students have the powers of perfect recollection and just
application because they have read with attention and concentration
and have in every case reproduced what they have read in narration,
or, the gist of some portion of it, in writing.

The children’s answers[32] in their examination papers, show that
literature has become a living power in the minds of these young
people.

II

THE KNOWLEDGE OF MAN

(_c_) MORALS AND ECONOMICS: CITIZENSHIP

Like Literature this subject, too, is ancillary to History. In Form
I, children begin to gather conclusions as to the general life of
the community from tales, fables and the story of one or another
great citizen. In Form II, Citizenship becomes a definite subject
rather from the point of view of what may be called the inspiration
of citizenship than from that of the knowledge proper to a citizen,
though the latter is by no means neglected. We find Plutarch’s
_Lives_ exceedingly inspiring. These are read aloud by the teacher
(with suitable omissions) and narrated with great spirit by the
children. They learn to answer such questions as,--“In what ways
did Pericles make Athens beautiful? How did he persuade the people
to help him?” And we may hope that the idea is engendered of
preserving and increasing the beauty of their own neighbourhood
without the staleness which comes of much exhortation. Again, they
will answer,--“How did Pericles manage the people in time of war
lest they should force him to act against his own judgment?” And
from such knowledge as this we may suppose that the children begin
to get a sympathetic view of the problems of statesmanship. Then,
to come to our own time, they are enabled to answer,--“What do
you know of (_a_) County Councils, (_b_) District Councils, (_c_)
Parish Councils?”--knowledge which should make children perceive
that they too are being prepared to become worthy citizens, each
with his several duties. Our old friend Mrs. Beesley’s _Stories
from the History of Rome_ helps us here in Form IIB instead of
Plutarch, illumined by Macaulay’s _Lays of Ancient Rome_. In giving
children the knowledge of men and affairs which we class under
‘Citizenship’ we have to face the problem of good and evil. Many
earnest-minded teachers will sympathise with one of their number
who said,--

  “Why give children the tale of Circe, in which there is such
  an offensive display of greediness, why not bring them up
  exclusively on heroic tales which offer them something to live up
  to? Time is short. Why not use it all in giving examples of good
  life and instruction in good manners?”

Again,--

  “Why should they read any part of _Childe Harold_, and so become
  familiar with a poet whose works do not make for edification?”

Now Plutarch is like the Bible in this, that he does not label the
actions of his people as good or bad but leaves the conscience
and judgment of his readers to make that classification. What to
avoid and how to avoid it, is knowledge as important to the citizen
whether of the City of God or of his own immediate city, as to know
what is good and how to perform the same. Children recognise with
incipient weariness the doctored tale as soon as it is begun to be
told, but the human story with its evil and its good never flags in
interest. Jacob does not pall upon us though he was the elect of
God. We recognise the justice of his own verdict on himself, “few
and evil have been the days of my life.” We recognise the finer
integrity of the foreign kings and rulers that he is brought in
contact with, just as in the New Testament the Roman Centurion is
in every case a finer person than the religious Jew. Perhaps we
are so made that the heroic which is all heroic, the good which
is all virtuous, palls upon us, whereas we preach little sermons
to ourselves on the text of the failings and weaknesses of those
great ones with whom we become acquainted in our reading. Children
like ourselves must see life whole if they are to profit. At the
same time they must be protected from grossness and rudeness by
means of the literary medium through which they are taught. A daily
newspaper is not on a level with Plutarch’s _Lives_, nor with
Andrew Lang’s _Tales of Troy and Greece_, though possibly the same
class of incidents may appear in both. The boy, or girl, aged from
ten to twelve, who is intimate with a dozen or so of Plutarch’s
_Lives_, so intimate that they influence his thought and conduct,
has learned to put his country first and to see individuals only as
they serve or dis-serve the State. Thus he gets his first lesson in
the science of proportion. Children familiar with the great idea
of a State in the sense, not of a government but of the people,
learn readily enough about the laws, customs and government of
their country; learn, too, with great interest something about
themselves, mind and body, heart and soul, because they feel it is
well to know what they have it in them to give to their country.

We labour under a difficulty in choosing books which has exercised
all great thinkers from Plato to Erasmus, from Erasmus to the
anxious Heads of schools to-day. I mean the coarseness and
grossness which crop up in scores of books desirable otherwise for
their sound learning and judgment. Milton assures us with strong
asseveration that to the pure all things are pure; but we are
uneasy. When pupils in the higher forms read the _Areopagitica_
they are safeguarded in some measure because they perceive that to
see impurity is to be impure. The younger children are helped by
the knowledge we offer them in _Ourselves_, and chastely taught
children learn to watch over their thoughts ‘because of the
angels.’ So far as we can get them we use expurgated editions; in
other cases the book is read aloud by the teacher with necessary
omissions. We are careful not to associate the processes of nature
whether in the plant or animal world with possible thoughts of
impurity in the mind of a child. One point I should like to touch
upon in this connection. The excessive countenance sometimes
afforded to games by the Heads of schools is not altogether for the
sake of distinction in the games. “I keep under my body,” says St.
Paul, and games which exhaust the physical powers have as their
unspoken _raison d’être_ the desire to keep boys and girls decent.
No doubt they do so to some extent though painful occurrences
come to light in even the best schools. Now a fact not generally
recognised is that offences of the kind which most distress parents
and teachers are _bred in the mind_ and in an empty mind at that.
That is why parents, who endeavour to save their sons from the
corruption of the Public School by having them taught at home,
are apt to miss their mark. The abundant leisure afforded by home
teaching offers that empty chamber swept and garnished which
invites sins that can be committed in thought and in solitude. Our
schools err, too, in not giving anything like enough work of the
kind that from its absorbing interest compels reflection and tends
to secure a mind continually and wholesomely occupied. Supply a
boy with abundant mental pabulum, not in the way of desultory
reading, (that is a sort of idleness which leads to mischief), but
in the way of matter to be definitely known, give him much and
sound food for his imagination, speculation, aspiration, and you
have a wholesome-minded youth to whom work is a joy and games not a
strain but a healthy relaxation and pleasure. I make no apology for
what may appear like a divergence from the subject of citizenship,
because all boys and girls should know that they owe a sound mind
and a sound body as their personal contribution alike to their city
and their State.

_Ourselves, our Souls and Bodies_ (by the Writer) is much used
in the P.U.S., as I know of no other attempt to present such a
ground plan of human nature as should enable the young student to
know where he is in his efforts to ‘be good’ as the children say.
The point of view taken in this volume is, that all beautiful and
noble possibilities are present in every one; but that each person
is subject to assaults and hindrances in various ways of which he
should be aware in order that he may watch and pray. Hortatory
teaching is apt to bore both young people and their elders; but an
ordered presentation of the possibilities and powers that lie in
human nature, and of the risks that attend these, can hardly fail
to have an enlightening and stimulating effect.

But the objects we have in view in teaching ‘Everyday Morals’ and
‘Citizenship’ cannot be better illustrated than by a few papers[33]
written by children of various ages, dealing with self management,
and exemplifying the virtues that help and serve city and country.
“Oh dear,” said a little girl coming out of a swimming bath, “I’m
just like Julius Cæsar, I don’t care to do a thing at all if I’m
not best at it.” So, in unlikely ways, and from unlikely sources,
do children gather that little code of principles which shall guide
their lives.

II

THE KNOWLEDGE OF MAN

(_d_) COMPOSITION

Composition in Form I (A and B) is almost entirely oral and is so
much associated with Bible history, English history, geography,
natural history, that it hardly calls for a special place on the
programme, where however it does appear as ‘Tales.’ In few things
do certain teachers labour in vain more than in the careful and
methodical way in which they teach composition to young children.
The drill that these undergo in forming sentences is unnecessary
and stultifying, as much so perhaps as such drill would be in the
acts of mastication and deglutination. Teachers err out of their
exceeding goodwill and generous zeal. They feel that they cannot
do too much for children and attempt to do for them those things
which they are richly endowed to do for themselves. Among these
is the art of composition, that art of ‘telling’ which culminates
in a Scott or a Homer and begins with the toddling persons of
two and three who talk a great deal to each other and are surely
engaged in ‘telling’ though no grown-up, not even a mother, can
understand. But children of six can tell to amazing purpose. The
grown-up who writes the tale to their ‘telling’ will cover many
pages before getting to the end of “Hans and Gretel” or “The Little
Match Girl” or a Bible story. The facts are sure to be accurate and
the expression surprisingly vigorous, striking and unhesitating.
Probably few grown-ups could ‘tell’ one of Æsop’s _Fables_ with
the terse directness which children reproduce. Neither are the
children’s narrations incoherent; they go on with their book,
week by week, whatever comes at a given time,--whether it be
Mrs. Gatty’s _Parables from Nature_, Andersen or Grimm or _The
Pilgrim’s Progress_, from the point where they left off,--and there
never is a time when their knowledge is scrappy. They answer such
questions as,--“Tell about the meeting of Ulysses and Telemachus,”
or, “about Jason and Hera.” “Tell how Christian and Hopeful met
with Giant Despair,” or, “about the Shining Ones.”

Children are in Form IA from 7 to 9 and their reading is wider
and their composition more copious. They will ‘tell’ in their
examinations about the Feeding of the Four Thousand, about the
Building of the Tabernacle, How Doubting Castle was demolished,
about the burning of Old St. Paul’s, How we know that the world is
round and a great deal besides; for all their work lends itself to
oral composition and the power of such composition is innate in
children and is not the result of instruction. Two or three points
are important. Children in IB require a quantity of matter to be
read to them, graduated, not according to their powers which are
always present, but they require a little time to employ their
power of fixed attention and that other power which they possess of
fluent narration. So probably young children should be allowed to
narrate paragraph by paragraph, while children of seven or eight
will ‘tell’ chapter by chapter. Corrections must not be made during
the act of narration, nor must any interruption be allowed.

Children must not be teased or instructed about the use of stops
or capital letters. These things too come by nature to the child
who reads, and the teacher’s instructions are apt to issue in the
use of a pepper box for commas. We do not say that children should
never read well-intentioned second-rate books, but certainly they
should not read these in school hours by way of lessons. From their
earliest days they should get the habit of reading literature which
they should take hold of for themselves, much or little, in their
own way. As the object of every writer is to explain himself in
his own book, the child and the author must be trusted together,
without the intervention of the middle-man. What his author does
not tell him he must go without knowing for the present. No
explanation will really help him, and explanations of words and
phrases spoil the text and should not be attempted unless children
ask, What does so and so mean? when other children in the class
will probably tell.

Form II (A and B), (ages 9 to 12). Children in this Form have
a wider range of reading, a more fertile field of thought, and
more delightful subjects for composition. They write their little
essays themselves, and as for the accuracy of their knowledge
and justice of their expression, why, ‘still the wonder grows.’
They will describe their favourite scene from _The Tempest_ or
_Woodstock_. They write or ‘tell’ stories from work set in Plutarch
or Shakespeare or tell of the events of the day. They narrate from
English, French and General History, from the Old and the New
Testament, from _Stories from the History of Rome_, from Bulfinch’s
_Age of Fable_, from, for example, Goldsmith’s or Wordsworth’s
poems, from _The Heroes of Asgard_: in fact, Composition is not
an adjunct but an integral part of their education in every
subject. The exercise affords very great pleasure to children,
perhaps we all like to tell what we know, and in proportion as
their composition is entirely artless, it is in the same degree
artistic and any child is apt to produce a style to be envied for
its vigour and grace. But let me again say there must be no attempt
to teach composition. Our failure as teachers is that we place too
little dependence on the intellectual power of our scholars, and
as they are modest little souls what the teacher kindly volunteers
to do for them, they feel that they cannot do for themselves. But
give them a fair field and no favour and they will describe their
favourite scene from the play they have read, and much besides.

