{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_70302/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_70302","id":"gutenberg_70302","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/70302","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Teaching & Education","Education","Educational psychology","Moral education","Nobel Prizes in Literature"],"text":"EDUCATION AND THE GOOD LIFE\n\n\n\n\n  EDUCATION\n  AND THE\n  GOOD LIFE\n\n  BERTRAND RUSSELL\n\n  [Illustration]\n\n  BONI & LIVERIGHT\n  NEW YORK      MCMXXVI\n\n\n\n\n  COPYRIGHT 1926 :: BY\n  BONI & LIVERIGHT, INC.\n  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES\n\n  [Illustration]\n\n  First printing, May, 1926\n  Second printing, May, 1926\n  Third printing, June, 1926\n  Fourth printing, July, 1926\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                                                      PAGE\n\n    INTRODUCTION                                         7\n\n\n  PART I\n\n  EDUCATION AND THE GOOD LIFE\n\n  CHAPTER\n\n        I. POSTULATES OF MODERN EDUCATIONAL THEORY      15\n\n       II. THE AIMS OF EDUCATION                        47\n\n\n  PART II\n\n  EDUCATION OF CHARACTER\n\n      III. THE FIRST YEAR                               87\n\n       IV. FEAR                                        101\n\n        V. PLAY AND FANCY                              123\n\n       VI. CONSTRUCTIVENESS                            136\n\n      VII. SELFISHNESS AND PROPERTY                    147\n\n     VIII. TRUTHFULNESS                                157\n\n       IX. PUNISHMENT                                  166\n\n        X. IMPORTANCE OF OTHER CHILDREN                178\n\n       XI. AFFECTION AND SYMPATHY                      187\n\n      XII. SEX EDUCATION                               209\n\n     XIII. THE NURSERY-SCHOOL                          224\n\n\n  PART III\n\n  INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION\n\n      XIV. GENERAL PRINCIPLES                          239\n\n       XV. THE SCHOOL CURRICULUM BEFORE FOURTEEN       261\n\n      XVI. LAST SCHOOL YEARS                           278\n\n     XVII. DAY SCHOOLS AND BOARDING SCHOOLS            292\n\n    XVIII. THE UNIVERSITY                              301\n\n      XIX. CONCLUSION                                  314\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nThere must be in the world many parents who, like the present author,\nhave young children whom they are anxious to educate as well as\npossible, but reluctant to expose to the evils of most existing\neducational institutions. The difficulties of such parents are not\nsoluble by any effort on the part of isolated individuals. It is of\ncourse possible to bring up children at home by means of governesses\nand tutors, but this plan deprives them of the companionship which\ntheir nature craves, and without which some essential elements of\neducation must be lacking. Moreover it is extremely bad for a boy or\ngirl to be made to feel \u201codd\u201d and different from other boys and girls:\nthis feeling, when traced to parents as its cause, is almost certain to\nrouse resentment against them, leading to a love of all that they most\ndislike. The conscientious parent may be driven by these considerations\nto send his boys and girls to schools in which he sees grave defects,\nmerely because no existing schools seem to him satisfactory--or, if any\nare satisfactory, they are not in his neighbourhood. Thus the cause of\neducational reform is forced upon conscientious parents, not only for\nthe good of the community, but also for the good of their own children.\nIf the parents are well-to-do, it is not necessary to the solution of\ntheir private problem that _all_ schools should be good, but only that\nthere should be some good school geographically available. But for\nwage-earning parents nothing suffices except reform in the elementary\nschools. As one parent will object to the reforms which another parent\ndesires, nothing will serve except an energetic educational propaganda,\nwhich is not likely to prove effective until long after the reformer\u2019s\nchildren are grown up. Thus from love for our own children we are\ndriven, step by step, into the wider sphere of politics and philosophy.\n\nFrom this wider sphere I desire, in the following pages, to remain\naloof as far as possible. The greater part of what I have to say will\nnot be dependent upon the views that I may happen to hold as regards\nthe major controversies of our age. But _complete_ independence in\nthis regard is impossible. The education we desire for our children\nmust depend upon our ideals of human character, and our hopes as to\nthe part they are to play in the community. A pacifist will not desire\nfor his children the education which seems good to a militarist; the\neducational outlook of a communist will not be the same as that\nof an individualist. To come to a more fundamental cleavage: there\ncan be no agreement between those who regard education as a means\nof instilling certain definite beliefs and those who think that it\nshould produce the power of independent judgment. Where such issues\nare relevant, it would be idle to shirk them. At the same time, there\nis a considerable body of new knowledge in psychology and pedagogy\nwhich is independent of these ultimate questions, and has an intimate\nbearing on education. Already it has produced very important results,\nbut a great deal remains to be done before its teachings have been\nfully assimilated. This is especially true of the first five years of\nlife; these have been found to have an importance far greater than that\nformerly attributed to them, which involves a corresponding increase\nin the educational importance of parents. My aim and purpose, wherever\npossible, will be to avoid controversial issues. Polemical writing is\nnecessary in some spheres; but in addressing parents one may assume\na sincere desire for the welfare of their offspring, and this alone,\nin conjunction with modern knowledge, suffices to decide a very large\nnumber of educational problems. What I have to say is the outcome of\nperplexities in regard to my own children; it is therefore not remote\nor theoretical, and may, I hope, help to clarify the thoughts of other\nparents faced with a like perplexity, whether in the way of agreement\nwith my conclusions or the opposite. The opinions of parents are\nimmensely important, because, for lack of expert knowledge, parents are\ntoo often a drag upon the best educationists. If parents desire a good\neducation for their children, there will, I am convinced, be no lack of\nteachers willing and able to give it.\n\nI propose, in what follows, to consider first the aims of education:\nthe kind of individuals, and the kind of community, that we may\nreasonably hope to see produced by education applied to raw material\nof the present quality. I ignore the question of the improvement\nof the breed, whether by eugenics or by any other process, natural\nor artificial, since this is essentially outside the problems\nof education. But I attach great weight to modern psychological\ndiscoveries which tend to show that character is determined by early\neducation to a much greater extent than was thought by the most\nenthusiastic educationists of former generations. I distinguish between\neducation of character and education in knowledge, which may be called\ninstruction in the strict sense. The distinction is useful, though\nnot ultimate: some virtues are required in a pupil who is to become\ninstructed, and much knowledge is required for the successful practice\nof many important virtues. For purposes of discussion, however,\ninstruction can be kept apart from education of character. I shall deal\nfirst with education of character, because it is especially important\nin early years; but I shall carry it through to adolescence, and deal,\nunder this head, with the important question of sex education. Finally,\nI shall discuss intellectual education, its aims, its curriculum, and\nits possibilities, from the first lessons in reading and writing to\nthe end of the university years. The further education which men and\nwomen derive from life and the world I shall regard as lying outside my\nscope; but to make men and women capable of learning from experience\nshould be one of the aims which early education should keep most\nprominently in view.\n\n\n\n\nPART I\n\nEDUCATION AND THE GOOD LIFE\n\n\n\n\nEDUCATION AND THE GOOD LIFE\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nPOSTULATES OF MODERN EDUCATIONAL THEORY\n\n\nIn reading even the best treatises on education written in former\ntimes, one becomes aware of certain changes that have come over\neducational theory. The two great reformers of educational theory\nbefore the nineteenth century were Locke and Rousseau. Both deserved\ntheir reputation, for both repudiated many errors which were\nwide-spread when they wrote. But neither went as far in his own\ndirection as almost all modern educationists go. Both, for example,\nbelong to the tendency which led to liberalism and democracy; yet\nboth consider only the education of an aristocratic boy, to which one\nman\u2019s whole time is devoted. However excellent might be the results\nof such a system, no man with a modern outlook would give it serious\nconsideration, because it is arithmetically impossible for every child\nto absorb the whole time of an adult tutor. The system is therefore\none which can only be employed by a privileged caste; in a just world,\nits existence would be impossible. The modern man, though he may seek\nspecial advantages for his own children in practice, does not consider\nthe theoretical problem solved except by some method of education\nwhich could be open to all, or at least to all whose capacities render\nthem capable of profiting by it. I do not mean that the well-to-do\nshould, here and now, forego educational opportunities which, in the\nexisting world, are not open to all. To do that would be to sacrifice\ncivilization to justice. What I do mean is that the educational system\nwe must aim at producing in the future is one which gives to every boy\nand girl an opportunity for the best that exists. The ideal system of\neducation must be democratic, although that ideal is not immediately\nattainable. This, I think, would, nowadays, be pretty generally\nconceded. In this sense, I shall keep democracy in view. Whatever\nI shall advocate will be capable of being universal, though the\nindividual should not meantime sacrifice his children to the badness\nof what is common, if he has the intelligence and the opportunity to\nsecure something better. Even this very attenuated form of democratic\nprinciple is absent from the treatises of Locke and Rousseau. Although\nthe latter was a disbeliever in aristocracy, he never perceived the\nimplications of his disbelief where education was concerned.\n\nThis matter of democracy and education is one as to which clarity\nis important. It would be disastrous to insist upon a dead level of\nuniformity. Some boys and girls are cleverer than others, and can\nderive more benefit from higher education. Some teachers have been\nbetter trained or have more native aptitude than others, but it is\nimpossible that everybody should be taught by the few best teachers.\nEven if the highest education were desirable for all, which I doubt,\nit is impossible that all should have it at present, and therefore a\ncrude application of democratic principles might lead to the conclusion\nthat none should have it. Such a view, if adopted, would be fatal to\nscientific progress, and would make the general level of education a\nhundred years hence needlessly low. Progress should not be sacrificed\nto a mechanical equality at the present moment; we must approach\neducational democracy carefully, so as to destroy in the process as\nlittle as possible of the valuable products that happen to have been\nassociated with social injustice.\n\nBut we cannot regard a method of education as satisfactory if it is one\nwhich could not possibly be universal. The children of rich people\noften have, in addition to their mother, a nurse, a nurserymaid,\nand a share in the other domestic servants; this involves an amount\nof attention which could never, in any social system, be given to\nall children. It is very doubtful whether carefully tended children\nreally gain by being made unnecessarily parasitic, but in any case\nno impartial person can recommend special advantages for the few,\nexcept for special reasons, such as feeble-mindedness or genius. The\nwise parent, at the present day, is likely to choose, if he can, some\nmethod of education for his children which is not in fact universal,\nand for the sake of experiment it is desirable that parents should\nhave the opportunity of trying new methods. But they ought to be such\nas could be made universal, if found to produce good results, not\nsuch as must from their very nature be confined to a privileged few.\nFortunately, some of the best elements in modern educational theory\nand practice have had an extremely democratic origin; for example,\nMadame Montessori\u2019s work began with nursery-schools in slums. In\nhigher education, exceptional opportunity for exceptional ability is\nindispensable, but otherwise there is no reason why any child should\nsuffer from the adoption of systems which might be adopted by all.\n\nThere is another modern tendency in education, which is connected\nwith democracy, but perhaps somewhat more open to question--I mean\nthe tendency to make education useful rather than ornamental. The\nconnection of the ornamental with aristocracy has been set forth\nsearchingly in Veblen\u2019s \u201cTheory of the Leisure Class\u201d, but it is\nonly the educational aspect of this connection that concerns us. In\nmale education, the matter is bound up with the controversy between\na classical and a \u201cmodern\u201d education; in the education of girls,\nit is part of the conflict between the ideal of the \u201cgentlewoman\u201d\nand the desire to train girls to be self-supporting. But the whole\neducational problem, where women are concerned, has been distorted by\nthe desire for sex equality: there has been an attempt to acquire the\nsame education as that given to boys, even where it was by no means\ngood in itself. Consequently women educators have aimed at giving to\ntheir girls such \u201cuseless\u201d knowledge as is given to boys of the same\nclass, and have been bitter opponents of the notion that some part\nof female education should be a technical training for motherhood.\nThese cross-currents make the tendency that I am considering in some\nrespects less definite where women are concerned, though the decay of\nthe ideal of the \u201cfine lady\u201d is one of the most noteworthy examples of\nthe tendency. In order to avoid confusing the issue, I shall for the\nmoment confine myself to male education.\n\nMany separate controversies, in all of which other questions arise, are\nin part dependent upon our present question. Should boys learn mainly\nclassics or mainly science? Among other considerations, one is that the\nclassics are ornamental and science is useful. Should education as soon\nas possible become technical instruction for some trade or profession?