Forms III and IV. In these Forms as in I and II what is called
‘composition’ is an inevitable consequence of a free yet exact use
of books and requires no special attention until the pupil is old
enough to take of his own accord a critical interest in the use of
words. The measured cadences of verse are as pleasing to children
as to their elders. Many children write verse as readily as prose,
and the conciseness and power of bringing their subject matter to
a point which this form of composition requires affords valuable
mental training. One thing must be borne in mind. Exercises in
scansion are as necessary in English as in Latin verse. Rhythm and
accent on the other hand take care of themselves in proportion as a
child is accustomed to read poetry. In III and IV as in the earlier
Forms, the matter of their reading during the term, topics of the
day, and the passing of the Seasons, afford innumerable subjects
for short essays or short sets of verses of a more abstract nature
in IV than in III: the point to be considered is that the subject
be one on which, to quote again Jane Austen’s expression, the
imagination of the children has been ‘warmed,’ They should be asked
to write upon subjects which have interested them keenly. Then when
the terminal examination comes they will respond to such a question
as,--“Write twelve lines (which must scan) on ‘Sir Henry Lee,’ or
‘Cordelia,’ or Pericles, or Livingstone,” or, to take a question
from the early day’s of the War, “Discuss Lord Derby’s Scheme. How
is it working?”; or, (IV) an essay on “The new army in the making,
shewing what some of the difficulties have been and what has been
achieved.”

Forms V and VI. In these Forms some definite teaching in the art
of composition is advisable, but not too much, lest the young
scholars be saddled with a stilted style which may encumber them
for life. Perhaps the method of a University tutor is the best that
can be adopted; that is, a point or two might be taken up in a
given composition and suggestions or corrections made with little
talk. Having been brought up so far upon stylists the pupils are
almost certain to have formed a good style; because they have been
thrown into the society of _many_ great minds, they will not make a
servile copy of any one but will shape an individual style out of
the wealth of material they possess; and because they have matter
in abundance and of the best they will not write mere verbiage.
Here is an example of a programme set for a term’s work in these
two Forms,--“A good précis; letters to _The Times_ on topics of the
day; subjects taken from the term’s work in history and literature;
or notes on a picture study; dialogues between characters occurring
in your literature and history studies; ballads on current events;
(VI) essays on events and questions of the day; a patriotic play in
verse or prose.” Here are questions set for another term,--“Write
a pæan, rhymed or in blank verse, on the Prince of Wales’s tour
in the Dominions.” “An essay, dated 1930, on the imagined work of
the League of Nations.” Form V, “Write a woeful ballad touching
the condition of Ireland, or, a poem on the King’s garden party to
the V.C.’s.” “An essay on the present condition of England, or, on
President Wilson.”

The response of the young students to such a scheme of study is
very delightful. What they write has literary and sometimes poetic
value, and the fact that they can write well is the least of the
gains acquired. They can read, appreciating every turn of their
author’s thought; and they can bring cultivated minds to bear on
the problems of the hour and the guiding of the State; that is
to say, their education bears at every point on the issues and
interests of every day life, and they shew good progress in the art
of becoming the magnanimous citizens of the future. Here are a few
examples[34] of the compositions of the several Forms.

(F. B. IIA. Council School.)

ARMISTICE DAY

      Soldiers dying, soldiers dead,
      Bullets whizzing overhead.
      Tommies standing cheerily by.
      Waiting for their time to die;
      Soon the lull of firing comes,
      And naught is heard but the roll of drums.

      And now the last shell crashes down,
      A soldier reels in pain
      Too late the glad news comes to him.
      He never moves again,
      He is the Unknown Warrior,
      A man without a name.

      Two years have passed and home he comes,
      To the hearts that loved him well,
      Who is the Unknown Warrior,?
      No lips the tale can tell,
      His tomb is in the Abbey,
      Where the souls of Heroes dwell.

      A nations sorrow and a nations tears,
      Have gone with the nameless man,
      Who knows, who can tell, the Warriors name,
      We think that no man can,
      So let our sorrow turn to joy
      On the grave of the Unknown man.

(A. B. 13¾. III.)

_Write some lines, in blank verse, that must scan on one of the
following: (a), Scylla and Charybdis; (b), The White Lady of
Avenel; (c), The Prince of Wales in India._

THE WHITE LADY OF AVENEL

      The sun had set and night was drawing on,
      The hills stood black against the twilight sky.
      A faint young crescent moon shone dimly forth
      Casting a pale and ghostly radiance
      Upon the group of pine trees on the hill,
      And silvering the rivers eddying swirl.
      Now all was silent, not a sound disturbed
      The summer night, and not a breath of wind
      Stirred in the pines. All nature slept in peace.
      But what was that, standing up in the shade?
      A woman, straight, and slim, all clad in white,
      Upon her long soft hair a misty crown,
      And ever and anon she deeply sighed,
      Leaning against the rugged mountain rock,
      Like to a moon beam, or a wisp of smoke.
      And on her shimmering, moonlit, robe she wore
      A golden girdle, in whose links was woven
      The fortunes of the house of Avenel.
      A cloud past o’er the moon, and the slim ghost
      Faded and disapeared into the air.
      A breeze sprang up among the pine trees tall;
      And then the river murmuring on its way
      Whispered a sad lament unto the night.

(K. L. 13½. III.)

_Write in Ballad Metre some lines on “Armistice Day” or “Echo.”_

ARMISTICE DAY, or THE UNKNOWN WARRIOR

      Within the ancient Abbey’s sacred pyle,
      Which proudly guards the noblest of our dead.
      Where kings and statesmen lie in every aisle,
      And honoured poets, soldiers, priests are laid;

      Behold a stranger comes. From whence is he?
      Is he of noble birth; of rank or fame?
      Was he as great as any whom we see
      Around, who worked to make themselves a name?

      Surely he is a prince, nay, e’en a king?
      For see the waiting thousands gathered here;
      And hear the streets of ancient London ring
      To the slow tramp of men who guard his bier!

      And, surely, ’tis the King himself who comes
      As chiefest mourner on this solemn day,
      And these who walk behind him are his sons--
      All here to mourn this man. Who is he? Say!

      How long the ranks of men who follow him
      To his last resting-place--the House of God.
      Our bishops, soldiers, statesmen all are here,
      Gathered to lay him in his native sod.

      You ask “Is he a prince?” I answer “No!
      Though none could be interred with greater state!
      This man went forth to guard us from a foe,
      Which threatened this our land--He did his work!”

      He raised the flag of Liberty on high
      And challenging the powers of Wrong and Might
      He gave up all he had without a sigh
      And died for the good cause of God and Right.

Nor is a sense of humour wanting,--

(M. O. 13. III.)

_Write in Ballad Metre some lines on “Echo.”_

ECHO

      Jupiter once went away from his wife
        To flirt with some nymphs in a wood
      But Juno, suspecting that he was with them
        Came after as fast as she could.

      Now Echo, a nymph, knew that Juno was there
        That the nymphs they would soon be found out,
      And so she kept Juno away from the wood
        For if they had gone she did doubt.

      But Juno knew all; and her anger was great
        And Echo this dreadful thing heard
      “Since you are so fond of talking, from now
        You only shall have the last word!”

      Now Echo went far from the dwellings of men
        And spent her sad life all alone
      And often she’d weep and think of the past
        And over her fate make her moan.

      Echo loved a Greek youth, but he could not love her.
        And she watched him all day from her bower
      Till she pined away, all but her voice, which lives still,
        And the youth was turned into a flower.

(R. C. 15. III. Elementary, Convent School.)

_Write some verses on (a) ‘Dandie Dinmont,’ or, (b) ‘Atalanta,’ or,
(c) Allenby._

      Atlanta was a huntress,
      Who dearly loved the chase.
      She out-ran the deer in fleetness,
      And possessed a lovely face.

      Many eager suiters sought her,
      But they sought her all in vain,
      For she vowed she’d never marry
      And her suiters all were slain.

      She had heeded well the warning,
      From a witch well skilled in lore,
      Who had told her if she married,
      Happiness was hers no more.

      Then a youth whom Venus favoured,
      Came one day to run the race,
      And by throwing golden apples,
      He out-ran her in the chase.

      In their hour of joy and triumph
      Venus they forget to thank,
      And the goddess sore offended,
      Lowered them to the wild beast’s rank.

(J. T. III.)

      Phaëton was a wilful youth who always got his way.
      He asked to drive his father’s charge upon a certain day.
      But Phœbus knowing well what danger lurkéth in the sky,
      Implored of him to wish again and not that task to try.
      But Phaëton determined was to best this dangerous way,
      And leaped into the chariot to spite his father’s sway.
      The horses started forward at a dashing headlong pace,
      Phaëton tried to hold them back and modify the race.
      With dreadful swiftness on he flew, losing his proper road,
      The earth and sky began to smoke in an alarming mode.
      At length when all had burst in flames, Jupiter cried aloud,
      Phaëton who had lost his head was killed beneath a cloud.

(H. E. M. 15-8/12 IV.)

_Write thirty lines of blank verse on (a), “A Spring Morning”
(following “A Winter Morning Walk”), or, (b), Pegasus, or, (c),
Allenby._

A SPRING MORNING.

      ’Tis Spring; and now the birds with merry song
      Sing with full-throated voice to the blue sky
      On which small clouds float, soft as a dove’s wing.
      Against the blue the pale-green leaflet gleams.
      The darker green of elder, further down,
      Sets off the brilliance of the hawthorn-hedge.
      Close to the ground, the purple violet peeps
      From out its nest of overhanging leaves.
      On yonder bank the daffodils toss their heads
      Under the shady lichen trees so tall.
      Close by a chesnut, bursting into leaf,
      Drops down it’s sticky calyx on the ground;
      An early bumble-bee dives headlong in
      To a half-opened flower of early pear.
      O’erhead, in the tall beech trees, busy rooks,
      With great caw-caws and many angry squawks
      Build their great clumsy nests with bits of twig
      And little sticks just laid upon a bough.
      And by the long, straight, path tall fir trees wave
      Their graceful heads in the soft whisp’ring breeze
      And pressed against one ruddy trunk, an owl
      In vain tries to avoid the light of day,
      But blinks his wise old eyes, and shakes himself,
      And nestles close amid the sheltering leaves.
      Now on the rhubarb-bed we see, glad sight,
      Large red buttons, which promise fruit quite soon
      And further down the lettuce shoots up pale
      Next to a row of parsley, getting old.
      But see the peas, their curly tendrils green
      Clinging to their stout pea-sticks for support.

(B. B. 15. IV.)

A SPRING MORNING

          Soft on the brown woods
          A pale light gleams,
          And slowly spreading seems
      To change the brown wood to a land of dreams,
        Where beneath the trees
        The great god Pan,
        Doth pipe, half goat, half man,
        To satyrs dancing in the dawning wan.
        And then comes Phœbus,
        The visions fade
        And down the dewy glade
      The rabbits scuttle o’er the rings they made.
        In the fields near-by
          The cattle rise
        And where the river lies
      A white mist rises to the welcoming skies.
        Where the downs arise
        And blue sky crowns
        Their heads, fast o’er the mounds
      The mist is driv’n to where the ocean sounds.
        White wings against blue sky,
        Gulls from the cliffs rise,
        Watching, with eyes
      That see from shore to where the sky line lies,
        Where blue sea fades in bluer skies
          Soft, doth the tide creep
          O’er the golden sands
          With sea-weed strands
      Which, mayhap, knew the dawn of other lands.

(R. B. IV.)

_Write thirty lines of blank verse on “Pegasus.”_

      The sky was blue and flecked with tiny clouds
      Like sheep they ran before the driving wind
      The sun was setting like a big red rose
      The clouds that flew by him like rose-buds were
      And as I gaz’d I saw a little cloud
      White as the flower that rises in the spring
      Come nearer, nearer, nearer as I looked
      And as it came it took a diff’rent shape
      It seemed to turn into a fairy steed.
      White as the foam that rides the roaring waves
      Still it flew on until it reached the earth
      And galloping full lightly came to me
      And then I saw it was a wondrous thing
      It leapt about the grass and gently neighed
      I heard its voice sound like a crystal flute
      “Oh come” he said “with me ascend the sky
      Above the trees, above the hills we’ll soar
      Until we reach the home of all the gods
      There will we stay and feast awhile with them
      And dance with Juno and her maidens fair
      And hear dear Orpheus and the pipes of Pan
      And wander, wander, wander up above”
      “Oh fairy steed, oh angel steed” I said
      “Horse fit for Jupiter himself to ride
      What is thy name I pray thee tell me this”
      Then came the magic voice of him again
      “If thou wilt know my name then come with me.”
      Yet tell me first I hesitating said
      He told me and when I had heard the name
      I leapt upon his back and flew with him.

(A. B. 16. V.)

_Some verses, in the metre of Pope’s “Essay on Man,” on the meeting
of the League of Nations._

      From each proud kingdom and each petty state
      The statesmen meet together to debate
      Upon the happy time when wars shall cease
      And joy shall reign, and universal peace.
      No more shall day with radience cruelly bright
      Glare down upon the carnage of the fight.
      No more shall night’s dark cloak be rent aside
      By flashing shells and searchlight’s stealthy glide
      No more shall weary watchers wait at home
      With straining eyes for those that cannot come
      The nations shall forget their strife and greed
      The strong shall help the weak in time of need
      May they succeed in every peaceful plan
      If war can cease as long as man is man.

(E. H. 16-11/12. V.)

_Gather up in blank verse the impressions you have received from
your reading of Tennyson’s poems._

      Take up a volume of the poet’s works,
      Read on, lay it aside, and take thy pen,
      Endeavour in a few, poor, worthless lines
      To give expression of thy sentiments....
      Surely this man loved all the joys of life,
      Saw beauty in the smallest and the least,
      Put plainer things that hitherto were dim,
      And lit a candle in the darkest room.
      His thoughts, now sad, now gay, may surely be
      The solace sweet for many a weary hour,
      His words, drunk deeply, seem to live and burn
      Clear, radiant, gleaming from the printed page.
      Nature to him was dear and so has made
      Her wiles for other men a treasure vast.
      Old Books, his master mind could comprehend
      Are shown to us as pictures to a child.
      Read on--and when the volume’s put away,
      Muse on the learnings thou hast found therein;
      The time thus spent thou never will repent,
      For love of good things all should seek and find.

(E. P. H. 16-11/12 V.)

A LULLABY SONG

      The little waves are sighing on the shore,
      And the little breezes sobbing in the trees;
      But the little stars are shining,
      In the sky’s blue velvet lining,
      And Lady Sleep is tapping at the door.

      The little gulls are flying home to shore,
      And the little lights are flashing from the ships,
      But close your eyes, my sweet,
      And be ready then to greet
      Dear Lady Sleep who’s tapping at the door.

      The wind is rising all around the shore,
      And the fishing boats speed home before the gale;
      But hark not to the rain
      That is lashing on the pane,
      For Lady Sleep has entered by the door.

      The storm has sunk the ships and swept the shore,
      But there’s weeping in the town and on the quay,
      But, sweet, you’re dreaming fast
      Even though the dawn be past,
      And Lady Sleep has gone, and closed the door.

(M. H. 17⅓. VI.)

_Write a letter in the manner of Gray on any Modern Topic._

  Mr. Gray to Mr. ----     At Torquay.

  My dear ----

  “Savez vous que je vous hais, que je vous deteste--voici des
  termes un peu forts,” still, I think that they are justified,
  imagine leaving a friend for two months in this place without
  once taking up the pen upon his behalf. If this neglect be due
  only to your low spirits, I will for once pardon you but only
  upon condition that you should come down here to visit me and at
  the same time strengthen your constitution. I can promise you but
  little diversion, but I think that the scenery will repay the
  journey--not to speak of myself. You will also be able to study
  many “venerable vegetables” which are not usually to be found in
  England. But, I waste your time and my paper with these “bêtises”
  and I know well upon what subject your mind is at present
  dwelling--which of us indeed is not thinking of Ireland. I would
  give much to hear your views upon the subject. For my part it
  seems to me that there can be but one true view, and it surprises
  me mightily to hear so much discussion upon the subject. Are we
  not truly a peculiar nation who pass bills of Home Rule etc.,
  with much discussion and debate, when neither of the two parties
  concerned will accept the conditions that we offer them? The one
  considering they give too little freedom, and the other too much.
  Accursed be the man who invented a bill which was and will be the
  cause of so much trouble “in sæcula sæculorum.” Surely we need
  not have any doubt as to what line of action we should adopt,
  surely it has not been the habit of England to let her subjects
  revolt without an attempt to quell them, surely the government
  will not stand by and see its servants murdered, and the one
  loyal province oppressed. But alas many things are possible with
  such a government. Here it is said by people who have been driven
  from that country by incendiaries that the Government will let
  things take their course till everything is in such a condition
  that the Premier will rise in the house and say “You see how
  things stand--it is no use trying to control Ireland, let us
  leave it to the Seinn Feiners, and live happily ever afterwards,
  free from such unprofitable cares.”

  Such is the talk, but I believe it not. We have as a nation
  always muddled things but we have muddled through triumphant
  in the end. It is so obvious that our interests and those of
  Ireland co-incide, that even to contemplate separation is to me
  incredible.

  Thus I remain your harassed friend, etc.

(N. S. 15-10/12. VI.)

_Gather up in blank verse the impressions you have received from
your reading of Tennyson’s poems._

ON READING TENNYSON’S POEMS.

      Oh! Prophet of an era yet to come,
      When men shall sing where men were wont to speak
      In words which even Englishmen knew not.
      And when I read thy songs, at once I felt
      The breath of Nature that was lurking there.
      And then I knew that all thy life thou dwelt
      Amid the changing scenes of Nature’s play,
      And knew the very language of the birds,
      And drank the essence of the honeysuckle.
      And when thou wast but young, I knew thy thoughts,
      Thy Doubts and struggles, for thou gave them me;
      And yet, had I been thee, my thoughts would still
      Have rested deep within my heart; but still
      T’would be relief to pour out all my woes
      In the sweet flow of sympathetic verse.
      Thy epithets produce a vivid scene
      Of knights in armour or of maiden fair,
      And yet, methinks, the fairness of her face
      Doth sometimes cover many a fault below.
      But to thy genius and thy work for ever
      Be owed a debt of thankfulness that we
      No longer tread the paths of level Pope
      Or read those words that are not English-born.

(K. B. 16. V.)

THE CLOUDS

      Among the spirits of the nearer air
      There are three children of the sun and sea--
      The Genii of the clouds; it is their care
      To give the ocean’s bounty to the earth:
      Oft they retain it in a time of dearth,
      But they give all, however much it be.

      The youngest of the three is very fair;
      She is a maiden beautiful and sweet,
      Of ever varying mood, changeful as air.
      Now, plunged in merriment, she takes delight
      In all she sees, now tears obscure her sight;
      A breeze-swept lake shows not a change more fleet.

      The fleecy clouds of April own her sway--
      They, golden, lie against the golden sun,
      Or sport across the blue when she is gay;
      But when, anon, her girlish passions rise,
      She marshalls them across the sunny skies
      To flood the earth, then stops ere half begun.

      Her elder brother is of different mien,
      The clouds he governs are of different mould;
      When the earth pants for moisture he is seen
      To spread his clouds across the filmy blue.
      When his rain falls, it steady is and true;
      Persistent, gentle, ceaseless, yet not cold.

      From the grey bowl with which he caps the earth,
      It sweetly falls with earth-renewing force.
      Not April’s rapid change from grief to mirth
      Excites its fall, but calm, determined thought
      Of middle age, of deeds from judgment wrought;
      He recks not blame, but still pursues his course.

      Aged, yet of awesome beauty is the third,
      Of flashing eye and sullen, scornful brow--
      With an imperious hand she guides her herd
      Of wild, tempestuous mood; quick roused to ire
      Is she, slow to forgive, of vengeance dire;
      Before her awful glance the tree-tops bow.

      And when enraged, she stretches forth a hand--
      A long, thin hand--to North, South, East and West,
      And draws from thence clouds num’rous as the sand;
      They crowd on the horizon, and blot out
      The sun’s fair light; then, like a giant’s shout,
      The thunder booms at her dread spear’s behest.

(A. P. V.)

_Sketch a scene between a “Mr. Woodhouse” of to-day and a neighbour
of his._

  SCENE:--Mr. Woodhouse’s private study.

  _Persons present_:--Owner of study, and Miss Syms, a very modern
  young lady.

  _Mr. Woodhouse._--“Oh, good afternoon Miss Syms, I am charmed to
  see you. Dear, dear, how dark it is. One might almost think it
  were evening, if the clock opposite did not directly oppose the
  fact.”

  _Miss S._--“Oh, I don’t know, it’s not so bad out. I’m awfully
  sorry to blow in like this, but I came to enquire after Miss
  Woodhouse’s cold. Is she better?”

  _Mr. W._--“How very thoughtful of you! No, I am afraid dear
  Emma is very indisposed. It is so trying having an invalid in
  the house, it makes me quite miserable when I think of my poor
  daughter having to stay all alone, in bed. But really, that is
  almost the best place in this dreadful weather. Do you really
  mean to say that you have been taking a walk.”

  _Miss S._--“Yes, why on earth shouldn’t I? It’s about the only
  way to get really warm.”

  _Mr. W._--“If the liberty might be allowed me, (dryly) I should
  say, that it was the one way in which to get a feverish cold,
  besides making oneself thoroughly miserable; and the ground is so
  damp under foot!”

  _Miss S._--“Oh, it hasn’t been raining much lately. I only got
  caught in a little shower, (visible start from Mr. W.). (coyly,)
  Excuse me, but is that a box of cigarettes up there on the
  mantlepiece?”

  _Mr. W._--“Cigarettes? Oh, no! I couldn’t think of keeping them
  near the house. I _never_ smoke. It irritates my throat, which is
  naturally weak.”

  _Miss S._--“But don’t your visiters ever take the liberty
  of enjoying something of the sort? Besides, what about Miss
  Woodhouse?”

  _Mr. W._--(horrified,) “Dear Emma smoke a cigarette!! Why, I
  never heard of such a thing. What would she say if I told her.
  Dear Emma smoke, no, no, certainly not.”

  _Miss S._--(Laughing,) “Oh, I am sure I’m very sorry. I didn’t
  mean to offend.

  How do you think the old Johnnies in Ireland are behaving
  themselves?”

  _Mr. W._--(coldly,) “I _beg_ your pardon.”

  _Miss S._--(sweetly,) “I said, how do you think matters are
  looking, in Ireland.”

  _Mr. W._--“I am sorry, I think I could not have heard aright
  before.--Matters in Ireland, yes, oh I think the Irish rebels are
  positively awful. To think of breaking into houses, and turning
  the poor inhabitants out into the cold streets, (where they
  probably nearly die of cold), it is too dreadful!”

  _Miss S._--“Oh, I s’pose they are rather brutes sometimes. But
  in a way I almost sympathise with them. I wouldn’t like to have
  to knuckle under to the English (catching sight of Mr. W.’s
  expression of horror and pained surprise,) I really think I’d
  better get a move on. Please don’t look at me like that! I really
  don’t mean half I say. Cheerio!!”

  _Mr. W._--“Good afternoon Miss Syms, it was so kind of you to
  come. (aside) Oh, how unfeeling of dear Emma to have a cold, if
  it means visiters like this every hour. (aloud,) Good afternoon,
  can you find your way out. I really shall catch cold if I move
  out of this room!!”

(E. G. 17. V.)