\nAgain the controversy between the useful and the ornamental is\nrelevant, though not decisive. Should children be taught to enunciate\ncorrectly and to have pleasant manners, or are these mere relics of\naristocracy? Is appreciation of art a thing of any value except in\nthe artist? Should spelling be phonetic? All these and many other\ncontroversies are argued in part in terms of the controversy between\nthe useful and the ornamental.\n\nNevertheless, I believe the whole controversy to be unreal. As soon\nas the terms are defined, it melts away. If we interpret \u201cuseful\u201d\nbroadly and \u201cornamental\u201d narrowly, the one side has it; in the contrary\ninterpretation, the other side has it. In the widest and most correct\nsense of the word, an activity is \u201cuseful\u201d when it has good results.\nAnd these results must be \u201cgood\u201d in some other sense than merely\n\u201cuseful\u201d, or else we have no true definition. We cannot say that a\nuseful activity is one which has useful results. The essence of what\nis \u201cuseful\u201d is that it ministers to some result which is not merely\nuseful. Sometimes a long chain of results is necessary before the final\nresult is reached which can be called simply \u201cgood\u201d. A plough is useful\nbecause it breaks up the ground. But breaking up the ground is not good\non its own account: it is in turn merely useful because it enables seed\nto be sown. This is useful because it produces grain, which is useful\nbecause it produces bread, which is useful because it preserves life.\nBut life must be capable of some intrinsic value: if life were merely\nuseful as a means to other life, it would not be useful at all. Life\nmay be good or bad according to circumstances; it may therefore also be\nuseful, when it is a means to good life. Somewhere we must get beyond\nthe chain of successive utilities, and find a peg from which the chain\nis to hang; if not, there is no real usefulness in any link of the\nchain. When \u201cuseful\u201d is defined in this way, there can be no question\nwhether education should be useful. Of course it should, since the\nprocess of educating is a means to an end, not an end in itself. But\nthat is not quite what the advocates of utility in education have in\nmind. What they are urging is that the _result_ of education should be\nuseful: put crudely, they would say that an educated man is a man who\nknows how to make machines. If we ask what is the use of machines, the\nanswer is ultimately that they produce necessaries and comforts for the\nbody--food, clothing, houses, etc. Thus we find that the advocate of\nutility, in the sense in which his view is questionable, is a man who\nattaches intrinsic value only to physical satisfactions: the \u201cuseful\u201d,\nfor him, is that which helps us to gratify the needs and desires of\nthe body. When this is what is really meant, the advocate of utility\nis certainly in the wrong if he is enunciating an ultimate philosophy,\nthough in a world where many people are starving he may be right as\na politician, since the satisfaction of physical needs may be at the\nmoment more urgent than anything else.\n\nMuch the same sort of dissection is necessary in considering the other\nside of this controversy. To call the other side \u201cornamental\u201d is, of\ncourse, to concede a point to the advocate of utility, since \u201cornament\u201d\nis understood to be more or less trivial. The epithet \u201cornamental\u201d\nis quite justified as applied to the traditional conception of a\n\u201cgentleman\u201d or a \u201clady\u201d. The eighteenth-century gentleman spoke with a\nrefined accent, quoted the classics on appropriate occasions, dressed\nin the fashion, understood punctilio and knew when a duel would\nadvance his reputation. There is a man in \u201cThe Rape of the Lock\u201d who was\n\n      of amber snuff-box justly vain,\n  And the nice conduct of a clouded cane.\n\nHis education had been ornamental in the narrowest sense, and in our\nage few of us are rich enough to be content with his accomplishments.\nThe ideal of an \u201cornamental\u201d education in the old sense is\naristocratic: it presupposes a class with plenty of money and no need\nto work. Fine gentlemen and fine ladies are charming to contemplate in\nhistory; their memoirs and their country houses give us a certain kind\nof pleasure which we no longer provide for our posterity. But their\nexcellences, even when real, were by no means supreme, and they were an\nincredibly expensive product: Hogarth\u2019s \u201cGin Lane\u201d gives a vivid idea\nof the price that was paid for them. No one nowadays would advocate an\nornamental education in this narrow sense.\n\nBut that is not the real issue. The real issue is: should we, in\neducation, aim at filling the mind with knowledge which has direct\npractical utility, or should we try to give our pupils mental\npossessions which are good on their own account? It is useful to know\nthat there are twelve inches in a foot, and three feet in a yard,\nbut this knowledge has no intrinsic value; to those who live where\nthe metric system is in use, it is utterly worthless. To appreciate\n\u201cHamlet\u201d, on the other hand, will not be much use in practical life,\nexcept in those rare cases where a man is called upon to kill his\nuncle; but it gives a man a mental possession which he would be sorry\nto be without, and makes him in some sense a more excellent human\nbeing. It is this latter sort of knowledge that is preferred by the man\nwho argues that utility is not the sole aim of education.\n\nThere appear to be three different substantial issues wrapped up in\nthe debate between advocates of a utilitarian education and their\nopponents. There is first a form of the debate between aristocrats\nand democrats, the former holding that the privileged class should be\ntaught to employ its leisure in ways that are agreeable to itself,\nwhile the subordinate class should be taught to employ its labour in\nways that are useful to others. The opposition of the democrats to\nthis view tends to be somewhat confused: they dislike the teaching of\nwhat is useless to the aristocrat, and at the same time argue that\nthe wage-earner\u2019s education should not be confined to what is useful.\nThus we find a democratic opposition to the old-fashioned classical\neducation in the public schools, combined with a democratic demand\nthat working men should have opportunities for learning Latin and\nGreek. This attitude, even though it may imply some lack of theoretical\nclarity, is on the whole right in practice. The democrat does not\nwish to divide the community into two sections, one useful and one\nornamental; he will therefore give more merely useful knowledge to\nthe hitherto merely ornamental classes, and more merely delightful\nknowledge to the hitherto merely useful classes. But democracy, _per\nse_, does not decide the proportions in which these ingredients should\nbe mixed.\n\nThe second issue is between men who aim only at material goods and\nmen who care for mental delights. Most modern well-to-do Englishmen\nand Americans, if they were transported by magic into the age of\nElizabeth, would wish themselves back in the modern world. The society\nof Shakespeare and Raleigh and Sir Philip Sydney, the exquisite\nmusic, the beauty of the architecture would not console them for the\nabsence of bath-rooms, tea and coffee, motor-cars, and other material\ncomforts of which that age was ignorant. Such men, except in so far\nas they are influenced by conservative tradition, tend to think that\nthe main purpose of education is to increase the number and variety of\ncommodities produced. They may include medicine and hygiene, but they\nwill not feel any enthusiasm for literature or art or philosophy.\nUndoubtedly such men have provided a great part of the driving force\nfor the attack upon the classical curriculum established at the\nrenaissance.\n\nI do not think it would be fair to meet this attitude by the mere\nassertion that mental goods are of more value than such as are purely\nphysical. I believe this assertion to be true, but not the whole truth.\nFor, while physical goods have no very high value, physical evils may\nbe so bad as to outweigh a great deal of mental excellence. Starvation\nand disease, and the ever-present fear of them, have overshadowed the\nlives of the great majority of mankind since foresight first became\npossible. Most birds die of starvation, but they are happy when food\nis abundant, because they do not think about the future. Peasants\nwho have survived a famine will be perpetually haunted by memory and\napprehension. Men are willing to toil long hours for a pittance rather\nthan die, while animals prefer to snatch pleasure when it is available,\neven if death is the penalty. It has thus come about that most men have\nput up with a life almost wholly devoid of pleasure, because on any\nother terms life would be brief. For the first time in history, it is\nnow possible, owing to the industrial revolution and its by-products,\nto create a world where everybody shall have a reasonable chance of\nhappiness. Physical evil can, if we choose, be reduced to very small\nproportions. It would be possible, by organization and science, to\nfeed and house the whole population of the world, not luxuriously, but\nsufficiently to prevent great suffering. It would be possible to combat\ndisease, and to make chronic ill-health very rare. It would be possible\nto prevent the increase of population from outrunning improvements in\nthe food supply. The great terrors which have darkened the subconscious\nmind of the race, bringing cruelty, oppression, and war in their train,\ncould be so much diminished as to be no longer important. All this\nis of such immeasurable value to human life that we dare not oppose\nthe sort of education which will tend to bring it about. In such an\neducation, applied science will have to be the chief ingredient.\nWithout physics and physiology and psychology, we cannot build the\nnew world. We can build it without Latin and Greek, without Dante and\nShakespeare, without Bach and Mozart. That is the great argument in\nfavour of a utilitarian education. I have stated it strongly, because I\nfeel it strongly. Nevertheless, there is another side to the question.\nWhat will be the good of the conquest of leisure and health, if no one\nremembers how to use them? The war against physical evil, like every\nother war, must not be conducted with such fury as to render men\nincapable of the arts of peace. What the world possesses of ultimate\ngood must not be allowed to perish in the struggle against evil.\n\nThis brings me to the third issue involved in our controversy. Is it\ntrue that only useless knowledge is intrinsically valuable? Is it true\nthat any intrinsically valuable knowledge is useless? For my part, I\nspent in youth a considerable proportion of my time upon Latin and\nGreek, which I now consider to have been almost completely wasted.\nClassical knowledge afforded me no help whatever in any of the problems\nwith which I was concerned in later life. Like ninety-nine per cent\nof those who are taught the classics, I never acquired sufficient\nproficiency to read them for pleasure. I learned such things as the\ngenitive of \u201csupellex\u201d, which I have never been able to forget. This\nknowledge has no more intrinsic value than the knowledge that there\nare three feet to a yard; and its utility, to me, has been strictly\nconfined to affording me the present illustration. On the other hand,\nwhat I learned of mathematics and science has been not only of immense\nutility, but also of great intrinsic value, as affording subjects of\ncontemplation and reflection, and touchstones of truth in a deceitful\nworld. This is, of course, in part a personal idiosyncrasy; but I\nam sure that a capacity to profit by the classics is a still rarer\nidiosyncrasy among modern men. France and Germany also have valuable\nliteratures; their languages are easily learnt, and are useful in many\npractical ways. The case for French and German, as against Latin and\nGreek, is therefore overwhelming. Without belittling the importance of\nthe sort of knowledge which has no immediate practical utility, I think\nwe may fairly demand that, except in the education of specialists,\nsuch knowledge shall be given in ways that do not demand an immense\nexpenditure of time and energy on technical apparatus such as grammar.\nThe sum of human knowledge and the complexity of human problems are\nperpetually increasing; therefore every generation must overhaul its\neducational methods if time is to be found for what is new. We must\npreserve the balance by means of compromises. The humanistic elements\nin education must remain, but they must be sufficiently simplified to\nleave room for the other elements without which the new world rendered\npossible by science can never be created.\n\nI do not wish to suggest that the humanistic elements in education are\nless important than the utilitarian elements. To know something of\ngreat literature, something of world history, something of music and\npainting and architecture, is essential if the life of imagination is\nto be fully developed. And it is only through imagination that men\nbecome aware of what the world might be; without it, \u201cprogress\u201d would\nbecome mechanical and trivial. But science, also, can stimulate the\nimagination. When I was a boy, astronomy and geology did more for me\nin this respect than the literatures of England, France and Germany,\nmany of whose masterpieces I read under compulsion without the faintest\ninterest. This is a personal matter: one boy or girl will derive\nstimulus from one source, another from another. What I suggest is that,\nwhere a difficult technique is indispensable to the mastering of a\nsubject, it is better, except in training specialists, that the subject\nshould be useful. In the time of the renaissance, there was little\ngreat literature in modern languages; now there is a great deal. Much\nof the value of the Greek tradition can be conveyed to people who do\nnot know Greek; and as for the Latin tradition, its value is not really\nvery great. I should, therefore, where boys and girls without special\naptitudes are concerned, supply the humanistic elements of education\nin ways not involving a great apparatus of learning; the difficult\npart of education, in the later years, I should, as a rule, confine to\nmathematics and science. But I should make exceptions wherever a strong\nbent or special ability pointed in other directions. Cast-iron rules\nare above all things to be avoided.