_Write some lines on “Spring” in the metre of “Allegro.”_

SPRING

        Begone! for a short space
      Ye whistling winds, and fogs, and snowy clouds,
        And frosts that with fair lace
      Each window-pane in dainty pattern shrouds,
        Offsprings of Winter, ye!
      Begone! find out some icy arctic land.
        Upon that cheerless strand
      ’Mongst piercing ice, and chilling glaciers dwell
        Such regions suit ye well,
      Go, cold Winter, well are we rid of thee!
        Come Spring, thou fairest season come!
        With the bee’s enchanting hum,
        And the dainty blossoms swinging
        On the tree, while birds are singing,
        See how they clothe the branches gray
        In dress of freshest pink, all day,
        Then when the dewy evening falls
        They close their flowers till Morning calls.
        Sweet Morn! Spring leads thee by the hand
        And bids thee shine o’er all the land;
        Thou send’st forth beams of purest gold,
        To bid the daffodils unfold,
        While Spring bends down with her fresh lips
        To kiss the daisie’s petal tips.
        And as she walks o’er the green sward
        A cheerful mavis, perfect bard
        Breaks into song; his thrilling notes
        Are echoed from a hundred throats
        Of eager birds, who love to sing
        To their sweet mistress, fairest Spring.
        Then as she sits on mossy throne
        A scarlet lady-bird, alone,
        Bids her good welcome; and above
        Is heard the cooing of the dove.
        Two butterflies in russet clad
        Fly round her head with flutt’rings glad;
        While at her side a giddy fly
        Buzzes his joy that she is nigh,
        Oh! Spring my heart’s desire shall be
        That thou wilt ever dwell with me!

II

THE KNOWLEDGE OF MAN

(_e_) LANGUAGES

_English_ is rather a logical study dealing with sentences and
the positions that words occupy in them than with words and what
they are in their own right. Therefore it is better that a child
should begin with a sentence and not with the parts of speech, that
is, he should learn a little of what is called analysis before he
learns to parse. It requires some effort of abstraction for a child
to perceive that when we speak, we speak about something and say
something about it; and he has learned nearly all the grammar that
is necessary when he knows that when we speak we use sentences
and that a sentence makes sense; that we can put words together
so as to make utter nonsense, as,--“Tom immediately candlestick
uproarious nevertheless”--a string of words making perfect nonsense
and therefore not a sentence. If we use words in such a way as to
make sense we get a sentence; “John goes to school” is a sentence.
Every sentence has two parts, (1), the thing we speak of, and (2),
what we say about it. We speak of John, we say about him that he
goes to school. At this stage the children require many exercises
in finding out the first and second parts of simple sentences.
When they are quite familiar with the fact that the first part of
a sentence is what we speak about, they may get a name for it,
subject, which will be made simpler to them if they know the word
subject means that which we talk about. For instance, we may say,
the subject of conversation was parsley, which is another way of
saying the thing we were speaking about was parsley. To sum up such
a lesson, the class should learn,--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.

Children will probably be slow to receive this first lesson in
abstract knowledge, and we must remember that knowledge in this
sort is difficult and uncongenial. Their minds deal with the
concrete and they have the singular faculty of being able to make
concrete images out of the merest gossamer of a fairy tale. A seven
year old child sings,--

      “I cannot see fairies,
      I dream them.
      There is no fairy that can hide from me;
      I keep on dreaming till I find him.
      There you are, Primrose! I see you, Blackwing!”

But a child cannot dream parts of speech, and any grown-up twaddle
attempting to personify such abstractions offends a small person
who with all his love of play and nonsense has a serious mind. Most
children can be got to take in the notion of a sentence as, words
making sense, especially if they are allowed a few excursions into
non-sense, the gibberish of strings of words which do not make
sense. Again, by dint of many interesting exercises in which they
never lose sight of the _subject_, they get hold of that idea also.

One more initial idea is necessary if children are not to wander
blindfold through the mazes of grammar ‘as she is’ not ‘spoke,’
but writ in books. They must be familiar with verbs and perhaps
the simplest way to approach this idea is to cause them to make
sentences with two words, the thing they speak of and what they say
about it,--Mary sings, Auntie knits, Henry runs. In each of these
examples, the child will see the thing we speak of and what we say
about it.

But these are matters familiar to all teachers and we have nothing
new in the teaching of grammar to suggest; but we probably gain in
the fact that our scholars pay full attention to grammar, as to all
other lessons. We look forward hopefully to the result of efforts
so to unify grammar that it will no longer perplex the student, as
English, Latin, French grammar, each with its own nomenclature.

Children in Form IIB have easy French Lessons with pictures which
they describe, but in IIA while still engaged on the _Primary
French Course_ children begin to use the method which is as full of
promise in the teaching of languages as in English, that is, they
are expected to narrate the sentence or paragraph which has been
read to them. Young children find little difficulty in using French
vocables, but at this stage the teacher should with the children’s
help translate the little passage which is to be narrated, then
re-read it in French and require the children to narrate it. This
they do after a time surprisingly well, and the act of narrating
gives them some command of French phrases as far as they go, much
more so than if they learnt the little passage off by heart. They
learn French songs in both divisions and act _French Fables_ (by
Violet Partington) in Form IIA. This method of closely attentive
reading of the text followed by narration is continued in each
of the Forms. Thus Form II is required to “Describe in French,
picture 20.” “Narrate the story _Esope et le Voyageur_.” Part of
the term’s work in Form III is to “Read and narrate _Nouveaux
Contes Français_, by Marc Ceppi.” Form IV is required amongst other
things to “Read and narrate Molière’s _Les Femmes Savantes_.”
Forms V and VI are required to “Write a résumé of _Le Misanthrope_
or _L’Avare_,” “Translate into French, _Modern Verse_, page 50,
‘Leisure.’”

We have not space to follow in detail the work of the P.U.S. in
French, which of course includes the usual attention to French
Grammar but it may interest the reader to see the sort of thing
that students of the House of Education are able to accomplish in
the way of narration. The French mistress gives, let us suppose, a
lecture in history or literature lasting, say, for half an hour. At
the end the students will narrate the substance of the lecture with
few omissions and few errors. Here is an example of the sort of
thing Mr. Household heard, on the occasion of a short visit to the
House of Education, Ambleside,--

  “A French lesson was given to the second-year students by the
  French mistress, a native of Tournai, who came to Ambleside in
  1915. She had been teaching in England for some years, but had
  not previously come into contact with Miss Mason’s methods.
  Those methods were exactly followed during the lesson. There
  was the book of recognised literary merit, the single reading,
  and the immediate narration--of course in French. The book was
  Alphonse Daudet’s _Lettres de Mon Moulin_, and the story read
  was ‘La Chèvre de M. Seguin.’ Before the reading began, a few--a
  very few--words of explanation were given--of course, in French.
  Then nine pages of the story were read straight through by the
  mistress, without pause or interruption of any kind, at the same
  pace that one would read an English story. The students followed
  by ear only: they had no books. As soon as the reading ended,
  on the instant, without hesitation of any kind, narration began
  in French, different members of the class taking up the story
  in turn till it was finished. All were good; some astonishingly
  good. To all French was a tongue in which they could think and
  speak with considerable facility. Yet the time given to French
  is two hours and three-quarters a week only. Such results compel
  attention. It may be added that last year the writer heard a
  history lecture on the reign of Louis XI given in French by
  the same mistress to the then senior students, and the content
  of the lecture was narrated in a similar manner, with the same
  astonishing success.”

This hitherto unused power of concentrated attention in the study
of languages whether ancient or modern appears to hold promise of
making us at last a nation of linguists. We have attained very good
results in Italian and German by this same method, both in the
House of Education and the Practising School belonging to it, and
we are in a fair way to produce noticeable results in Latin. The
Classical mistress writes,--

  “Latin is taught at the House of Education by means of narration
  after each section has been thoroughly studied in grammar, syntax
  and style. The literature studied increases in difficulty as
  the pupil advances in grammar, etc. Nothing but good Latin is
  ever narrated, so the pupil acquires style as well as structure.
  The substance of the passage is usually reproduced with the
  phraseology and style of the original and both students and
  children learn what is really Latin and realise that it is a
  language and not a mere grammar.”

Here we get Grammar, that is, construction, learned as we learn it
in English, at the lips of those who know, and the extraordinary
readiness in acquiring new words shewn by the scholars promises
English folk the copious vocabulary in one or another foreign
language, the lack of which is a national distress.

II

THE KNOWLEDGE OF MAN

(_f_) ART

There are few subjects regarded with more respect and less
confidence in our schools than this of ‘Art.’ Of course, we say,
children should have their artistic powers cultivated, especially
those who have such powers, but _how_ is the question. The neat
solution offered by South Kensington in the sixties,--freehand
drawing, perspective, drawing from the round, has long been
rejected; but nothing definite has taken its place and we still
see models of cones, cubes and so on, disposed so that the eye may
take them in freely and that the hand may perhaps produce what the
eye has seen. But we begin now to understand that art is not to be
approached by such a macadamised road. It is of the spirit, and
in ways of the spirit must we make our attempt. We recognise that
the power of appreciating art and of producing to some extent an
interpretation of what one sees is as universal as intelligence,
imagination, nay, speech, the power of producing words. But there
must be knowledge and, in the first place, not the technical
knowledge of how to produce, but some reverent knowledge of what
has been produced; that is, children should learn pictures, line
by line, group by group, by reading, not books, but pictures
themselves. A friendly picture-dealer supplies us with half a dozen
beautiful little reproductions of the work of some single artist,
term by term. After a short story of the artist’s life and a few
sympathetic words about his trees or his skies, his river-paths or
his figures, the little pictures are studied one at a time; that
is, children learn, not merely to see a picture but _to look at
it_, taking in every detail. Then the picture is turned over and
the children tell what they have seen,--a dog driving a flock of
sheep along a road but nobody with the dog. Ah, there is a boy
lying down by the stream drinking. It is morning as you can see
by the light so the sheep are being driven to pasture, and so on;
nothing is left out, the discarded plough, the crooked birch, the
clouds beautiful in form and threatening rain, there is enough for
half an hour’s talk and memory in this little reproduction of a
great picture and the children will know it wherever they see it,
whether a signed proof, a copy in oils, or the original itself in
one of our galleries. We hear of a small boy with his parents in
the National Gallery; the boy, who had wandered off on his own
account, came running back with the news,--“Oh, Mummy, there’s
one of our Constables on that wall.” In this way children become
acquainted with a hundred, or hundreds, of great artists during
their school-life and it is an intimacy which never forsakes them.
A group of children are going up to London for a treat. “Where
would you like to go?” “Oh, Mummy, to the National Gallery to see
the Rembrandts.” Young people go to tea in a room strange to them
and are delighted to recognise two or three reproductions of De
Hooch’s pictures. In the course of school-life children get an Open
Sesame to many art galleries, and to many a cultivated home; and
life itself is illustrated for them at many points. For it is true
as Browning told us,--

      “For, don’t you mark, we’re made so that we love
      First when we see them painted, things we have passed
      Perhaps a hundred times nor cared to see.”

Here is an example of how beautiful and familiar things give quite
new delight when they are pictured. A lady writes,--

  “I was invited to a small village to talk about the P.U. School.
  Twelve really interested women came in spite of heavy rain.... I
  suggested introducing them to some of the friends their children
  had made and we had a delightful picture talk with Jean B.
  Corot, delightful to me because of the way one woman especially
  narrated. She did it as if she had been set free for the first
  time for months. It was the ‘Evening’ picture with a canal on the
  right and that splendid mass of quiet trees in the centre. The
  others gave bits of the picture but she gave the whole thing. It
  was a green pasture to her.”

The noteworthy thing is that these women were familiar with all
such details as Corot offers in their own beautiful neighbourhood,
but Browning is right; we learn to see things when we see them
painted.