\n\nIn a mechanistic civilization, there is grave danger of a crude\nutilitarianism, which sacrifices the whole \u00e6sthetic side of life to\nwhat is called \u201cefficiency\u201d. Perhaps I am old-fashioned, but I must\nconfess that I view with alarm the theory that language is merely a\nmeans of communication, and not also a vehicle of beauty. This tendency\nis world-wide, but naturally it has advanced in America. In a more or\nless authoritative book published by the Children\u2019s Foundation,[1] I\nfind some remarks on the teaching of English which seem to exemplify\nthe tendency I deplore. For example:\n\n\u201cTwenty-five years ago pupils learnt from ten to fifteen thousand\nwords, but as a result of investigations carried on during the past\ntwo decades, it has been found that the typical graduate of a high\nschool does not need in his school work, and will not need in later\nlife, to spell more than three thousand words at the outside, unless\nhe engages in some technical pursuit, when it may be necessary for him\nto master a special and technical vocabulary. The typical American in\nhis correspondence rarely employs more than fifteen hundred different\nwords; many of us never use more than half this number. In view of\nthese facts, the course of spelling in the schools to-day is being\nconstructed on the principle that the words that will be actually\nused in daily life should be mastered so that they can be spelled\nautomatically, and the technical and unusual words that were formerly\ntaught but that will probably never be used are being eliminated\u201d (p.\n384).\n\nThis seems to me a most singular inversion. It is still thought that\na man should know how to spell a word he is going to use, although\nShakespeare and Milton could not spell, and the importance of spelling\nis purely and solely conventional. But for this trivial purpose there\nis a willingness to sacrifice the teaching of a large vocabulary,\nwithout which it is impossible to write well, or even to understand\ngood writing. The important thing is not to know how to _spell_ words,\nbut how to _use_ them; evidently this was not taught in the days\nwhen boys learned to spell 15,000 words but men only used 1,500. The\nway to learn to _use_ words is to read some good literature often\nand carefully, intensively, not extensively. But careful reading is\npositively discouraged. The same book says of school-children: \u201cThey\nare trained to read as rapidly as possible so that they will not be\nhalted in the gaining of meaning by giving attention to separate words,\nsince explicit awareness of separate words in one\u2019s reading delays and\noften confuses the process of interpreting the thought contained in the\nreading\u201d (p. 420). I wonder what pupils so trained would make of\n\n          Sabrina fair,\n  Listen where thou art sitting\n  Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave,\n  In twisted braids of lilies knitting\n  The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair.\n\nNo doubt it will be said that the modern man has no time for such\ntrivialities as the appreciation of great poetry. Yet the very men who\nsay this are prepared to set aside a great deal of time in order to\nteach young men how to kill each other scientifically. This is surely\nthe _reductio ad absurdum_ of a utilitarian philosophy.\n\nSo far, we have been considering what sort of knowledge should be\nimparted. I come now to a different set of problems, concerned partly\nwith methods of teaching, partly with moral education and the training\nof character. Here we are no longer concerned with politics, but with\npsychology and ethics. Psychology was, until fairly lately, a merely\nacademic study, with very little application to practical affairs.\nThis is all changed now. We have, for instance, industrial psychology,\nclinical psychology, educational psychology, all of the greatest\npractical importance. We may hope and expect that the influence of\npsychology upon our institutions will rapidly increase in the near\nfuture. In education, at any rate, its effect has already been great\nand beneficent.\n\nLet us take first the question of \u201cdiscipline\u201d. The old idea of\ndiscipline was simple. A child or boy was ordered to do something\nhe disliked, or abstain from something he liked. When he disobeyed,\nhe suffered physical chastisement, or, in extreme cases, solitary\nconfinement on bread and water. Read, for example, the chapter in \u201cThe\nFairchild Family\u201d about how little Henry was taught Latin. He was told\nthat he could never hope to become a clergyman unless he learned that\nlanguage, but in spite of this argument the little boy did not apply\nhimself to his book as earnestly as his father desired. So he was shut\nup in an attic, given only bread and water, and forbidden to speak to\nhis sisters, who were told that he was in disgrace and they must have\nnothing to do with him. Nevertheless, one of them brought him some\nfood. The footman told on her, and she got into trouble too. After a\ncertain period in prison, the boy, we are told, began to love Latin and\nworked assiduously ever after. Contrast with this Chekov\u2019s story about\nhis uncle who tried to teach a kitten to catch mice. He brought a mouse\ninto the room where the kitten was, but the kitten\u2019s hunting instinct\nwas not yet developed, and it paid no attention to the mouse. So he\nbeat it. The next day the same process was repeated, and the next and\nthe next. At last the Professor became persuaded that it was a stupid\nkitten, and quite unteachable. In later life, though otherwise normal,\nit could never see a mouse without sweating in terror and running away.\n\u201cLike the kitten,\u201d Chekov concludes, \u201cI had the honour of being taught\nLatin by my uncle.\u201d These two stories illustrate the old discipline and\nthe modern revolt against it.\n\nBut the modern educationist does not simply eschew discipline; he\nsecures it by new methods. On this subject, those who have not studied\nthe new methods are apt to have mistaken ideas. I had always understood\nthat Madame Montessori dispensed with discipline, and I had wondered\nhow she managed a roomful of children. On reading her own account of\nher methods, I found that discipline still held an important place, and\nthat there was no attempt to dispense with it. On sending my little boy\nof three to spend his mornings in a Montessori school, I found that he\nquickly became a more disciplined human being, and that he cheerfully\nacquiesced in the rules of the school. But he had no feeling whatever\nof external compulsion: the rules were like the rules of a game, and\nwere obeyed as a means of enjoyment. The old idea was that children\ncould not possibly _wish_ to learn, and could only be compelled to\nlearn by terror. It has been found that this was entirely due to\nlack of skill in pedagogy. By dividing what has to be learnt--for\ninstance, reading and writing--into suitable stages, every stage can\nbe made agreeable to the average child. And when children are doing\nwhat they like, there is of course no reason for external discipline.\nA few simple rules--no child must interfere with another child, no\nchild must have more than one sort of apparatus at a time--are easily\napprehended, and felt to be reasonable, so that there is no difficulty\nin getting them observed. The child thus acquires self-discipline,\nwhich consists partly of good habits, partly of the realization, in\nconcrete instances, that it is sometimes worth while to resist an\nimpulse for the sake of some ultimate gain. Everybody has always known\nthat it is easy to obtain this self-discipline in games, but no one had\nsupposed that the acquisition of knowledge could be made sufficiently\ninteresting to bring the same motives into operation. We now know\nthat this is possible, and it will come to be done, not only in the\neducation of infants, but at all stages. I do not pretend that it is\neasy. The pedagogical discoveries involved have required genius, but\nthe teachers who are to apply them do not require genius. They require\nonly the right sort of training, together with a degree of sympathy and\npatience which is by no means unusual. The fundamental idea is simple:\nthat the right discipline consists, not in external compulsion, but\nin habits of mind which lead spontaneously to desirable rather than\nundesirable activities. What is astonishing is the great success in\nfinding technical methods of embodying this idea in education. For\nthis, Madame Montessori deserves the highest praise.\n\nThe change in educational methods has been very much influenced by the\ndecay of the belief in original sin. The traditional view, now nearly\nextinct, was that we are all born Children of Wrath, with a nature full\nof wickedness; before there can be any good in us, we have to become\nChildren of Grace, a process much accelerated by frequent castigation.\nMost moderns can hardly believe how much this theory influenced the\neducation of our fathers and grandfathers. Two quotations from the\nlife of Dr. Arnold by Dean Stanley will show that they are mistaken.\nDean Stanley was Dr. Arnold\u2019s favourite pupil, the good boy Arthur in\n\u201cTom Brown\u2019s School Days\u201d. He was a cousin of the present writer, who\nwas shown over Westminster Abbey by him as a boy. Dr. Arnold was the\ngreat reformer of our public schools, which are viewed as one of the\nglories of England, and are still conducted largely according to his\nprinciples. In discussing Dr. Arnold, therefore, we are dealing, not\nwith something belonging to the remote past, but with something which\nto this day is efficacious in moulding upper-class Englishmen. Dr.\nArnold diminished flogging, retaining it only for the younger boys,\nand confining it, so his biographer tells us, to \u201cmoral offences, such\nas lying, drinking, and habitual idleness\u201d. But when a liberal journal\nsuggested that flogging was a degrading punishment, which ought to be\nabolished altogether, he was amazingly indignant. He replied in print:\n\n  I know well of what feeling this is the expression; it originates\n  in that proud notion of personal independence which is neither\n  reasonable nor Christian, but essentially barbarian. It visited\n  Europe with all the curses of the age of chivalry, and is threatening\n  us now with those of Jacobinism.... At an age when it is almost\n  impossible to find a true manly sense of the degradation of guilt or\n  faults, where is the wisdom of encouraging a fantastic sense of the\n  degradation of personal correction? What can be more false, or more\n  adverse to the simplicity, sobriety and humbleness of mind, which are\n  the best ornament of youth, and the best promise of a noble manhood?\n\nThe pupils of his disciples, not unnaturally, believe in flogging\nnatives of India when they are deficient in \u201chumbleness of mind\u201d.\n\nThere is another passage, already quoted in part by Mr. Strachey in\n\u201cEminent Victorians\u201d, but so apt that I cannot forbear to quote it\nagain. Dr. Arnold was away on a holiday, enjoying the beauties of the\nLake of Como. The form his enjoyment took is recorded in a letter to\nhis wife, as follows:\n\n  It is almost awful to look at the overwhelming beauty around me, and\n  then think of moral evil; it seems as if heaven and hell, instead of\n  being separated by a great gulf from one another, were absolutely on\n  each other\u2019s confines, and indeed not far from every one of us. Might\n  the sense of moral evil be as strong in me as my delight in external\n  beauty, for in a deep sense of moral evil, more perhaps than in\n  anything else, abides a saving knowledge of God! It is not so much to\n  admire moral good; that we may do, and yet not be ourselves conformed\n  to it; but if we really do abhor that which is evil, not the persons\n  in whom evil resides, but the evil which dwelleth in them, and much\n  more manifestly and certainly to our own knowledge, in our own\n  hearts--this is to have the feeling of God and of Christ, and to have\n  our Spirit in sympathy with the Spirit of God. Alas! how easy to see\n  this and say it--how hard to do it and to feel it! Who is sufficient\n  for these things? No one, but he who feels and really laments his\n  own insufficiency. God bless you, my dearest wife, and our beloved\n  children, now and evermore, through Christ Jesus.\n\nIt is pathetic to see this naturally kindly gentleman lashing himself\ninto a mood of sadism, in which he can flog little boys without\ncompunction, and all under the impression that he is conforming to\nthe religion of Love. It is pathetic when we consider the deluded\nindividual; but it is tragic when we think of the generations of\ncruelty that he put into the world by creating an atmosphere of\nabhorrence of \u201cmoral evil\u201d, which, it will be remembered, includes\nhabitual idleness in children. I shudder when I think of the wars, the\ntortures, the oppressions, of which upright men have been guilty, under\nthe impression that they were righteously castigating \u201cmoral evil\u201d.\nMercifully, educators no longer regard little children as limbs of\nSatan. There is still too much of this view in dealings with adults,\nparticularly in the punishment of crime; but in the nursery and the\nschool it has almost disappeared.\n\nThere is an opposite error to Dr. Arnold\u2019s, far less pernicious, but\nstill scientifically an error, and that is the belief that children\nare naturally virtuous, and are only corrupted by the spectacle of\ntheir elders\u2019 vices. This view is traditionally associated with\nRousseau; perhaps he held it in the abstract, but when one reads\n\u201cEmile\u201d one finds that the pupil stood in need of much moral training\nbefore he became the paragon that the system was designed to produce.\nThe fact is that children are not naturally either \u201cgood\u201d or \u201cbad\u201d.\nThey are born with only reflexes and a few instincts; out of these,\nby the action of the environment, habits are produced, which may be\neither healthy or morbid. Which they are to be, depends chiefly upon\nthe wisdom of mothers or nurses, the child\u2019s nature being, at first,\nalmost incredibly malleable. In the immense majority of children,\nthere is the raw material of a good citizen, and also the raw material\nof a criminal. Scientific psychology shows that flogging on weekdays\nand sermons on Sundays do not constitute the ideal technique for the\nproduction of virtue. But it is not to be inferred that there is no\ntechnique for this purpose. It is difficult to resist Samuel Butler\u2019s\nview that the educators of former times took a pleasure in torturing\nchildren; otherwise it is hard to see how they can have persisted\nso long in inflicting useless misery. It is not difficult to make a\nhealthy child happy, and most children will be healthy if their minds\nand bodies are properly tended. Happiness in childhood is absolutely\nnecessary to the production of the best type of human being. Habitual\nidleness, which Dr. Arnold regarded as a form of \u201cmoral evil\u201d, will not\nexist if the child is made to feel that its education is teaching it\nsomething worth knowing.[2] But if the knowledge imparted is worthless,\nand those who impart it appear as cruel tyrants, the child will\nnaturally behave like Chekov\u2019s kitten. The spontaneous wish to learn,\nwhich every normal child possesses, as shown in its efforts to walk and\ntalk, should be the driving force in education. The substitution of\nthis driving force for the rod is one of the great advances of our time.\n\nThis brings me to the last point which I wish to notice in this\npreliminary survey of modern tendencies--I mean, the greater attention\npaid to infancy. This is closely connected with the change in our\nideas as to the training of character. The old idea was that virtue\ndepends essentially upon _will_: we were supposed to be full of bad\ndesires, which we controlled by an abstract faculty of volition. It\nwas apparently regarded as impossible to root out bad desires; all we\ncould do was to control them. The situation was exactly analogous to\nthat of the criminal and the police. No one supposed that a society\nwithout would-be criminals was possible; the most that could be done\nwas to have such an efficient police force that most people would be\nafraid to commit crimes, and the few exceptions would be caught and\npunished. The modern psychological criminologist is not content with\nthis view; he believes that the impulse to crime could, in most cases,\nbe prevented from developing by suitable education. And what applies to\nsociety applies also to the individual. Children, especially, wish to\nbe liked by their elders and their companions; they have, as a rule,\nimpulses which can be developed in good or bad directions according\nto the situations in which they find themselves. Moreover they are at\nan age at which the formation of new habits is still easy; and good\nhabits can make a great part of virtue almost automatic. On the other\nhand, the older type of virtue, which left bad desires rampant, and\nmerely used will-power to check their manifestations, has been found to\nafford a far from satisfactory method of controlling bad conduct. The\nbad desires, like a river which has been dammed, find some other outlet\nwhich has escaped the watchful eye of the will. The man who, in youth,\nwould have liked to murder his father, finds satisfaction later on in\nflogging his son, under the impression that he is chastising \u201cmoral\nevil\u201d. Theories which justify cruelty almost always have their source\nin some desire diverted by the will from its natural channel, driven\nunderground, and at last emerging unrecognized as hatred of sin or\nsomething equally respectable. The control of bad desires by the will,\ntherefore, though necessary on occasion, is inadequate as a technique\nof virtue.\n\nThese considerations bring us to the province of psycho-analysis. There\nis much in the detail of psycho-analysis which I find fantastic, and\nnot supported by adequate evidence. But the general method appears to\nme very important, and essential to the creation of right methods of\nmoral training. The importance which many psycho-analysts attach to\nearly infancy appears to me exaggerated; they sometimes talk as if\ncharacter were irrevocably fixed by the time a child is three years\nold. This, I am sure, is not the case. But the fault is a fault on the\nright side. Infant psychology was neglected in the past; indeed, the\nintellectualist methods in vogue made it almost impossible. Take such\na matter as sleep. All mothers wish their children to sleep, because\nit is both healthy and convenient when they do. They had developed a\ncertain technique: rocking the cradle and singing lullabys. It was left\nfor males who investigated the matter scientifically to discover that\nthis technique is ideally wrong, for though it is likely to succeed on\nany given day, it creates bad habits. Every child loves to be made a\nfuss of, because its sense of self-importance is gratified. If it finds\nthat by not sleeping it secures attention, it will soon learn to adopt\nthis method. The result is equally damaging to health and character.\nThe great thing here is the formation of habit: the association of\nthe cot with sleep. If this association has been adequately produced,\nthe child will not lie awake unless it is ill or in pain. But the\nproduction of the association requires a certain amount of discipline;\nit is not to be achieved by mere indulgence, since that causes\npleasurable associations with lying awake. Similar considerations apply\nto the formation of other good and bad habits. This whole study is\nstill in its infancy, but its importance is already very great, and\nalmost sure to become greater. It is clear that education of character\nmust begin at birth, and requires a reversal of much of the practice of\nnurses and ignorant mothers. It is also clear that definite instruction\ncan begin earlier than was formerly thought, because it can be made\npleasant and no strain upon the infant\u2019s powers of attention. In both\nthese respects educational theory has been radically transformed in\nrecent years, with beneficent effects which are likely to become more\nand more evident as the years go by. Accordingly I shall begin, in\nwhat follows, with a fairly detailed consideration of the training of\ncharacter in infancy, before discussing the instruction to be given in\nlater years.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE AIMS OF EDUCATION\n\n\nBefore considering how to educate, it is well to be clear as to the\nsort of result which we wish to achieve. Dr. Arnold wanted \u201chumbleness\nof mind\u201d, a quality not possessed by Aristotle\u2019s \u201cmagnanimous man\u201d.\nNietzsche\u2019s ideal is not that of Christianity. No more is Kant\u2019s: for\nwhile Christ enjoins love, Kant teaches that no action of which love\nis the motive can be truly virtuous. And even people who agree as to\nthe ingredients of a good character may differ as to their relative\nimportance. One man will emphasize courage, another learning, another\nkindliness, and another rectitude. One man, like the elder Brutus, will\nput duty to the State above family affection; another, like Confucius,\nwill put family affection first. All these divergences will produce\ndifferences as to education. We must have some conception of the kind\nof person we wish to produce, before we can have any definite opinion\nas to the education which we consider best.\n\nOf course an educator may be foolish, in the sense that he produces\nresults other than those at which he was aiming. Uriah Heep was the\noutcome of lessons in humility at a Charity School, which had had an\neffect quite different from what was intended. But in the main the\nablest educators have been fairly successful. Take as examples the\nChinese literati, the modern Japanese, the Jesuits, Dr. Arnold, and the\nmen who direct the policy of the American public schools. All these,\nin their various ways, have been highly successful. The results aimed\nat in the different cases were utterly different, but in the main the\nresults were achieved. It may be worth while to spend a few moments on\nthese different systems, before attempting to decide what we should\nourselves regard as the aims which education should have in view.\n\nTraditional Chinese education was, in some respects, very similar to\nthat of Athens in its best days. Athenian boys were made to learn\nHomer by heart from beginning to end; Chinese boys were made to learn\nthe Confucian classics with similar thoroughness. Athenians were\ntaught a kind of reverence for the gods which consisted in outward\nobservances, and placed no barrier in the way of free intellectual\nspeculation. Similarly the Chinese were taught certain rites connected\nwith ancestor-worship, but were by no means obliged to have the\nbeliefs which the rites would seem to imply. An easy and elegant\nscepticism was the attitude expected of an educated adult: anything\nmight be discussed, but it was a trifle vulgar to reach very positive\nconclusions. Opinions should be such as could be discussed pleasantly\nat dinner, not such as men would fight for. Carlyle calls Plato \u201ca\nlordly Athenian gentleman, very much at his ease in Zion\u201d. This\ncharacteristic of being \u201cat his ease in Zion\u201d is also found in Chinese\nsages, and is, as a rule, absent from the sages produced by Christian\ncivilizations, except when, like Goethe, they have deeply imbibed the\nspirit of Hellenism. The Athenians and the Chinese alike wished to\nenjoy life, and had a conception of enjoyment which was refined by an\nexquisite sense of beauty.\n\nThere were, however, great differences between the two civilizations,\nowing to the fact that, broadly speaking, the Greeks were energetic\nand the Chinese were lazy. The Greeks devoted their energies to art\nand science and mutual extermination, in all of which they achieved\nunprecedented success. Politics and patriotism afforded practical\noutlets for Greek energy: when a politician was ousted, he led a band\nof exiles to attack his native city. When a Chinese official was\ndisgraced, he retired to the hills and wrote poems on the pleasures of\ncountry life. Accordingly the Greek civilization destroyed itself, but\nthe Chinese civilization could only be destroyed from without. These\ndifferences, however, seem not wholly attributable to education, since\nConfucianism in Japan never produced the indolent cultured scepticism\nwhich characterized the Chinese literati, except in the Kyoto nobility,\nwho formed a kind of Faubourg Saint Germain.\n\nChinese education produced stability and art; it failed to produce\nprogress or science. Perhaps this may be taken as what is to be\nexpected of scepticism. Passionate beliefs produce either progress or\ndisaster, not stability. Science, even when it attacks traditional\nbeliefs, has beliefs of its own, and can scarcely flourish in an\natmosphere of literary scepticism. In a pugnacious world which has\nbeen unified by modern inventions, energy is needed for national\nself-preservation. And without science, democracy is impossible: the\nChinese civilization was confined to the small percentage of educated\nmen, and the Greek civilization was based on slavery. For these\nreasons, the traditional education of China is not suited to the modern\nworld, and has been abandoned by the Chinese themselves. Cultivated\neighteenth-century gentlemen, who in some respects resembled Chinese\nliterati, have become impossible for the same reasons.\n\nModern Japan affords the clearest illustration of a tendency which is\nprominent among all the Great Powers--the tendency to make national\ngreatness the supreme purpose of education. The aim of Japanese\neducation is to produce citizens who shall be devoted to the State\nthrough the training of their passions, and useful to it through\nthe knowledge they have acquired. I cannot sufficiently praise the\nskill with which this double purpose has been pursued. Ever since\nthe advent of Commodore Perry\u2019s squadron, the Japanese have been in\na situation in which self-preservation was very difficult; their\nsuccess affords a justification of their methods, unless we are to hold\nthat self-preservation itself may be culpable. But only a desperate\nsituation could have justified their educational methods, which would\nhave been culpable in any nation not in imminent peril. The Shinto\nreligion, which must not be called in question even by university\nprofessors, involves history which is just as dubious as Genesis; the\nDayton trial pales into insignificance beside the theological tyranny\nin Japan. There is an equal ethical tyranny: nationalism, filial piety,\nMikado-worship, etc., must not be called in question, and therefore\nmany kinds of progress are scarcely possible. The great danger of a\ncast-iron system of this sort is that it may provoke revolution as the\nsole method of progress. This danger is real, though not immediate, and\nis largely caused by the educational system.\n\nWe have thus in modern Japan a defect opposite to that of ancient\nChina. Whereas the Chinese literati were too sceptical and lazy, the\nproducts of Japanese education are likely to be too dogmatic and\nenergetic. Neither acquiescence in scepticism nor acquiescence in dogma\nis what education should produce. What it should produce is a belief\nthat knowledge is attainable in a measure, though with difficulty; that\nmuch of what passes for knowledge at any given time is likely to be\nmore or less mistaken, but that the mistakes can be rectified by care\nand industry. In acting upon our beliefs, we should be very cautious\nwhere a small error would mean disaster; nevertheless it is upon our\nbeliefs that we must act. This state of mind is rather difficult:\nit requires a high degree of intellectual culture without emotional\natrophy. But though difficult it is not impossible; it is in fact the\nscientific temper. Knowledge, like other good things, is difficult,\nbut not impossible; the dogmatist forgets the difficulty, the sceptic\ndenies the possibility. Both are mistaken, and their errors, when\nwide-spread, produce social disaster.\n\nThe Jesuits, like the modern Japanese, made the mistake of\nsubordinating education to the welfare of an institution--in their\ncase, the Catholic Church. They were not concerned primarily with the\ngood of the particular pupil, but with making him a means to the good\nof the Church. If we accept their theology, we cannot blame them: to\nsave souls from hell is more important than any merely terrestrial\nconcern, and is only to be achieved by the Catholic Church. But those\nwho do not accept this dogma will judge Jesuit education by its\nresults. These results, it is true, were sometimes quite as undesired\nas Uriah Heep: Voltaire was a product of Jesuit methods. But on the\nwhole, and for a long time, the intended results were achieved: the\ncounter-reformation, and the collapse of Protestantism in France, must\nbe largely attributed to Jesuit efforts. To achieve these ends, they\nmade art sentimental, thought superficial, and morals loose; in the\nend, the French Revolution was needed to sweep away the harm that they\nhad done. In education, their crime was that they were not actuated by\nlove of their pupils, but by ulterior ends.\n\nDr. Arnold\u2019s system, which has remained in force in English public\nschools to the present day, had another defect, namely that it was\naristocratic. The aim was to train men for positions of authority\nand power, whether at home or in distant parts of the empire. An\naristocracy, if it is to survive, needs certain virtues; these were\nto be imparted at school. The product was to be energetic, stoical,\nphysically fit, possessed of certain unalterable beliefs, with high\nstandards of rectitude, and convinced that it had an important mission\nin the world. To a surprising extent, these results were achieved.