It will be noticed that the work[35] done on these pictures is
done by the children themselves. There is no talk about schools of
painting, little about style; consideration of these matters comes
in later life, but the first and most important thing is to know
the pictures themselves. As in a worthy book we leave the author
to tell his own tale, so do we trust a picture to tell its tale
through the medium the artist gave it. In the region of art as
elsewhere we shut out the middleman.

Forms V and VI are asked to,--“Describe, with study in sepia,
Corot’s ‘Evening.’” Beyond this of a rough study from memory of
a given picture or of any section of it, these picture studies
do not afford much material for actual drawing; they are never
copied lest an attempt to copy should lessen a child’s reverence
for great work. We are shy in speaking of what we do in actual
drawing since Herr Cizek came among us and shewed what great
things children could do with scarcely any obvious teaching and
but little suggestion. But probably such work is only to be done
under the inspiration of an artist of unusual powers and I am
writing for teachers who depend upon their children rather than
upon themselves. They illustrate favourite scenes and passages
in the books read during the term and the spirit with which the
illustrations are drawn and the fitting details introduced make
the teacher aware of how much more the children have seen in the
passage than he has himself. Their courage in grappling with
points of technique is very instructive. They tackle a crowd with
wonderful ingenuity, a crowd listening to Mark Antony’s oration,
cheering the Prince of Wales in India, in fact wherever a crowd is
wanted it is suggested pretty much as an artist would give it by
a show of heads. Like those Viennese children they use all their
paper, whether for a landscape or the details in a room. They
give you horses leaping brooks, dogs running after cats, sheep
on the road, always with a sense of motion. It is evident that
children study the figures they see with due attention and will
give you a gardener sharpening his scythe, their mother sewing,
a man rowing, or driving, or mowing. Their chairs stand on four
legs and their figures on two feet in a surprising way, and they
are always on the watch to correct their errors by what they see.
They have a delightful and courageous sense of colour, and any
child will convince you that he has it in him to be an artist.
Their field studies give them great scope. The first buttercup in
a child’s nature note book is shockingly crude, the sort of thing
to scandalise a teacher of brush-drawing, but by and by another
buttercup will appear with the delicate poise, uplift and radiance
of the growing flower.

Drawing is generally so well taught now that we need do no more
than emphasize one or two special points in our work, such as the
definite study of pictures and the illustrations of Nature Note
Books.

We do what is possible to introduce children to Architecture; and
we practise clay-modelling and the various artistic handicrafts,
but there is nothing unusual in our work in these directions.[36]

With Musical Appreciation the case is different; and we cannot do
better than quote from an address made by Mrs. Howard Glover at the
Ambleside Conference of the Parents’ Union, 1922:--

  “Musical Appreciation--which is so much before the eye at the
  present moment--originated in the P.N.E.U. about twenty-five
  years ago. At that time I was playing to my little child much of
  the best music in which I was interested, and Miss Mason happened
  to hear of what I was doing. She realised that music might give
  great joy and interest to the life of all, and she felt that just
  as children in the P.U.S. were given the greatest literature
  and art, so they should have the greatest music as well. She
  asked me to write an article in the _Review_ on the result of my
  observations, and to make a programme of music each term which
  might be played _to_ the children. From that day to this, at the
  beginning of every term a programme has appeared; thus began a
  movement which was to spread far and wide.

  “Musical Appreciation, of course, has nothing to do with playing
  the piano. It used to be thought that ‘learning music’ must mean
  this, and it was supposed that children who had no talent for
  playing were unmusical and would not like concerts. But Musical
  Appreciation had no more to do with playing an instrument than
  acting had to do with an appreciation of Shakespeare, or painting
  with enjoyment of pictures. I think that all children should take
  Musical Appreciation and not only the musical ones, for it has
  been proved that only three per cent. of children are what is
  called ‘tone-deaf’; and if they are taken at an early age it is
  astonishing how children who appear to be without ear, develop it
  and are able to enjoy listening to music with understanding.”

SECTION III

THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE UNIVERSE

(_a_) SCIENCE[37]

Huxley’s axiom that science teaching in the schools should be
of the nature of ‘common information’ is of use in defining our
limitations in regard to the teaching of science. We find another
limitation in the fact that children’s minds are not in need of the
mental gymnastics that such teaching is supposed to afford. They
are entirely alert and eager to know. Books dealing with science
as with history, say, should be of a literary character, and we
should probably be more scientific as a people if we scrapped all
the text-books which swell publishers’ lists and nearly all the
chalk expended so freely on our blackboards. The French mind has
appreciated the fact that the approach to science as to other
subjects should be more or less literary, that the principles which
underlie science are at the same time so simple, so profound and
so far-reaching that the due setting forth of these provokes what
is almost an emotional response; these principles are therefore
meet subjects for literary treatment, while the details of their
application are so technical and so minute as,--except by way of
illustration,--to be unnecessary for school work or for general
knowledge. We have not a copious scientific literature in English
but we have quite enough to go on with in our schools. We find an
American publication called _The Sciences_ (whose author would seem
to be an able man of literary power) of very great value in linking
universal principles with common incidents of every day life in
such a way that interest never palls and any child may learn on
what principles an electric bell works, what sound means, how a
steam engine works, and many other matters, explained here with
great lucidity. Capital diagrams and descriptions make experiments
easy and children arrive at their first notions of science without
the verbiage that darkens counsel. Form IIA read _Life and Her
Children_ by Arabella Buckley and get a surprising knowledge of the
earlier and lower forms of life. IIB take pleasure in Kingsley’s
_Madam How and Lady Why_. They are expected to do a great deal
of out-of-door work in which they are assisted by _The Changing
Year_, admirable month by month studies of what is to be seen
out-of-doors. They keep records and drawings in a Nature Note Book
and make special studies of their own for the particular season
with drawings and notes.

The studies of Form III for one term enable children to--“Make
a rough sketch of a section of ditch or hedge or sea-shore and
put in the names of the plants you would expect to find.” “Write
notes with drawings of the special study you have made this term.”
“What do you understand by calyx, corolla, stamen, pistil? In
what ways are flowers fertilised?” “How would you find the Pole
Star? Mention six other stars and say in what constellations they
occur.” “How would you distinguish between Early, Decorated and
Perpendicular Gothic? Give drawings.” Questions like these, it will
be seen, cover a good deal of field work, and the study of some
half dozen carefully selected books on natural history, botany,
architecture and astronomy, the principle being that children
shall observe and chronicle, but shall not depend upon their own
unassisted observation.

The study of natural history and botany with bird lists and plant
lists continues throughout school life, while other branches of
science are taken term by term.

The questions for Form IV for one term illustrate the various
studies of the scholars in natural history, general science,
hygiene and physiology; in fact, their studies are so various that
it is difficult to give each a separate title in the programme:--

  GEOGRAPHY.

  1. Write a short sketch of Central Asia, with map.

  2. Compare Palestine with the Yorkshire moors. Describe the
  valley of the Jordan.

  3. “There is but one Nelson.” Illustrate by half-a-dozen
  instances.

  4. What is said in _Eöthen_ of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre?

  NATURAL HISTORY.

  1. What do you know of (_a_), the manatee, (_b_), the whalebone
  whale (sketch of skeleton), (_c_), porpoises and dolphins?

  _or_, 1. Describe (_a_), quartz crystals, (_b_), felspar, (_c_),
  mica, (_d_), hornblende. In what rock do these occur?

  2. What do you know of insectivorous plants? Name those you know.

  3. What circumstances strike you in a walk in summer?

  GENERAL SCIENCE.

  1. What do you understand by,--(_a_), electrical attraction,
  (_b_), repulsion, (_c_), conductors, (_d_), insulators, (_e_),
  methods of obtaining electricity?

  2. Prove that “you never see matter itself,” and show how sight
  gives us knowledge.

  PHYSIOLOGY.

  1. Describe the structure of the human ear.

Perhaps _Some Wonders of Matter_ by Bishop Mercer is the most
inspiring of the half-dozen volumes in current use in Form IV for
this section of their work. The questions indicate the varied
nature of the work and the answers shew that in every case the
knowledge is fairly wide and thorough. All the children in the
school are usually ready to answer each question on the work of the
term.

Forms V and VI again cover a wide field as the following questions
on a term’s work sufficiently indicate,--

  GEOGRAPHY.

  VI.

  1. Show how the discovery of the New World affected England in
  commerce and war.

  2. According to what general law is life distributed on the earth?

  3. Describe the Siege of Mexico by Cortes, and its surrender.

  VI. & V.

  4. How has the war affected (_a_), Luxembourg, (_b_), the Eastern
  frontier of Belgium, (_c_), Antwerp and the Scheldt?

  V.

  1. Show how the Restoration affected our American possessions.

  2. Show accurately how longitude is determined.

  3. Sketch the history and character of Montezuma.

  GEOLOGY AND GENERAL SCIENCE.

  VI.

  1. Discuss fully (_a_), the cause of radio-activity, (_b_),
  gravitation.

  2. What have you to say of the scenic aspects of the English
  Trias? Name a dozen of the fossils. Sketch half-a-dozen.

  V.

  1. Give as full an explanation as you can of colour.

  2. Describe the composition of the igneous rocks. Where do they
  appear?

  BIOLOGY, BOTANY, ETC.

  VI.

  1. What are the characters of the backboneless animals? Describe
  half-a-dozen examples.

  2. Describe and account for the vegetation of (_a_), woodlands,
  (_b_), heath, (_c_), moorland, (_d_), meadow.

  V.

  1. How would you classify the industries of animals? Give
  examples.

  2. Describe the flora of the seashore.

  VI. & V.

  3. Describe, with drawings, the special study you have made this
  term.

  ASTRONOMY.

  VI.

  1. What do you understand by precession? Describe the precession
  and mutation of the earth’s axis.

  V.

  1. Write an essay on the planet Mercury.

If we wanted an excuse for affording children a wide syllabus
introducing them at any rate to those branches of science of which
every normal person should have some knowledge, we find it in
the deprecatory words of Sir Richard Gregory in his Presidential
Address in the Education Science Section of the British
Association. He said that,--

  “Education might be defined as a deliberate adjustment of a
  growing human being to its environment, and the scope and
  character of the subjects of instruction should be determined
  by this biological principle. What was best for one race or
  epoch need not be best for another. The essential mission of
  school science was to prepare pupils for civilised citizenship
  by revealing to them something of the beauty and the power of
  the world in which they lived, as well as introducing them to
  the methods by which the boundaries of natural knowledge had
  been extended. School science, therefore, was not intended to
  prepare for vocations, but to equip pupils for life. It should
  be part of a general education, unspecialised, but in no direct
  connexion with possible university courses to follow. Less than
  three per cent. of the pupils from State-aided secondary schools
  proceeded to universities, and yet most of the science courses in
  these schools were based on syllabuses of the type of university
  entrance examinations. The needs of the many were sacrificed to
  the few.

  “Too much importance was attached to what could be covered by
  personal experiment and observation. Every science examination
  qualifying for the first school certificate, which now
  represented subjects normally studied up to about sixteen years
  of age, was mainly a test of practical acquaintance with facts
  and principles encountered in particular limited fields, but not
  a single one afforded recognition of a broad and ample course
  of instruction in science such as was a necessary complement to
  laboratory work.

  “The numbers [of examination candidates] suggested that general
  scientific teaching was almost non-existent. The range of
  instruction in the portions of subjects taken, moreover, was
  almost confined to what could be taught in a laboratory. Reading
  or teaching for interest or to learn how physical science was
  daily extending the power of man received little attention
  because no credit for knowledge thus gained was given in
  examinations. There was very special need for the reminder that
  science was not all measurement, nor all measurement science.”