\nIntellect was sacrificed to them, because intellect might produce\ndoubt. Sympathy was sacrificed, because it might interfere with\ngoverning \u201cinferior\u201d races or classes. Kindliness was sacrificed for\nthe sake of toughness; imagination, for the sake of firmness. In an\nunchanging world, the result might have been a permanent aristocracy,\npossessing the merits and defects of the Spartans. But aristocracy\nis out-of-date, and subject populations will no longer obey even the\nmost wise and virtuous rulers. The rulers are driven into brutality,\nand brutality further encourages revolt. The complexity of the modern\nworld increasingly requires intelligence, and Dr. Arnold sacrificed\nintelligence to \u201cvirtue\u201d. The battle of Waterloo may have been won\non the playing-fields of Eton, but the British Empire is being lost\nthere. The modern world needs a different type, with more imaginative\nsympathy, more intellectual suppleness, less belief in bulldog courage\nand more belief in technical knowledge. The administrator of the\nfuture must be the servant of free citizens, not the benevolent ruler\nof admiring subjects. The aristocratic tradition embedded in British\nhigher education is its bane. Perhaps this tradition can be eliminated\ngradually; perhaps the older educational institutions will be found\nincapable of adapting themselves. As to that, I do not venture an\nopinion.\n\nThe American public schools achieve successfully a task never before\nattempted on a large scale: the task of transforming a heterogeneous\nselection of mankind into a homogeneous nation. This is done so ably,\nand is on the whole such a beneficent work, that on the balance great\npraise is due to those who accomplish it. But America, like Japan, is\nplaced in a peculiar situation, and what the special circumstances\njustify is not necessarily an ideal to be followed everywhere and\nalways. America has had certain advantages and certain difficulties.\nAmong the advantages were: a higher standard of wealth; freedom from\nthe danger of defeat in war; comparative absence of cramping traditions\ninherited from the Middle Ages. Immigrants found in America a generally\ndiffused sentiment of democracy and an advanced stage of industrial\ntechnique. These, I think, are the two chief reasons why almost all\nof them came to admire America more than their native countries. But\nactual immigrants, as a rule, retain a dual patriotism: in European\nstruggles they continue to take passionately the side of the nation\nto which they originally belonged. Their children, on the contrary,\nlose all loyalty to the country from which their parents have come,\nand become merely and simply Americans. The attitude of the parents is\nattributable to the general merits of America; that of the children\nis very largely determined by their school education. It is only the\ncontribution of the school that concerns us.\n\nIn so far as the school can rely upon the genuine merits of America,\nthere is no need to associate the teaching of American patriotism with\nthe inculcation of false standards. But where the Old World is superior\nto the New, it becomes necessary to instil a contempt for genuine\nexcellences. The intellectual level in Western Europe and the artistic\nlevel in Eastern Europe are, on the whole, higher than in America.\nThroughout Western Europe, except in Spain and Portugal, there is\nless theological superstition than in America. In almost all European\ncountries the individual is less subject to herd domination than in\nAmerica: his inner freedom is greater even where his political freedom\nis less. In these respects, the American public schools do harm. The\nharm is essential to the teaching of an exclusive American patriotism.\nThe harm, as with the Japanese and the Jesuits, comes from regarding\nthe pupils as means to an end, not as ends in themselves. The teacher\nshould love his children better than his State or his Church; otherwise\nhe is not an ideal teacher.\n\nWhen I say that pupils should be regarded as ends, not as means, I\nmay be met by the retort that, after all, everybody is more important\nas a means than as an end. What a man is as an end perishes when he\ndies; what he produces as a means continues to the end of time. We\ncannot deny this, but we can deny the consequences deduced from it. A\nman\u2019s importance as a means may be for good or for evil; the remote\neffects of human actions are so uncertain that a wise man will tend to\ndismiss them from his calculations. Broadly speaking, good men have\ngood effects, and bad men bad effects. This, of course, is not an\ninvariable law of nature. A bad man may murder a tyrant because he has\ncommitted crimes which the tyrant intends to punish; the effects of\nhis act may be good, though he and his act are bad. Nevertheless, as a\nbroad general rule, a community of men and women who are intrinsically\nexcellent will have better effects than one composed of people who are\nignorant and malevolent. Apart from such considerations, children\nand young people feel instinctively the difference between those who\ngenuinely wish them well and those who regard them merely as raw\nmaterial for some scheme. Neither character nor intelligence will\ndevelop as well or as freely where the teacher is deficient in love;\nand love of this kind consists essentially in _feeling_ the child as an\nend. We all have this feeling about ourselves: we desire good things\nfor ourselves without first demanding a proof that some great purpose\nwill be furthered by our obtaining them. Every ordinarily affectionate\nparent feels the same sort of thing about his or her children. Parents\nwant their children to grow, to be strong and healthy, to do well at\nschool, and so on, in just the same way in which they want things for\nthemselves; no effort of self-denial and no abstract principle of\njustice is involved in taking trouble about such matters. This parental\ninstinct is not always strictly confined to one\u2019s own children. In\nits diffused form, it must exist in any one who is to be a good\nteacher of little boys and girls. As the pupils grow older, it grows\nless important. But only those who possess it can be trusted to draw\nup schemes of education. Those who regard it as one of the purposes\nof male education to produce men willing to kill and be killed for\nfrivolous reasons are clearly deficient in diffused parental feeling;\nyet they control education in all civilized countries except Denmark\nand China.\n\nBut it is not enough that the educator should love the young; it\nis necessary also that he should have a right conception of human\nexcellence. Cats teach their kittens to catch mice and play with them;\nmilitarists do likewise with the human young. The cat loves the kitten,\nbut not the mouse; the militarist may love his own son, but not the\nsons of his country\u2019s enemies. Even those who love all mankind may err\nthrough a wrong conception of the good life. I shall try, therefore,\nbefore going any further, to give an idea of what I consider excellent\nin men and women, quite without regard to practicality, or to the\neducational methods by which it might be brought into being. Such a\npicture will help us afterwards, when we come to consider the details\nof education; we shall know the direction in which we wish to move.\n\nWe must first make a distinction: some qualities are desirable in\na certain proportion of mankind, others are desirable universally.\nWe want artists, but we also want men of science. We want great\nadministrators, but we also want ploughmen and millers and bakers. The\nqualities which produce a man of great eminence in some one direction\nare often such as might be undesirable if they were universal. Shelley\ndescribes the day\u2019s work of a poet as follows:\n\n  He will watch from dawn to gloom\n  The lake-reflected sun illume\n  The honey-bees in the ivy bloom,\n  Nor heed nor see what things they be.\n\nThese habits are praiseworthy in a poet, but not--shall we say--in a\npostman. We cannot therefore frame our education with a view to giving\nevery one the temperament of a poet. But some characteristics are\nuniversally desirable, and it is these alone that I shall consider at\nthis stage.\n\nI make no distinction whatever between male and female excellence. A\ncertain amount of occupational training is desirable for a woman who\nis to have the care of babies, but that only involves the same sort\nof difference as there is between a farmer and a miller. It is in no\ndegree fundamental, and does not demand consideration at our present\nlevel.\n\nI will take four characteristics which seem to me jointly to form\nthe basis of an ideal character: vitality, courage, sensitiveness,\nand intelligence. I do not suggest that this list is complete, but I\nthink it carries us a good way. Moreover I firmly believe that, by\nproper physical, emotional and intellectual care of the young, these\nqualities could all be made very common. I shall consider each in turn.\n\nVitality is rather a physiological than a mental characteristic; it\nis presumably always present where there is perfect health, but it\ntends to ebb with advancing years, and gradually dwindles to nothing\nin old age. In vigorous children it quickly rises to a maximum before\nthey reach school age, and then tends to be diminished by education.\nWhere it exists, there is pleasure in feeling alive, quite apart\nfrom any specific pleasant circumstance. It heightens pleasures and\ndiminishes pains. It makes it easy to take an interest in whatever\noccurs, and thus promotes objectivity, which is an essential of sanity.\nHuman beings are prone to become absorbed in themselves, unable to\nbe interested in what they see and hear or in anything outside their\nown skins. This is a great misfortune to themselves, since it entails\nat best boredom and at worst melancholia; it is also a fatal barrier\nto usefulness, except in very exceptional cases. Vitality promotes\ninterest in the outside world; it also promotes the power of hard\nwork. Moreover it is a safeguard against envy, because it makes one\u2019s\nown existence pleasant. As envy is one of the great sources of human\nmisery, this is a very important merit in vitality. Many bad qualities\nare of course compatible with vitality--for example, those of a\nhealthy tiger. And many of the best qualities are compatible with its\nabsence: Newton and Locke, for example, had very little. Both these\nmen, however, had irritabilities and envies from which better health\nwould have set them free. Probably the whole of Newton\u2019s controversy\nwith Leibniz, which ruined English mathematics for over a hundred\nyears, would have been avoided if Newton had been robust and able to\nenjoy ordinary pleasures. In spite of its limitations, therefore, I\nreckon vitality among the qualities which it is important that all men\nshould possess.\n\nCourage--the second quality on our list--has several forms, and all\nof them are complex. Absence of fear is one thing, and the power of\ncontrolling fear is another. And absence of fear, in turn, is one thing\nwhen the fear is rational, another when it is irrational. Absence\nof irrational fear is clearly good; so is the power of controlling\nfear. But absence of rational fear is a matter as to which debate is\npossible. However, I shall postpone this question until I have said\nsomething about the other forms of courage.\n\nIrrational fear plays an extraordinarily large part in the instinctive\nemotional life of most people. In its pathological forms, as\npersecution mania, anxiety complex, or what not, it is treated by\nalienists. But in milder forms it is common among those who are\nconsidered sane. It may be a general feeling that there are dangers\nabout, more correctly termed \u201canxiety\u201d, or a specific dread of things\nthat are not dangerous, such as mice or spiders.[3] It used to be\nsupposed that many fears were instinctive, but this is now questioned\nby most investigators. There are apparently a few instinctive\nfears--for instance, of loud noises--but the great majority arise\neither from experience or from suggestion. Fear of the dark, for\nexample, seems to be entirely due to suggestion. Most vertebrates,\nthere is reason to think, do not feel instinctive fear of their natural\nenemies, but catch this emotion from their elders. When human beings\nbring them up by hand, the fears usual among the species are found to\nbe absent. But fear is exceedingly infectious: children catch it from\ntheir elders even when their elders are not aware of having shown it.\nTimidity in mothers or nurses is very quickly imitated by children\nthrough suggestion. Hitherto, men have thought it attractive in women\nto be full of irrational terrors, because it gave men a chance to seem\nprotective without incurring any real danger. But the sons of these\nmen have acquired the terrors from their mothers, and have had to be\nafterwards trained to regain a courage which they need never have lost\nif their fathers had not desired to despise their mothers. The harm\nthat has been done by the subjection of women is incalculable; this\nmatter of fear affords only one incidental illustration.\n\nI am not at the moment discussing the methods by which fear and anxiety\nmay be minimized; that is a matter which I shall consider later. There\nis, however, one question which arises at this stage, namely: can we\nbe content to deal with fear by means of repression, or must we find\nsome more radical cure? Traditionally, aristocracies have been trained\nnot to show fear, while subject nations, classes, and sexes have been\nencouraged to remain cowardly. The test of courage has been crudely\nbehavioristic: a man must not run away in battle; he must be proficient\nin \u201cmanly\u201d sports; he must retain self-command in fires, shipwrecks,\nearthquakes, etc. He must not merely do the right thing, but he must\navoid turning pale, or trembling, or gasping for breath, or giving\nany other easily observed sign of fear. All this I regard as of great\nimportance: I should wish to see courage cultivated in all nations,\nin all classes, and in both sexes. But when the method adopted is\nrepressive, it entails the evils always associated with that practice.\nShame and disgrace have always been potent weapons in producing the\nappearance of courage; but in fact they merely cause a conflict of\nterrors, in which it is hoped that the dread of public condemnation\nwill be the stronger. \u201cAlways speak the truth except when something\nfrightens you\u201d was a maxim taught to me in childhood. I cannot admit\nthe exception. Fear should be overcome not only in action, but in\nfeeling; and not only in conscious feeling, but in the unconscious\nas well. The purely external victory over fear, which satisfies the\naristocratic code, leaves the impulse operative underground, and\nproduces evil twisted reactions which are not recognized as the\noffspring of terror. I am not thinking of \u201cshell-shock\u201d, in which the\nconnection with fear is obvious. I am thinking rather of the whole\nsystem of oppression and cruelty by which dominant castes seek to\nretain their ascendancy. When recently in Shanghai a British officer\nordered a number of unarmed Chinese students to be shot in the back\nwithout warning, he was obviously actuated by terror just as much as\na soldier who runs away in battle. But military aristocracies are not\nsufficiently intelligent to trace such actions to their psychological\nsource; they regard them rather as showing firmness and a proper spirit.\n\nFrom the point of view of psychology and physiology, fear and rage are\nclosely analogous emotions: the man who feels rage is not possessed\nof the highest kind of courage. The cruelty invariably displayed in\nsuppressing negro insurrections, communist rebellions, and other\nthreats to aristocracy, is an offshoot of cowardice, and deserves the\nsame contempt as is bestowed upon the more obvious forms of that vice.