It is reassuring to see methods that we have pursued for
over thirty years with admirable results recommended thus
authoritatively. The only sound method of teaching science is to
afford a due combination of field or laboratory work, with such
literary comments and amplifications as the subject affords. For
example, from _Ethics of the Dust_ children derive a certain
enthusiasm for crystals as such that their own unaided observation
would be slow to afford. As a matter of fact the teaching of
science in our schools has lost much of its educative value through
a fatal and quite unnecessary divorce between science and the
‘humanities.’

The nature note books which originated in the P.U.S. have
recommended themselves pretty widely as travelling companions and
life records wherein the ‘finds’ of every season, bird or flower,
fungus or moss, is sketched, and described _somewhat_ in the
manner of Gilbert White. The nature note book is very catholic and
finds room for the stars in their courses and for, say, the fossil
anemone found on the beach at Whitby. Certainly these note books
do a good deal to bring science within the range of common thought
and experience; we are anxious not to make science a utilitarian
subject.

GEOGRAPHY

The teaching of Geography suffers especially from the utilitarian
spirit. The whole tendency of modern Geography, as taught in
our schools, is to strip the unfortunate planet which has been
assigned to us as our abode and environment of every trace of
mystery and beauty. There is no longer anything to admire or to
wonder at in this sweet world of ours. We can no longer say with
Jasper Petulengro,--“Sun, moon and stars are sweet things, brother;
there is likewise the wind on the heath.” No, the questions
which Geography has to solve henceforth are confined to how and
under what conditions is the earth’s surface profitable to man
and desirable for his habitation. No more may children conceive
themselves climbing Mont Blanc or Mount Everest, skating on the
Fiords of Norway or swimming in a gondola at Venice. These are not
the things that matter, but only how and where and why is money
to be made under local conditions on the earth’s surface. It is
doubtful whether this kind of teaching is even lucrative because
the mind works on great ideas, and, upon these, works to great
ends. Where science does not teach a child to wonder and admire it
has perhaps no educative value.

Perhaps no knowledge is more delightful than such an intimacy
with the earth’s surface, region by region, as should enable the
map of any region to unfold a panorama of delight, disclosing not
only mountains, rivers, frontiers, the great features we know as
‘Geography,’ but associations, occupations, some parts of the past
and much of the present, of every part of this beautiful earth.
Great attention is paid to map work; that is, before reading a
lesson children have found the places mentioned in that lesson
on a map and know where they are, relatively to other places, to
given parallels, meridians. Then, bearing in mind that children
do not generalise but must learn by particulars, they read and
picture to themselves the Yorkshire Dales, the Sussex Downs, the
mysteries of a coal-mine; they see ‘pigs’ of iron flowing forth
from the furnace, the slow accretions which have made up the
chalk, the stirring life of the great towns and the occupations
of the villages. Form II (A and B) are engaged with the counties
of England, county by county, for so diverse are the counties in
aspect, history and occupations, that only so can children acquire
such a knowledge of England as will prove a key to the geography
of every part of the world, whether in the way of comparison or
contrast. For instance, while I write, the children in IIA are
studying the counties which contain the Thames basin and “Write
verses on ‘The Thames’” is part of their term’s work. _Our Sea
Power_, by H. W. Household, is of extraordinary value in linking
England with the world by means of a spirited account of the
glorious history of our navy, while the late Sir George Parkin,
than whom there is no better qualified authority, carries children
round the Empire. They are thrown on their own resources or those
of their teachers for what may be called current Geography. For
instance, “Learn what you can about _The Political Map of Europe
after the Great War_. (Evans, 4_d._).”

In Form III the Geography is still regional, that is, children are
led to form an intimate acquaintance with the countries of Europe
so that the map of any country calls up in a child’s imagination
a wonderful panorama of the diversities of the country, of the
people, their history and occupations. It is evident that this
kind of geographical image cannot be secured in any other way
than by considering Europe country by country. They begin with a
general survey of the seas and shores of the continent, of the
countries and peoples, of the diversities of tongues and their
historical origin, of the plains and mountains, of the rivers
and their basins; a survey after which they should be able to
answer such questions as,--“Name three rivers which flow into the
Baltic.” “What lands form the southern and eastern shores of the
Mediterranean?” “What countries are washed by the Baltic?” “Between
what parallels does Europe extend? What other continents lie partly
within the same parallels?” The young scholars are at home with the
map of Europe before they consider the countries separately.

The picture we present of the several countries is meant to be
before all things interesting and at the same time to provide an
intelligent and fairly exhaustive account of the given country.
Whatever further knowledge a child acquires will fit in to this
original scheme. For example, “The Rhône Valley and the Border
lands.”[38]

  “The warm and fertile Rhône valley belongs in climate to the
  southern region, where, although the vine is grown, large
  plantations of olive and mulberry occupy much of the land. We
  are apt to think of the South of France as the sunny south, the
  sweet south, ‘but,’ says a writer whom we have already quoted,
  ‘it is austere, grim, sombre’ ... but the mulberry feeds the
  silkworm and so furnishes material for the great manufacture of
  France. Lyons, the second city of France, is the seat of the silk
  manufacture including those of velvets and satins. It is seated
  upon a tongue of land at the confluence of the rapid Rhône and
  the sluggish Saône, and along the banks of both rivers are fine
  quays.”

This extract indicates how geographical facts are introduced
incidentally, pretty much as a traveller comes across them. The
work for one term includes Belgium, Holland, Spain and Portugal,
and the interests connected with each of these countries are
manifold. For example,--

  “On the seashore near Leyden is Katwyck where the expiring Rhine
  is helped to discharge itself into the sea by means of a wide
  artificial channel provided with no less than thirteen pairs of
  enormous floodgates. These are shut to keep out the sea when the
  tide is coming in, and open to let the streams pass out during
  ebb tide. Notwithstanding these great works the once glorious
  Rhine makes but an ignoble exit. The delta of this river may be
  said to include the whole breadth of Holland.”[39]

It will be noticed that an attempt is made to shew the romance
of the natural features, the history, the industries, so that a
country is no more a mere matter of names on a map, or of sections
shewn by contour lines. Such generalisations are not Geography
but are slow conclusions which the mind should come to of itself
when it acquires intimacy with a region. Something of a literary
character is preserved in the Geography lessons. The new feature in
these is the study of maps which should be very thorough. For the
rest the single reading and narration as described in connection
with other work is sufficient in this subject also. Children cannot
tell what they have not seen with the mind’s eye, which we know as
imagination, and they cannot see what is not told in their books
with some vividness and some grasp of the subject. The thoroughness
of the map study is shewn by such a question to be answered from
memory as,--“What part of Belgium does the Scheldt drain? Name any
of its feeders. Name ten famous places in its basin. What port
stands at the head of its estuary?” We find great light thrown upon
the geography of the Empire in a little book of literary quality,
_Fighting for Sea Power in the Days of Sail_.

There are two rational ways of teaching Geography. The first is
the inferential method, a good deal in vogue at the present time;
by it the pupil learns certain geographical principles which he is
expected to apply universally. This method seems to me defective
for two reasons. It is apt to be misleading as in every particular
case the general principle is open to modifications; also, local
colour and personal and historical interests are wanting and the
scholar does not form an intellectual and imaginative conception
of the region he is learning about. The second which might be
called the panoramic method unrolls the landscape of the world,
region by region, before the eyes of the scholar with in every
region its own conditions of climate, its productions, its people,
their industries and their history. This way of teaching the most
delightful of all subjects has the effect of giving to a map of a
country or region the brilliancy of colour and the wealth of detail
which a panorama might afford, together with a sense of proportion
and a knowledge of general principles. I believe that pictures are
not of very great use in this study. We all know that the pictures
which abide with us are those which the imagination constructs from
written descriptions.

The Geography for Form IV[40] includes Asia, Africa, America
and Australasia. But the same principle is followed: vivid
descriptions, geographical principles, historical associations and
industrial details, are afforded which should make, as we say, an
impression, should secure that the region traversed becomes an
imaginative possession as well as affording data for reasonable
judgments. The pupil begins with a survey of Asia followed by a
separate treatment of the great countries and divisions and of the
great physical features. Thus of Siberia we read,--

  “All travellers unite in praise of the free Siberian peasant. As
  soon as one crosses the Urals one is surprised by the extreme
  friendliness and good nature of the inhabitants as much as by the
  rich vegetation of the well-cultivated fields and the excellent
  state of the roads in the southern part of the government of
  Tobolsk.”

or,--

  “The glossy jet black soft thick fur of the sea-otter is the most
  valuable of all the Russian skins. Next ranks the skin of the
  black fox. But though a thousand of its skins are worth no more
  than one skin of the sea-otter, the little grey squirrel whose
  skins are imported by the million really plays the most important
  part in the Siberian fur trade.”

Of Further India,--

  “Pigou, the middle division, is really the vast delta of the
  Irrawaddy, a low-lying country which yields enormous quantities
  of rice while on the higher grounds which wall in the great river
  are the finest teak forests in the world.”

Africa follows Asia with the discoveries of Livingstone, Speke,
Burton, Grant, etc. We get an account of African village life and
among the chapter headings are Abyssinia, Egypt, Up the Nile, The
Soudan, The Sahara, The Barbary States, South Africa, Cape Colony,
The Islands. America follows with an account of the progress of
discovery, a geographical sketch of South America, the Andes
and the Mountain States, Chili, Peru, Bolivia, etc., the Great
Plains of South America, Central America, North America, Canada, a
historical sketch of the United States, the Eastern States, States
of the Mississippi valley, the prairies, the Western States and
territories, California. In the section on the Eastern States we
read,--

  “Stretching from this chain (the Alleghanies) is the great
  Appalachian coalfield which extends through Pennsylvania,
  Virginia and Ohio, with a length of 720 miles containing, it is
  said, coal enough to supply the world for four thousand years!
  Iron occurs with the coal in great abundance. Most of this
  coal is of the kind called Anthracite. It is extremely slow in
  burning, emits no smoke, but has a painfully drying effect upon
  the air of a room. Sir Charles Lyall speaking of Pottsville on
  this coalfield says,--‘Here I was agreeably surprised to see
  a flourishing manufacturing town with the tall chimneys of a
  hundred furnaces burning night and day, yet quite free from
  smoke. Leaving this clear atmosphere and going down into one of
  the mines it was a no less pleasing novelty to find that we could
  handle the coal without soiling our fingers.’”

But enough has been said to indicate the sort of intimacy that
scholars in Form IV get with all quarters of the world, their
geography, landscape, histories and industries, together with the
study of the causes which affect climate and industries. Geikie’s
_Physical Geography_ affords an admirable introduction to the
principles of physical geography.

Forms V and VI are expected to keep up with the newspapers and
know something about places and regions coming most into note in
the current term. Also, in connection with the history studied,
Seeley’s _Expansion of England, The Peoples and Problems of
India_, Geikie’s _Elementary Lessons in Physical Geography_,
Mort’s _Practical Geography_, and Kipling’s _Letters of Travel_
are included in the reading of one term. In these Forms the young
students are expected to apply their knowledge to Geography, both
practical and theoretical, and to make much use of a good Atlas
without the map questions which have guided the map work of the
lower Forms.

THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE UNIVERSE

(_b_) MATHEMATICS

The question of Arithmetic and of Mathematics generally is one of
great import to us as educators. So long as the idea of ‘faculties’
obtained no doubt we were right to put all possible weight on a
subject so well adapted to train the reasoning powers, but now
we are assured that these powers do not wait upon our training.
They are there in any case; and if we keep a chief place in our
curriculum for Arithmetic we must justify ourselves upon other
grounds. We take strong ground when we appeal to the beauty and
truth of Mathematics; that, as Ruskin points out, two and two make
four and cannot conceivably make five, is an inevitable law. It
is a great thing to be brought into the presence of a law, of a
whole system of laws, that exist without our concurrence,--that
two straight lines cannot enclose a space is a fact which we can
perceive, state, and act upon but cannot in any wise alter, should
give to children the sense of limitation which is wholesome for all
of us, and inspire that _sursum corda_ which we should hear in all
natural law.