\nI believe that it is possible so to educate ordinary men and women that\nthey shall be able to live without fear. Hitherto, only a few heroes\nand saints have achieved such a life; but what they have done others\ncould do if they were shown the way.\n\nFor the kind of courage which does not consist in repression, a number\nof factors must be combined. To begin with the humblest: health and\nvitality are very helpful, though not indispensable. Practice and\nskill in dangerous situations are very desirable. But when we come to\nconsider, not courage in this and that respect, but universal courage,\nsomething more fundamental is wanted. What is wanted is a combination\nof self-respect with an impersonal outlook on life. To begin with\nself-respect: some men live from within, while others are mere mirrors\nof what is felt and said by their neighbours. The latter can never have\ntrue courage: they must have admiration, and are haunted by the fear\nof losing it. The teaching of \u201chumility\u201d, which used to be thought\ndesirable, was the means of producing a perverted form of this same\nvice. \u201cHumility\u201d suppressed self-respect, but not the desire for the\nrespect of others; it merely made nominal self-abasement the means\nof acquiring credit. Thus it produced hypocrisy and falsification of\ninstinct. Children were taught unreasoning submission, and proceeded\nto exact it when they grew up; it was said that only those who have\nlearned to obey know how to command. What I suggest is that no one\nshould learn how to obey, and no one should attempt to command. I do\nnot mean, of course, that there should not be leaders in co-operative\nenterprises; but their authority should be like that of a captain of\na football team, which is suffered voluntarily in order to achieve\na common purpose. Our purposes should be our own, not the result of\nexternal authority; and our purposes should never be forcibly imposed\nupon others. This is what I mean when I say no one should command and\nno one should obey.\n\nThere is one thing more required for the highest courage, and that\nis what I called just now an impersonal outlook on life. The man\nwhose hopes and fears are all centred upon himself can hardly view\ndeath with equanimity, since it extinguishes his whole emotional\nuniverse. Here, again, we are met by a tradition urging the cheap\nand easy way of repression: the saint must learn to renounce Self,\nmust mortify the flesh and forego instinctive joys. This can be done,\nbut its consequences are bad. Having renounced pleasure for himself,\nthe ascetic saint renounces it for others also, which is easier. Envy\npersists underground, and leads him to the view that suffering is\nennobling, and may therefore be legitimately inflicted. Hence arises\na complete inversion of values: what is good is thought bad, and what\nis bad is thought good. The source of all the harm is that the good\nlife has been sought in obedience to a negative imperative, not in\nbroadening and developing natural desires and instincts. There are\ncertain things in human nature which take us beyond Self without\neffort. The commonest of these is love, more particularly parental\nlove, which in some is so generalized as to embrace the whole human\nrace. Another is knowledge. There is no reason to suppose that Galileo\nwas particularly benevolent, yet he lived for an end which was not\ndefeated by his death. Another is art. But in fact every interest\nin something outside a man\u2019s own body makes his life to that degree\nimpersonal. For this reason, paradoxical as it may seem, a man of\nwide and vivid interests finds less difficulty in leaving life than\nis experienced by some miserable hypochondriac whose interests are\nbounded by his own ailments. Thus the perfection of courage is found\nin the man of many interests, who _feels_ his ego to be but a small\npart of the world, not through despising himself, but through valuing\nmuch that is not himself. This can hardly happen except where instinct\nis free and intelligence is active. From the union of the two grows\na comprehensiveness of outlook unknown both to the voluptuary and to\nthe ascetic; and to such an outlook personal death appears a trivial\nmatter. Such courage is positive and instinctive, not negative and\nrepressive. It is courage in this positive sense that I regard as one\nof the major ingredients in a perfect character.\n\nSensitiveness, the third quality in our list, is in a sense a\ncorrective of mere courage. Courageous behaviour is easier for a man\nwho fails to apprehend dangers, but such courage may often be foolish.\nWe cannot regard as satisfactory any way of acting which is dependent\nupon ignorance or forgetfulness: the fullest possible knowledge and\nrealization are an essential part of what is desirable. The cognitive\naspect, however, comes under the head of intelligence; sensitiveness,\nin the sense in which I am using the term, belongs to the emotions. A\npurely theoretical definition would be that a person is emotionally\nsensitive when many stimuli produce emotions in him; but taken thus\nbroadly the quality is not necessarily a good one. If sensitiveness is\nto be good, the emotional reaction must be in some sense _appropriate_:\nmere intensity is not what is needed. The quality I have in mind is\nthat of being affected pleasurably or the reverse by many things, and\nby the right things. What are the right things, I shall try to explain.\nThe first step, which most children take at the age of about five\nmonths, is to pass beyond mere pleasures of sensation, such as food\nand warmth, to the pleasure of social approbation. This pleasure, as\nsoon as it has arisen, develops very rapidly: every child loves praise\nand hates blame. Usually the wish to be thought well of remains one of\nthe dominant motives throughout life. It is certainly very valuable\nas a stimulus to pleasant behaviour, and as a restraint upon impulses\nof greed. If we were wiser in our admirations, it might be much more\nvaluable. But so long as the most admired heroes are those who have\nkilled the greatest number of people, love of admiration cannot alone\nbe adequate to the good life.\n\nThe next stage in the development of a desirable form of sensitiveness\nis sympathy. There is a purely physical sympathy: a very young child\nwill cry because a brother or sister is crying. This, I suppose,\naffords the basis for the further developments. The two enlargements\nthat are needed are: first, to feel sympathy even when the sufferer\nis not an object of special affection; secondly, to feel it when the\nsuffering is merely known to be occurring, not sensibly present. The\nsecond of these enlargements depends mainly upon intelligence. It may\nonly go so far as sympathy with suffering which is portrayed vividly\nand touchingly, as in a good novel; it may, on the other hand, go so\nfar as to enable a man to be moved emotionally by statistics. This\ncapacity for abstract sympathy is as rare as it is important. Almost\neverybody is deeply affected when some one he loves suffers from\ncancer. Most people are moved when they see the sufferings of unknown\npatients in hospitals. Yet when they read that the death-rate from\ncancer is such-and-such, they are as a rule only moved to momentary\npersonal fear lest they or some one dear to them should acquire the\ndisease. The same is true of war: people think it dreadful when their\nson or brother is mutilated, but they do not think it a million\ntimes as dreadful that a million people should be mutilated. A man\nwho is full of kindliness in all personal dealings may derive his\nincome from incitement to war or from the torture of children in\n\u201cbackward\u201d countries. All these familiar phenomena are due to the fact\nthat sympathy is not stirred, in most people, by a merely abstract\nstimulus. A large proportion of the evils in the modern world would\ncease if this could be remedied. Science has greatly increased our\npower of affecting the lives of distant people, without increasing\nour sympathy for them. Suppose you are a shareholder in a company\nwhich manufactures cotton in Shanghai. You may be a busy man, who has\nmerely followed financial advice in making the investment; neither\nShanghai nor cotton interests you, but only your dividends. Yet you\nbecome part of the force leading to massacres of innocent people, and\nyour dividends would disappear if little children were not forced into\nunnatural and dangerous toil. You do not mind, because you have never\nseen the children, and an abstract stimulus cannot move you. That is\nthe fundamental reason why large-scale industrialism is so cruel, and\nwhy oppression of subject races is tolerated. An education producing\nsensitiveness to abstract stimuli would make such things impossible.\n\nCognitive sensitiveness, which should also be included, is practically\nthe same thing as a habit of observation, and this is more naturally\nconsidered in connection with intelligence. \u00c6sthetic sensitiveness\nraises a number of problems which I do not wish to discuss at this\nstage. I will therefore pass on to the last of the four qualities we\nenumerated, namely, intelligence.\n\nOne of the great defects of traditional morality has been the low\nestimate it placed upon intelligence. The Greeks did not err in this\nrespect, but the Church led men to think that nothing matters except\nvirtue, and virtue consists in abstinence from a certain list of\nactions arbitrarily labelled \u201csin\u201d. So long as this attitude persists,\nit is impossible to make men realize that intelligence does more good\nthan an artificial conventional \u201cvirtue\u201d. When I speak of intelligence,\nI include both actual knowledge and receptivity to knowledge. The two\nare, in fact, closely connected. Ignorant adults are unteachable;\non such matters as hygiene or diet, for example, they are totally\nincapable of believing what science has to say. The more a man has\nlearnt, the easier it is for him to learn still more--always assuming\nthat he has not been taught in a spirit of dogmatism. Ignorant people\nhave never been compelled to change their mental habits, and have\nstiffened into an unchangeable attitude. It is not only that they are\ncredulous where they should be sceptical; it is just as much that they\nare incredulous where they should be receptive. No doubt the word\n\u201cintelligence\u201d properly signifies rather an aptitude for acquiring\nknowledge than knowledge already acquired; but I do not think this\naptitude is acquired except by exercise, any more than the aptitude\nof a pianist or an acrobat. It is, of course, possible to impart\ninformation in ways that do not train intelligence; it is not only\npossible, but easy, and frequently done. But I do not believe that it\nis possible to train intelligence without imparting information, or at\nany rate causing knowledge to be acquired. And without intelligence our\ncomplex modern world cannot subsist; still less can it make progress. I\nregard the cultivation of intelligence, therefore, as one of the major\npurposes of education. This might seem a commonplace, but in fact it is\nnot. The desire to instil what are regarded as correct beliefs has made\neducationists too often indifferent to the training of intelligence.\nTo make this clear, it is necessary to define intelligence a little\nmore closely, so as to discover the mental habits which it requires.\nFor this purpose I shall consider only the aptitude for acquiring\nknowledge, not the store of actual knowledge which might legitimately\nbe included in the definition of intelligence.\n\nThe instinctive foundation of the intellectual life is curiosity, which\nis found among animals in its elementary forms. Intelligence demands an\nalert curiosity, but it must be of a certain kind. The sort that leads\nvillage neighbours to try to peer through curtains after dark has no\nvery high value. The wide-spread interest in gossip is inspired, not by\na love of knowledge, but by malice: no one gossips about other people\u2019s\nsecret virtues, but only about their secret vices. Accordingly most\ngossip is untrue, but care is taken not to verify it. Our neighbours\u2019\nsins, like the consolations of religion, are so agreeable that we do\nnot stop to scrutinize the evidence closely. Curiosity properly so\ncalled, on the other hand, is inspired by a genuine love of knowledge.\nYou may see this impulse, in a moderately pure form, at work in a\ncat which has been brought to a strange room, and proceeds to smell\nevery corner and every piece of furniture. You will see it also in\nchildren, who are passionately interested when a drawer or cupboard,\nusually closed, is open for their inspection. Animals, machines,\nthunderstorms, and all forms of manual work, arouse the curiosity of\nchildren, whose thirst for knowledge puts the most intelligent adult\nto shame. This impulse grows weaker with advancing years, until at\nlast what is unfamiliar inspires only disgust, with no desire for a\ncloser acquaintance. This is the stage at which people announce that\nthe country is going to the dogs, and that \u201cthings are not what they\nwere in my young days\u201d. The thing which is not the same as it was in\nthat far-off time is the speaker\u2019s curiosity. And with the death of\ncuriosity we may reckon that active intelligence, also, has died.\n\nBut although curiosity lessens in intensity and in extent after\nchildhood, it may for a long time improve in quality. Curiosity\nabout general propositions shows a higher level of intelligence than\ncuriosity about particular facts; broadly speaking, the higher the\norder of generality the greater is the intelligence involved. (This\nrule, however, must not be taken too strictly.) Curiosity dissociated\nfrom personal advantage shows a higher development than curiosity\nconnected (say) with a chance of food. The cat that sniffs in a new\nroom is not a wholly disinterested scientific inquirer, but probably\nalso wants to find out whether there are mice about. Perhaps it is not\nquite correct to say that curiosity is best when it is disinterested,\nbut rather that it is best when the connection with other interests is\nnot direct and obvious, but discoverable only by means of a certain\ndegree of intelligence. This point, however, it is not necessary for us\nto decide.\n\nIf curiosity is to be fruitful, it must be associated with a certain\ntechnique for the acquisition of knowledge. There must be habits of\nobservation, belief in the possibility of knowledge, patience and\nindustry. These things will develop of themselves, given the original\nfund of curiosity and the proper intellectual education. But since our\nintellectual life is only a part of our activity, and since curiosity\nis perpetually coming into conflict with other passions, there is need\nof certain intellectual virtues, such as open-mindedness. We become\nimpervious to new truth both from habit and from desire: we find it\nhard to disbelieve what we have emphatically believed for a number of\nyears, and also what ministers to self-esteem or any other fundamental\npassion. Open-mindedness should therefore be one of the qualities that\neducation aims at producing. At present, this is only done to a very\nlimited extent, as is illustrated by the following paragraph from \u201cThe\nDaily Herald\u201d, July 31, 1925:\n\n  A special committee, appointed to inquire into the allegations of\n  the subversion of children\u2019s minds in Bootle schools by their school\n  teachers, has placed its findings before the Bootle Borough Council.