Again, integrity in our dealings depends largely upon ‘Mr.
Micawber’s’ golden rule, while ‘Harold Skimpole’s’ disregard of
these things is a moral offence against society. Once again,
though we do not live on gymnastics, the mind like the body, is
invigorated by regular spells of hard exercise.

But education should be a science of proportion, and any one
subject that assumes undue importance does so at the expense of
other subjects which a child’s mind should deal with. Arithmetic,
Mathematics, are exceedingly easy to examine upon and so long
as education is regulated by examinations so long shall we have
teaching, directed not to awaken a sense of awe in contemplating a
self-existing science, but rather to secure exactness and ingenuity
in the treatment of problems.

What is better, it will be said, than a training in exactness and
ingenuity? But in saying so we assume that this exactness and
ingenuity brought out in Arithmetic serve us in every department
of life. Were this the case we should indeed have a royal road to
learning; but it would seem that no such road is open to us. The
habits and powers brought to bear upon any one educational subject
are exercised upon that subject simply. The familiar story of how
Sir Isaac Newton teased by his cat’s cries to be let in caused a
large hole in the door to be made for the cat and a small one for
the kitten, illustrates not a mere amusing lapse in a great mind
but the fact that work upon special lines qualifies for work upon
those lines only. One hears of more or less deficient boys to whom
the study of _Bradshaw_ is a delight, of an admirable accountant
who was otherwise a little ‘deficient.’

The boy who gets ‘full marks’ in Arithmetic makes a poor show in
history because the accuracy and ingenuity brought out by his sums
apply to his sums only: and as for the value of Arithmetic in
practical life, most of us have private reasons for agreeing with
the eminent staff officer who tells us that,--

  “I have never found any Mathematics except simple addition of
  the slightest use in a work-a-day life except in the Staff
  College examinations and as for mental gymnastics and accuracy
  of statement, I dispute the contention that Mathematics supply
  either any better than any other study.”

We have most of us believed that a knowledge of the theory and
practice of war depended a good deal upon Mathematics, so this
statement by a distinguished soldier is worth considering. In a
word our point is that Mathematics are to be studied for their own
sake and not as they make for general intelligence and grasp of
mind. But then how profoundly worthy are these subjects of study
for their own sake, to say nothing of other great branches of
knowledge to which they are ancillary! Lack of proportion should be
our _bête noire_ in drawing up a curriculum, remembering that the
mathematician who knows little of the history of his own country or
that of any other, is sparsely educated at the best.

At the same time Genius has her own rights. The born mathematician
must be allowed full scope even to the omission of much else that
he should know. He soon asserts himself, sees into the intricacies
of a problem with half an eye, and should have scope. He would
prefer not to have much teaching. But why should the tortoise keep
pace with the hare and why should a boy’s success in life depend
upon drudgery in Mathematics? That is the tendency at the present
moment--to close the Universities and consequently the Professions
to boys and girls who, because they have little natural aptitude
for mathematics, must acquire a mechanical knowledge by such heavy
all-engrossing labour as must needs shut out such knowledge of the
‘humanities’ say, as is implied in the phrase ‘a liberal education.’

The claims of the London Matriculation examination, for example,
are acknowledged by many teachers to be incompatible with the wide
knowledge proper to an educated person.

Mathematics depend upon the teacher rather than upon the text-book
and few subjects are worse taught; chiefly because teachers have
seldom time to give the inspiring ideas, what Coleridge calls, the
‘Captain’ ideas, which should quicken imagination.

How living would Geometry become in the light of the discoveries of
Euclid as he made them!

To sum up, Mathematics are a necessary part of every man’s
education; they must be taught by those who know; but they may not
engross the time and attention of the scholar in such wise as to
shut out any of the score of ‘subjects,’ a knowledge of which is
his natural right.

It is unnecessary to exhibit mathematical work done in the P.U.S.
as it is on the same lines and reaches the same standard as in
other schools. No doubt his habit of entire attention favours the
P.U.S. scholar.

THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE UNIVERSE

(_c_) PHYSICAL DEVELOPMENT, HANDICRAFTS

It is unnecessary, too, to say anything about games, dancing,
physical exercises, needlework and other handicrafts as the methods
employed in these are not exceptional.[41]

Book II

Theory Applied

CHAPTER I

A LIBERAL EDUCATION IN ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS

I need not waste time in attempting to convince the reader of what
we all know, that a liberal education is, like justice, religion,
liberty, fresh air, the natural birthright of every child. Neither
need we discuss the scope of such an education. We are aware that
good life implies cultivated intelligence, that, according to the
Platonic axiom, ‘Knowledge is virtue,’ even though there be many
exceptions to the rule. Educated teachers are not slow to perceive
the part the Humanities play in a worthy scheme of education, but
they are faced by enormous difficulties which are admirably summed
up in a recent work,--[42]

  “The tragedy of modern education has been the prolonged failure
  of Humanism to secure conditions under which its purpose might be
  realised for the people at large.”

It is because we (of the Parents’ Union School) have succeeded in
offering Humanism under such conditions that we believe the great
problem of education is at last solved. We are able to offer the
Humanities (in the mother tongue) to large classes of children from
illiterate homes in such a way that the teaching is received with
delight and freely assimilated. One swallow does not make a summer,
we all know, but the experience of one school shows that it is
possible to carry out a pretty full literary programme joyously and
without effort while including all the usual school activities.
Wireless telegraphy was, so to speak, in the air before the first
Marconi message was sent, but that first wireless message made
it possible for any passenger on board a Channel steamer to send
such a message. Just so, the experiment in the Drighlington School
(Yorkshire) placed the conditions for a humanistic education at the
service of any teacher. I am much impressed by the amount of work
of this kind which is already being done in our schools. I heard
the other day of a man whose whole life had been elevated by a
single inspiring (poetic) sentence which he heard as a schoolboy;
we have been told that the ‘man in the street’ cannot resist a row
of books; we are told, too, that the War has made us a nation of
readers, both at home and in the trenches, readers largely of the
best books in poetry and history; is there no credit due to the
schools for these things? But teachers are not satisfied; their
reach is greater than their grasp and they are more aware of the
sordid lives about them, of the “dull, unfeeling, barren ignorance”
which prevails, than of any success they have yet attained.
Therefore they fret under the time limitations which seem to make
it impossible to do anything worth while in such vast subjects as
History and Literature, for example.

I wonder does this uneasiness point to a fact which we are slow
to realise,--that the requirements of the mind are very much like
those of the body? Both require as conditions of health,--activity,
variety, rest and, above all, food. There has been some tendency
among us to offer gymnastics, whether intellectual or physical,
by way of a square meal of knowledge, which is as if one were
to invite a boy to Swedish Drill by way of his dinner; and that
wretched misnomer ‘education’ is partly to blame. Now, potency,
not property, is the characteristic of mind. A child is able to
deal with much knowledge, but he possesses none worth speaking
of; yet we set to work to give him that potency which he already
possesses rather than the knowledge which he lacks; we train
his reason, cultivate his judgment, exercise this and the other
faculty, which we have no more to do with than with the digestive
processes of a healthy child; we know that the more we meddle with
these the worse for the child; but what if the devitalisation
we notice in so many of our young people, keen about games but
dead to things of the mind, is due to the processes carried on
in our schools, to our plausible and pleasant ways of picturing,
eliciting, demonstrating, illustrating, summarising, doing all
those things for children which they are born with the potency to
do for themselves? No doubt we do give intellectual food, but too
little of it; let us have courage and we shall be surprised, as we
are now and then, at the amount of intellectual strong meat almost
any child will take at a meal and digest at his leisure.

Perhaps the first thing for us to do is to get a just perception
of what I may call the relativity of knowledge and the mind. The
mind receives knowledge, not in order that it may know, but in
order that it may grow, in breadth and depth, in sound judgment and
magnanimity; but in order to grow, it _must know_.

The fact is that we are handicapped, not so much by the three or
four difficulties I have already indicated, as by certain errors of
judgment, forms of depreciation, which none of us escape because
they are universal. We as teachers depreciate ourselves and our
office; we do not realise that in the nature of things the teacher
has a prophetic power of appeal and inspiration, that his part
is not the weariful task of spoon-feeding with pap-meat, but the
delightful commerce of equal minds where his is the part of guide,
philosopher and friend. The friction of wills which makes school
work harassing ceases to a surprising degree when we deal with the
children, mind to mind, through the medium of knowledge.

Next, we depreciate children, even though most teachers lay down
their lives for their charges with amazing devotion. We have been
so long taught to regard children as products of education and
environment, that we fail to realise that from the first they are
persons; and, as Carlyle has well said,--

  “The mystery of a person, indeed, is ever divine, to him that has
  a sense for the godlike.”

We must either reverence or despise children; and while we regard
them as incomplete and undeveloped beings who will one day arrive
at the completeness of man, rather than as weak and ignorant
persons, whose ignorance we must inform and whose weakness we must
support, but whose potentialities are as great as our own, we
cannot do otherwise than despise children, however kindly and even
tenderly we commit the offence.

As soon as he gets words with which to communicate with us, a
child lets us know that he thinks with surprising clearness and
directness, that he sees with a closeness of observation that
we have long lost, that he enjoys and that he sorrows with an
intensity we have ceased to experience, that he loves with an
abandon and a confidence which, alas, we do not share, that he
imagines with a fecundity no artist among us can approach that he
acquires intellectual knowledge and mechanical skill at a rate so
amazing, that, could the infant’s rate of progress be kept up to
manhood, he would surely appropriate the whole field of knowledge
in a single lifetime! (It is worth while in this connection to
re-read the early chapters of _David Copperfield_.)

I am considering a child as he is, and am not tracing him, either
with Wordsworth, to the heights above, or, with the evolutionist,
to the depths below; because a person is a mystery, that is,
we cannot explain him or account for him, but must accept him
as he is. This wonder of personality does not cease, does not
disappear, when a child goes to school; he is still ‘all there’
in quite another sense from that of the vulgar catch-word. But we
begin to lose the way to his mind from the day that he enters the
schoolroom; the reason for this is, we have embraced the belief
that ‘knowledge is sensation,’ that a child knows what he sees and
handles rather than what he conceives in his mind and figures in
his thoughts. I labour this point because our faith in a child’s
spiritual, _i.e._, intellectual educability is one of our chief
assets. Having brought ourselves face to face with the wonder of
mind in children, we begin to see that knowledge is the aliment
of the mind as food is that of the body. In the days before the
War, a lifetime ago it seems, our insular contempt for knowledge
was a by-word; except for a schoolmaster or other thinker here and
there, nobody took knowledge seriously; we announced boldly that
it did not matter what a child learned but only how he learned
it. As for mere ‘book-learning,’ for that we had a fine contempt!
But we have changed all that. We are beginning to suspect that
ignorance is our national stumbling-block, a chief cause of those
difficulties at home which hinder our efforts abroad. For ignorance
there is only one cure, and that is, knowledge; his school is the
seat of knowledge for a child, and whatever else his teachers do
for him, first of all they must sustain him with knowledge, not in
homœopathic doses, but in regular, generous servings. If we ask,
what is knowledge?--there is no neat and ready answer at hand.
Matthew Arnold, we know, classifies all knowledge under three
heads,--the knowledge of God, divinity, the knowledge of man,
known as the ‘humanities’ and the knowledge of the physical world,
science, and that is enough to go on with. But I should like to
question this division and to class all three parts of knowledge
under the head of Humanism, which should include all knowledge
that makes a direct appeal to the mind through the channel of
literary form; now, the substance of Divinity is contained in
one of the three great literatures of the world, and Science, in
France if not usually in England, is embodied in a beautiful and
poetic literature of great clarity, precision and grace. Is it
not then allowable to include all knowledge of which literature
is a proper medium under the head of ‘Humanism’? One thing at any
rate we know with certainty, that no teaching, no information
becomes knowledge to any of us until the individual mind has acted
upon it, translated it, transformed, absorbed it, to reappear,
like our bodily food, in forms of vitality. Therefore, teaching,
talk and tale, however lucid or fascinating, effect nothing until
self-activity be set up; that is, self-education is the only
possible education; the rest is mere veneer laid on the surface of
a child’s nature.