\n  The Committee was of opinion that the allegations were substantiated,\n  but the Council deleted the word \u201csubstantiated\u201d, and stated that\n  \u201cthe allegations gave cause for reasonable inquiry\u201d. A recommendation\n  made by the Committee, and adopted by the Council, was that in future\n  appointments of teachers, they shall undertake to train the scholars\n  in habits of reverence towards God and religion, and of respect for\n  the civil and religious institutions of the country.\n\nThus whatever may happen elsewhere, there is to be no open-mindedness\nin Bootle. It is hoped that the Borough Council will shortly send a\ndeputation to Dayton, Tennessee, to obtain further light upon the\nbest methods of carrying out their programme. But perhaps that is\nunnecessary. From the wording of the resolution, it would seem as if\nBootle needed no instruction in obscurantism.\n\nCourage is essential to intellectual probity, as well as to physical\nheroism. The real world is more unknown than we like to think; from the\nfirst day of life we practise precarious inductions, and confound our\nmental habits with laws of external nature. All sorts of intellectual\nsystems--Christianity, Socialism, Patriotism, etc.--are ready, like\norphan asylums, to give safety in return for servitude. A free mental\nlife cannot be as warm and comfortable and sociable as a life enveloped\nin a creed: only a creed can give the feeling of a cosy fireside while\nthe winter storms are raging without.\n\nThis brings us to a somewhat difficult question: to what extent\nshould the good life be emancipated from the herd? I hesitate to use\nthe phrase \u201cherd instinct\u201d, because there are controversies as to\nits correctness. But, however interpreted, the phenomena which it\ndescribes are familiar. We like to stand well with those whom we feel\nto be the group with which we wish to co-operate--our family, our\nneighbours, our colleagues, our political party, or our nation. This is\nnatural, because we cannot obtain any of the pleasures of life without\nco-operation. Moreover, emotions are infectious, especially when they\nare felt by many people at once. Very few people can be present at\nan excited meeting without getting excited: if they are opponents,\ntheir opposition becomes excited. And to most people such opposition\nis only possible if they can derive support from the thought of a\ndifferent crowd in which they will win approbation. That is why the\nCommunion of Saints has afforded such comfort to the persecuted. Are\nwe to acquiesce in this desire for co-operation with a crowd, or shall\nour education try to weaken it? There are arguments on both sides, and\nthe right answer must consist in finding a just proportion, not in a\nwhole-hearted decision for either party.\n\nI think myself that the desire to please and to co-operate should be\nstrong and normal, but should be capable of being overcome by other\ndesires on certain important occasions. The desirability of a wish to\nplease has already been considered in connection with sensitiveness.\nWithout it, we should all be boors, and all social groups, from the\nfamily upwards, would be impossible. Education of young children would\nbe very difficult if they did not desire the good opinion of their\nparents. The contagious character of emotions also has its uses,\nwhen the contagion is from a wiser person to a more foolish one. But\nin the case of panic fear and panic rage it is of course the very\nreverse of useful. Thus the question of emotional receptivity is by\nno means simple. Even in purely intellectual matters, the issue is\nnot clear. The great discoverers have had to withstand the herd, and\nincur hostility by their independence. But the average man\u2019s opinions\nare much less foolish than they would be if he thought for himself: in\nscience, at least, his respect for authority is on the whole beneficial.\n\nI think that in the life of a man whose circumstances and talents are\nnot very exceptional there should be a large sphere where what is\nvaguely termed \u201cherd instinct\u201d dominates, and a small sphere into which\nit does not penetrate. The small sphere should contain the region of\nhis special competence. We think ill of a man who cannot admire a woman\nunless everybody else also admires her: we think that, in the choice\nof a wife, a man should be guided by his own independent feelings, not\nby a reflection of the feelings of his society. It is no matter if his\njudgments of people in general agree with those of his neighbours, but\nwhen he falls in love he ought to be guided by his own independent\nfeelings. Much the same thing applies in other directions. A farmer\nshould follow his own judgment as to the capacities of the fields\nwhich he cultivates himself, though his judgment should be formed\nafter acquiring a knowledge of scientific agriculture. An economist\nshould form an independent judgment on currency questions, but an\nordinary mortal had better follow authority. Wherever there is special\ncompetence, there should be independence. But a man should not make\nhimself into a kind of hedgehog, all bristles to keep the world at a\ndistance. The bulk of our ordinary activities must be co-operative,\nand co-operation must have an instinctive basis. Nevertheless, we\nshould all learn to be able to think for ourselves about matters that\nare particularly well known to us, and we ought all to have acquired\nthe courage to proclaim unpopular opinions when we believe them to be\nimportant. The application of these broad principles in special cases\nmay, of course, be difficult. But it will be less difficult than it\nis at present in a world where men commonly have the virtues we have\nbeen considering in this chapter. The persecuted saint, for instance,\nwould not exist in such a world. The good man would have no occasion\nto bristle and become self-conscious; his goodness would result\nfrom following his impulses, and would be combined with instinctive\nhappiness. His neighbours would not hate him, because they would not\nfear him: the hatred of pioneers is due to the terror they inspire, and\nthis terror would not exist among men who had acquired courage. Only a\nman dominated by fear would join the Ku Klux Klan or the Fascisti. In\na world of brave men, such persecuting organizations could not exist,\nand the good life would involve far less resistance to instinct than\nit does at present. The good world can only be created and sustained\nby fearless men, but the more they succeed in their task the fewer\noccasions there will be for the exercise of their courage.\n\nA community of men and women possessing vitality, courage,\nsensitiveness, and intelligence, in the highest degree that education\ncan produce, would be very different from anything that has hitherto\nexisted. Very few people would be unhappy. The main causes of\nunhappiness at present are: ill-health, poverty, and an unsatisfactory\nsex-life. All of these would become very rare. Good health could\nbe almost universal, and even old age could be postponed. Poverty,\nsince the industrial revolution, is only due to collective stupidity.\nSensitiveness would make people wish to abolish it, intelligence would\nshow them the way, and courage would lead them to adopt it. (A timid\nperson would rather remain miserable than do anything unusual.) Most\npeople\u2019s sex-life, at present, is more or less unsatisfactory. This is\npartly due to bad education, partly to persecution by the authorities\nand Mrs. Grundy. A generation of women brought up without irrational\nsex fears would soon make an end of this. Fear has been thought the\nonly way to make women \u201cvirtuous\u201d, and they have been deliberately\ntaught to be cowards, both physically and mentally. Women in whom love\nis cramped encourage brutality and hypocrisy in their husbands, and\ndistort the instincts of their children. One generation of fearless\nwomen could transform the world, by bringing into it a generation of\nfearless children, not contorted into unnatural shapes, but straight\nand candid, generous, affectionate, and free. Their ardour would\nsweep away the cruelty and pain which we endure because we are lazy,\ncowardly, hard-hearted and stupid. It is education that gives us these\nbad qualities, and education that must give us the opposite virtues.\nEducation is the key to the new world.\n\nBut it is time to have done with generalities and come to the concrete\ndetail in which our ideals are to be embodied.\n\n\n\n\nPART II\n\nEDUCATION OF CHARACTER\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE FIRST YEAR\n\n\nThe first year of life was formerly regarded as lying outside the\nsphere of education. At least until the infant could speak, if not\nlonger, it was left to the entirely unchecked care of mothers and\nnurses, who were supposed to know by instinct what was good for the\nchild. As a matter of fact, they did not know. An enormous proportion\nof children died during the first year, and of the remainder many were\nalready ruined in health. By bad handling, the foundations had been\nlaid for disastrous habits of mind. All this has only recently been\nrealized. The invasion of the nursery by science is often resented,\nbecause it disturbs the sentimental picture of mother and child. But\nsentimentality and love cannot coexist; the parent who loves his or her\nchild will wish it to live, even if it should be necessary to employ\nintelligence for the purpose. Accordingly we find this sentimentality\nstrongest in childless people and in people who, like Rousseau, are\nwilling to leave their children to the Foundling Hospital. Most\neducated parents are eager to know what science has to say, and\nuneducated parents, also, learn from maternity centres. The result is\nshown in the remarkable diminution of infant mortality. There is reason\nto think that, with adequate care and skill, very few children would\ndie in infancy. Not only would few die, but the survivors would be\nhealthier in mind and body.\n\nQuestions of physical health, strictly speaking, lie outside the scope\nof this book, and must be left to medical practitioners. I shall touch\non them only where they have psychological importance. But physical and\nmental are scarcely distinguishable in the first year of life. Moreover\nthe educator in later years may find himself handicapped by purely\nphysiological mistakes in handling the infant. We cannot therefore\naltogether avoid trespassing upon ground which does not of right belong\nto us.\n\nThe new-born infant has reflexes and instincts, but no habits. Whatever\nhabits it may have acquired in the womb are useless in its new\nsituation: even breathing sometimes has to be taught, and some children\ndie because they do not learn the lesson quickly enough. There is one\nwell-developed instinct, the instinct of sucking; when the child is\nengaged in this occupation, it feels at home with its new environment.\nBut the rest of its waking life is passed in a vague bewilderment,\nfrom which relief is found by sleeping most of the twenty-four hours.\nAt the end of a fortnight, all this is changed. The child has acquired\nexpectations from regularly recurring experiences. It is already a\nconservative--probably a more complete conservative than at any later\ntime. Any novelty is met with resentment. If it could speak, it would\nsay: \u201cDo you suppose I am going to change the habits of a lifetime\nat my time of life?\u201d The rapidity with which infants acquire habits\nis amazing. Every bad habit acquired is a barrier to better habits\nlater; that is why the first formation of habits in early infancy is\nso important. If the first habits are good, endless trouble is saved\nlater. Moreover habits acquired very early feel, in later life, just\nlike instincts; they have the same profound grip. New contrary habits\nacquired afterwards cannot have the same force; for this reason, also,\nthe first habits should be a matter of grave concern.\n\nTwo considerations come in when we are considering habit-formation in\ninfancy. The first and paramount consideration is health; the second\nis character. We want the child to become the sort of person that will\nbe liked and will be able to cope with life successfully. Fortunately,\nhealth and character point in the same direction: what is good for one\nis good also for the other. It is character that specially concerns\nus in this book; but health requires the same practices. Thus we are\nnot faced with the difficult alternative of a healthy scoundrel or a\ndiseased saint.\n\nEvery educated mother nowadays knows such simple facts as the\nimportance of feeding the infant at regular intervals, not whenever it\ncries. This practice has arisen because it is better for the child\u2019s\ndigestion, which is an entirely sufficient reason. But it is also\ndesirable from the point of view of moral education. Infants are far\nmore cunning than grown-up people are apt to suppose; if they find that\ncrying produces agreeable results, they will cry. When, in later life,\na habit of complaining causes them to be disliked instead of petted,\nthey feel surprised and resentful, and the world seems to them cold and\nunsympathetic. If, however, they grow up into charming women, they will\nstill be petted when they are querulous, and the bad training begun\nin childhood will be intensified. The same thing is true of rich men.\nUnless the right methods are adopted in infancy, people in later life\nwill be either discontented or grasping, according to the degree of\ntheir power. The right moment to begin the requisite moral training is\nthe moment of birth, because then it can be begun without disappointing\nexpectations. At any later time it will have to fight against contrary\nhabits, and will therefore be met by resentful indignation.\n\nIn dealing with the infant, therefore, there is need of a delicate\nbalance between neglect and indulgence. Everything necessary for health\nmust be done. The child must be picked up when it suffers from wind, it\nmust be kept dry and warm. But if it cries when there is no adequate\nphysical cause, it must be left to cry; if not, it will quickly develop\ninto a tyrant. When it is attended to, there should not be too much\nfuss: what is necessary must be done, but without excessive expressions\nof sympathy. At no period of its life must it be regarded as an\nagreeable pet, somewhat more interesting than a lap-dog. It must from\nthe very first be viewed seriously, as a potential adult. Habits which\nwould be intolerable in an adult may be quite pleasant in a child.