I have endeavoured to call your attention to a certain undervaluing
of children and undervaluing of knowledge which seem to me to mar
our twentieth century ideal of education, fine as that is. If we
realise that the mind and knowledge are like two members of a ball
and socket joint, two limbs of a pair of scissors, fitted to each
other, necessary to each other and acting only in concert, we shall
understand that our function as teachers is to supply children with
the rations of knowledge which they require; and that the rest,
character and conduct, efficiency and ability, and, that finest
quality of the citizen, magnanimity, take care of themselves. “But
how?” cries the teacher, whose life is spent in the labour of
Sisyphus. I think we have chanced on a way that, at any rate, works
to admiration, the principles and practice of which I am anxious to
bring before you.

Let me first repeat[43] a few of the results that have been made
good by thousands of children, and within the last few years by
many Council Schools throughout the country:--

The children, not the teachers, are the responsible persons; they
do the work by self-effort.

The teachers give the uplift of their sympathy in the work and
where necessary elucidate, sum up or enlarge, but the actual work
is done by the scholars.

These read in a term from one thousand to between two and three
thousand pages, according to age and class, in a large number of
set books; the quantity set for each lesson allows of only a single
reading.

The reading is tested by narration, or by writing on a test passage.

No revision is attempted when the terminal examination is at hand;
because too much ground has been covered to allow of any ‘looking
up.’

What the children have read they know, and write on any part of it
with ease and fluency, in vigorous English. They usually spell well.

During the examinations, which last a week, the children cover say
from twenty to sixty sheets of Cambridge paper, according to age
and class; but if ten times as many questions were set on the work
studied most likely they would cover ten times as much paper.

It rarely happens that all the children in a class are not able
to answer all the questions set in such subjects as history,
literature, citizenship, geography, science. But here differences
manifest themselves; some children do better in history, some in
science, some in arithmetic, others in literature; some, again,
write copious answers and a few write sparsely; but practically all
know the answers to the set questions.

In the course of an examination they deal freely with a great
number of substantives, including many proper names; I once had the
names used by a child of ten in an examination paper counted; there
were well over a hundred, of which these are the ‘A’s’--

  Africa, Alsace-Lorraine, Abdomen, Antigonons, Antennæ, Aphis,
  Antwerp, Alder, America, Amsterdam, Austria-Hungary, Ann Boleyn,
  Antarctic, Atlantic;

and these are the ‘M’s,’--

  Megalopolis, Maximilian, Milan, Martin Luther, Mary of the
  Netherlands, Messina, Macedonia, Magna Charta, Magnet, Malta,
  Metz, Mediterranean, Mary Queen of Scots, Treaty of Madrid;

and upon all these subjects the children wrote as freely and fully
as if they were writing to an absent sister about a new family of
kittens!

The children write with perfect understanding as far as they go
and there is rarely a ‘howler’ in hundreds of sets of papers.
They have an enviable power of getting at the gist of a book or
subject. Sometimes they are asked to write verses about a personage
or an event; the result is not remarkable by way of poetry, but
sums up a good deal of thoughtful reading in a delightful way; for
example,--the reading of _King Lear_ is gathered in twelve lines on
‘Cordelia,’--

CORDELIA

      Nobliest lady, doomed to slaughter,
      An unlov’d, unpitied daughter,
      Though Cordelia thou may’st be,
      “Love’s” the fittest name for thee;
      If love doth not, maid, bestow
      Scorn for scorn, and “no” for “no,”
      If love loves through scorn and spite,
      If love clings to truth and right,
      If love’s pure, maid, as thou art,
      If love has a faithful heart,
      Thou art then the same as love;
      Come from God’s own realms above!

                       M. K. C. 10-10/12 Form II.

A life of Livingstone (read in connection with the Geography of
Africa) is thus epitomised,--

LIVINGSTONE

      “The whole of Africa is desert bare,
      Except around the coast.” So people said,
      And thought of that great continent no more.
      “The smoke of thousand villages I’ve seen!”
      So cried a man. He knew no more. His words
      Sank down into one heart there to remain.
      The man who heard rose up and gave his all:
      Into the dark unknown he went alone.
      What terrors did he face? The native’s hate,
      The fever, tetse-fly and loneliness.
      But to the people there he brought great Light.
      Who was this man, the son of some great lord?
      Not so. He was a simple Scottish lad
      Who learnt to follow duty’s path. His name
      Was Livingstone, he will not be forgot.

                                E. P. (15.) Form IV.

And here is a rendering of Plutarch’s _Life of Pericles_ by a girl
of fourteen in Form IV,--

      Oh! land, whose beauty and unrivalled fame;
      Lies dead, obscure in Time’s great dusty vault.
      Not so in memory, for truly here,
      Each and alike look up and do revear
      Those heroes of the hidden past. Plato,
      Who’s understanding reached the wide world’s end;
      Aristides, that just and noble man.
      And last, not least, the great wise Pericles
      Who’s socialistic views and clever ways
      For governing the rich and poor alike
      Were to be envied. In his eyes must Greece
      Live for ever as the home of beauty.
      So to the Gods great marble shrines he made,
      Temples and theatres did he erect;
      So that the beauty of his beloved Greece
      Might live for ever. And now when seeing
      What is left of all those wondrous sights
      We think not of the works _themselves_
      But rather of the man who had them built.

                                                 J. F.

One wonders is ‘socialistic’ used for democratic; any way, the
notion is original. There is little to be said for the technique of
the verses but I think the reader will agree that each set shows
thoughtful appreciation of some part of the term’s reading. The
verses are uncorrected.

Much use is made according to this method of the years from 6 to
8, during which children must learn to read and write; they get at
the same time, however, a good deal of consecutive knowledge of
history and geography, tale and fable, some of which at the end of
the term they dictate in answer to questions and their answers form
well-expressed little essays on the subjects they deal with.

The time appropriated in the time-table at this stage to the
teaching of some half-dozen more or less literary subjects such as
Scripture, and the subjects I have indicated, is largely spent by
the teachers in reading, say, two or three paragraphs at a time
from some one of the set books, which children, here and there
in the class, narrate. The teacher reads with the intention that
the children shall know, and therefore, with distinctness, force,
and careful enunciation; it is a mere matter of sympathy, though
of course it is the author and not himself, whom the teacher is
careful to produce. This practice, of the teacher reading aloud
and the class narrating, is necessarily continued through all the
classes of an elementary school, because some of the books used
are rather costly and only one copy is furnished. I wonder does
this habit of listening with close attention to what is read aloud
tend to equalise the children of the ‘uneducated’ with those of the
educated classes? Certainly, the work of the two is surprisingly
equal. By the way, there is no selection of subjects, passages or
episodes on the ground of interest. The best available book is
chosen and read through in the course, it may be, of two or three
years.

Let me add that the appeal of these principles and this method
is not to the clever child only but to the average and even to
the ‘backward’ child; indeed we have had several marked successes
with backward children. Just as we all partake of that banquet
which is ‘Shakespeare’ according to our needs and desires, so do
the children behave at the ample board set before them; there
is enough to satisfy the keenest intelligence while the dullest
child is sustained through his own willing effort. This scheme
of fairly wide and successful intellectual work is carried out
in the same or less time than is occupied in the usual efforts
in the same directions; there are no revisions, no evening
preparations (because far more work is done by the children in
ordinary school-time than under ordinary school methods, when the
child is too often a listener only): no note-taking, because none
are necessary, the children having the matter in their books and
knowing where to find it; and as there is no cramming or working up
of subjects there is much time to spare for vocational and other
work of the kind.

Such an education as I am urging should act as a social lever also;
everyone is much occupied with problems concerning amelioration of
life for our ‘poorer classes’ but do we sufficiently consider that,
given a better education, the problems of decent living will for
the most part be solved by the people themselves?

Like all great ventures of life this that I propose is a venture
of faith, faith in the saving power of knowledge and in the
assimilative power of children. Its efficacy depends upon the fact
that it is in the nature of things, that is, in the nature of
knowledge and in the nature of children. Bring the two together in
ways that are sanctioned by the laws of mind and, to use a figure,
a chemical combination takes place and a new product appears, a
person of character and intelligence, an admirable citizen whose
own life is too full and rich for him to be an uneasy member of
society.

Education is part and parcel of religion and every enthusiastic
teacher knows that he is obeying the precept,--‘feed my
lambs’--feed with all those things which are good and wholesome for
the spirit of a man; and, before all and including all, with the
knowledge of God.

I have ventured to speak of the laws of mind, or spirit, but indeed
we can only make guesses here and there and follow with diffidence
such light as we get from the teachings of the wise and from
general experience; general experience, because peculiar experience
is apt to be misleading; therefore, when I learned that long tried
principles and methods were capable of application to the whole of
a class of forty children in the school of a mining village, I felt
assured that we were following laws whose observance results in
education of a satisfying kind.

The mind requires sustenance as does the body, that it may increase
and be strong; so much everybody knows. A long time ago it was
perceived that the pabulum given in schools was of the wrong
sort; Grammar rules, lists of names and dates and places,--the
whole stock in trade of the earlier schoolmaster--was found to
be matter which the minds of children reject: and, because we
were wise enough to see that the mind functions for its own
nourishment whether in rejecting or receiving, we changed our
tactics, following, so we thought, the lead of the children. We
did well, and therefore are prepared, if necessary, to do better.
What, then, if our whole educational equipment, our illustrations,
elucidations, questionings, our illimitable patience in getting a
point into the children, were all based on the false assumption of
the immature, which we take to connote the imperfect, incomplete
minds of children? “I think I could understand, Mummy, if you did
not explain quite so much,”--is this the inarticulate cry of the
school child to-day? He really is capable of much more than he
gets credit for, but we go the wrong way about getting his capable
mind into action.

We err when we allow our admirable teaching to intervene between
children and the knowledge their minds demand. The desire for
knowledge (curiosity) is the chief agent in education: but this
desire may be made powerless like an unused limb by encouraging
other desires to intervene, such as the desire for place
(emulation), for prizes (avarice), for power (ambition), for praise
(vanity). But I am told that marks, places and prizes (except for
attendance) do not figure largely in Elementary Schools, therefore
the love of knowledge for its own sake is likely to have a freer
course in these schools than in others.

That children are born persons,--is the first article of the
educational _credo_ which I am concerned to advance; this implies
that they come to us with power of attention, avidity for
knowledge, clearness of thought, nice discrimination in books even
before they can read, and the power of dealing with many subjects.

Practical teachers will say, guarantee to us the attention of our
scholars and we will guarantee their progress in what Colet calls
‘good literature,’ I have already explained[44] how I came to a
solution of this puzzling problem,--how to secure attention.

Let me add again that the principles and methods I have indicated
are especially suitable for large classes; what is called the
‘sympathy of numbers’ stimulates the class, and the work goes with
added impetus: each child is eager to take part in narration or
to do written work well. By the way, only short test answers are
required in writing, so that the labour of correction is minimised.

To two further points I must invite attention; the choice of books
and the character of the terminal examinations. I do not know
better how to describe the sort of books that children’s minds will
consent to deal with than by saying that they must be literary
in character. A child of seven or eight will narrate a difficult
passage from _The Pilgrim’s Progress_, say, with extraordinary
zest and insight; but I doubt if he or his elders would retain
anything from that excellent work, Dr. Smiles’s _Self-Help_! The
completeness with which hundreds of children reject the wrong book
is a curious and instructive experience, not less so than the