\nOf course the child cannot actually have the habits of an adult, but\nwe should avoid everything that places an obstacle in the way of the\nacquisition of these habits. Above all, we should not give the child\na sense of self-importance which later experience will mortify, and\nwhich, in any case, is not in accordance with the facts.\n\nThe difficulty in the education of young infants is largely the\ndelicate balance required in the parent. Constant watchfulness and\nmuch labour are needed to avoid injury to health; these qualities will\nhardly exist in the necessary degree except where there is strong\nparental affection. But where this exists, it is very likely not to be\nwise. To the devoted parent, the child is immensely important. Unless\ncare is taken, the child feels this, and judges himself as important as\nhis parents feel him. In later life, his social environment will not\nregard him so fondly, and habits which assume that he is the centre of\nother people\u2019s universe will lead to disappointment. It is therefore\nnecessary, not only in the first year, but afterwards also, that the\nparents should be breezy and cheerful and rather matter-of-fact where\nthe child\u2019s possible ailments are concerned. In old days, infants were\nat once restricted and coddled: their limbs were not free, they were\ntoo warmly dressed, they were hampered in their spontaneous activities,\nbut they were petted, sung to, rocked and dandled. This was ideally\nwrong, since it turned them into helpless pampered parasites.[4] The\nright rule is: encourage spontaneous activities, but discourage demands\nupon others. Do not let the child see how much you do for it, or how\nmuch trouble you take. Let it, wherever possible, taste the joy of a\nsuccess achieved by its own efforts, not extracted by tyrannizing over\nthe grown-ups. Our aim, in modern education, is to reduce external\ndiscipline to a minimum; but this requires an internal self-discipline\nwhich is much more easily acquired in the first year of life than at\nany other time. For example: when you want a child to sleep, do not\nwheel it up and down, or take it in your arms, or even stay where\nit can see you. If you do this once, the child will demand that you\nshould do it next time; in an incredibly short space of time it becomes\na terrific business to get the child to sleep. Make it warm and dry\nand comfortable, put it down firmly, and after a few quiet remarks\nleave it to itself. It may cry for a few minutes, but unless it is ill\nit will soon stop. If you then go to look, you will find that it is\nfast asleep. And it will sleep far more with this treatment than with\npetting and indulgence.\n\nThe new-born infant, as we observed before, has no habits, but only\nreflexes and instincts. It follows that his world is not composed of\n\u201cobjects\u201d. Recurrent experiences are necessary for recognition, and\nrecognition is necessary before the conception of an \u201cobject\u201d can\narise. The feel of the cot, the feel and smell of the mother\u2019s breast\n(or the bottle), and the mother\u2019s or nurse\u2019s voice will soon come to\nbe familiar. The visual appearance of the mother or the cot comes\nsomewhat later, because the new-born child does not know how to focus\nso as to see shapes distinctly. It is only gradually, through the\nformation of habits by association, that touch and sight and smell and\nhearing come together and coalesce in the common-sense notion of an\nobject, of which one manifestation leads to the expectation of another.\nEven then, for a time, there is hardly any feeling of the difference\nbetween persons and things; a baby which is partly breast-fed and\npartly bottle-fed will, for a time, have similar feelings towards\nmother and bottle. During all this time, education must be by\npurely physical means. Its pleasures are physical--chiefly food and\nwarmth--and its pains also are physical. Habits of behaviour arise\nthrough seeking what is associated with pleasure and avoiding what is\nassociated with pain. A child\u2019s crying is partly a reflex connected\nwith pain, partly an act performed in the pursuit of pleasure. At\nfirst, of course, it is only the former. But since any real pain\nthat the child may be suffering must, if possible, be removed, it is\ninevitable that crying should come to be associated with pleasant\nconsequences. The child therefore soon begins to cry because it\ndesires a pleasure, not because it feels a physical pain; this is one\nof its first triumphs of intelligence. But try as it may, it cannot\ngive quite the same cry as when it is in actual pain. The attentive\near of the mother knows the difference, and if she is wise she will\nignore the cry that is not an expression of physical pain. It is easy\nand agreeable to amuse an infant by dandling it or singing to it.\nBut it learns with amazing rapidity to demand more and more of such\namusements, which soon interfere with necessary sleep--and sleep ought\nto occupy almost all the day except meal-times. Some of these precepts\nmay seem harsh, but experience shows that they make for the child\u2019s\nhealth and happiness.\n\nBut while the amusements which grown-up people provide should be kept\nwithin certain limits, those which the infant can enjoy for itself\nshould be encouraged to the utmost. From the first, it should have\nopportunities to kick and practise its muscles. How our ancestors can\nhave so long persisted in the practice of swaddling-clothes is almost\ninconceivable, it shows that even parental affection has difficulty\nin overcoming laziness, since the infant whose limbs are free needs\nmore attention. As soon as the child can focus, it finds pleasure in\nwatching moving objects, especially things that wave in the wind. But\nthe number of possible amusements is small until the child has learned\nto grasp objects that it sees. Then, immediately, there is an enormous\naccession of pleasure. For some time, the exercise of grasping is\nenough to secure the happiness of many waking hours. Pleasure in a\nrattle also comes at this stage. Slightly earlier is the conquest of\nthe toes and fingers. At first, the movement of the toes is purely\nreflex; then the baby discovers that they can be moved at will. This\ngives all the pleasure of an imperialist conquering a foreign country:\nthe toes cease to be alien bodies and become incorporated in the\nego. From this time onward, the child should be able to find many\namusements, provided suitable objects are within his reach. And a\nchild\u2019s amusements, for the most part, will be just what its education\nrequires--provided, of course that it is not allowed to tumble, or to\nswallow pins, or otherwise injure itself.\n\nThe first three months of life are, on the whole, a somewhat dreary\ntime for the infant, except during the moments when it is enjoying\nits meals. When it is comfortable, it sleeps; when it is awake, there\nis usually some discomfort. The happiness of a human being depends\nupon mental capacities, but these can find little outlet in an infant\nunder three months, for lack of experience and muscular control. Young\nanimals enjoy life much sooner, because they depend more upon instinct\nand less upon experience; but the things an infant can do by instinct\nare too few to provide more than a minimum of pleasure and interest.\nOn the whole, the first three months involve a good deal of boredom.\nBut the boredom is necessary if there is to be enough sleep; if much is\ndone to amuse the child, it will not sleep enough.\n\nAt about the age of two to three months, the child learns to smile, and\nto have feelings about persons which are different from its feelings\nabout things. At this age, a social relation between mother and child\nbegins to be possible: the child can and does show pleasure at the\nsight of the mother, and develops responses which are not merely\nanimal. Very soon a desire for praise and approval grows up; in my\nown boy, it was first shown unmistakably at the age of five months,\nwhen he succeeded, after many attempts, in lifting a somewhat heavy\nbell off the table, and ringing it while he looked round at everybody\nwith a proud smile. From this moment, the educator has a new weapon:\npraise and blame. This weapon is extraordinarily powerful throughout\nchildhood, but it must be used with great caution. There should not be\nany blame at all during the first year, and afterwards it should be\nused very sparingly. Praise is less harmful. But it should not be given\nso easily as to lose its value, nor should it be used to overstimulate\na child. No tolerable parent could refrain from praising a child\nwhen it first walks and when it first says an intelligible word. And\ngenerally, when a child has mastered a difficulty after persistent\nefforts, praise is a proper reward. Moreover it is well to let the\nchild feel that you sympathize with his desire to learn.\n\nBut on the whole an infant\u2019s desire to learn is so strong that parents\nneed only provide opportunity. Give the child a chance to develop,\nand his own efforts will do the rest. It is not necessary to teach a\nchild to crawl, or to walk, or to learn any of the other elements of\nmuscular control. Of course we teach a child to talk by talking to it,\nbut I doubt whether any purpose is served by deliberate attempts to\nteach words. Children learn at their own pace, and it is a mistake to\ntry to force them. The great incentive to effort, all through life,\nis experience of success after initial difficulties. The difficulties\nmust not be so great as to cause discouragement, or so small as not to\nstimulate effort. From birth to death, this is a fundamental principle.\nIt is by what we do ourselves that we learn. What grown-up people\ncan do is to perform some simple action that the child would like to\nperform, such as rattling a rattle, and then let the child find out how\nto do it. What others do is merely a stimulus to ambition; it is never\nin itself an education.\n\nRegularity and routine are of the utmost importance in early\nchildhood, and most of all in the first year of life. In regard to\nsleep, food, and evacuation, regular habits should be formed from the\nstart. Moreover familiarity of surroundings is very important mentally.\nIt teaches recognition, it avoids overstrain, and it produces a feeling\nof safety. I have sometimes thought that belief in the uniformity\nof nature, which is said to be a postulate of science, is entirely\nderived from the wish for safety. We can cope with the expected, but\nif the laws of nature were suddenly changed we should perish. The\ninfant, because of its weakness, has need of reassurance, and it will\nbe happier if everything that happens seems to happen according to\ninvariable laws, so as to be predictable. In later childhood, the\nlove of adventure develops, but in the first year of life everything\nunusual tends to be alarming. Do not let the child feel fear if you\ncan possibly help it. If it is ill, and you are anxious, hide your\nanxiety very carefully, lest it should pass to the child by suggestion.\nAvoid everything that might produce excitement. And do not minister\nto the child\u2019s self-importance by letting it see that you mind if it\ndoes not sleep or eat or evacuate as it should. This applies not only\nto the first year of life, but still more to the subsequent years.\nNever let the child think that a necessary normal action, such as\neating which ought to be a pleasure, is something that you desire,\nand that you want it to do so to please you. If you do, the child soon\nperceives that it has acquired a new source of power, and expects to\nbe coaxed into actions which it ought to perform spontaneously. Do not\nimagine that the child has not the intelligence for such behaviour.\nIts powers are small and its knowledge is limited, but it has just as\nmuch intelligence as a grown-up person where these limitations do not\noperate. It learns more in the first twelve months than it will ever\nlearn again in the same space of time, and this would be impossible if\nit had not a very active intelligence.\n\nTo sum up: Treat even the youngest baby with respect, as a person who\nwill have to take his place in the world. Do not sacrifice his future\nto your present convenience, or to your pleasure in making much of him:\nthe one is as harmful as the other. Here, as elsewhere, a combination\nof love and knowledge is necessary if the right way is to be followed.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nFEAR\n\n\nIn the following chapters, I propose to deal with various aspects\nof moral education, especially in the years from the second to the\nsixth. By the time the child is six years old, moral education ought\nto be nearly complete; that is to say, the further virtues which\nwill be required in later years ought to be developed by the boy or\ngirl spontaneously, as a result of good habits already existing and\nambitions already stimulated. It is only where early moral training has\nbeen neglected or badly given that much will be needed at later ages.\n\nI suppose that the child has reached the age of twelve months healthy\nand happy, with the foundations of a disciplined character already well\nlaid by the methods considered in the preceding chapter. There will,\nof course, be some children whose health is bad, even if parents take\nall the precautions known to science at present. But we may hope that\ntheir number will be enormously diminished as time goes on. They ought,\neven now, to be so few as to be statistically unimportant, if existing\nknowledge were adequately applied. I do not propose to consider what\nought to be done with children whose early training has been bad.\nThis is a problem for the schoolmaster, not for the parent; and it is\nespecially to the parent that this book is addressed.\n\nThe second year of life should be one of great happiness. Walking and\ntalking are new accomplishments, bringing a sense of freedom and power.\nEvery day the child improves in both.[5] Independent play becomes\npossible, and the child has a more vivid sense of \u201cseeing the world\u201d\nthan a man can derive from the most extensive globe-trotting. Birds\nand flowers, rivers and the sea, motor-cars and trains and steamers\nall bring delight and passionate interest. Curiosity is boundless:\n\u201cwant to see\u201d is one of the commonest phrases at this age. Running\nfreely in a garden or a field or on the seashore produces an ecstasy of\nemancipation after the confinement of crib and baby-carriage. Digestion\nis usually stronger than in the first year, food is more varied, and\nmastication is a new joy. For all these reasons, if the child is well\ncared for and healthy, life is a delicious adventure.\n\nBut with the greater independence of walking and running there is\napt to come also a new timidity. The new-born infant can easily be\nfrightened; Dr. J. B. and Mrs. Watson found that the things which alarm\nit most are loud noises and the sensation of being dropped.[6] It\nis, however, so completely protected that it has little occasion for\nthe rational exercise of fear; even in real dangers it is helpless,\nso that fear would not be of any use to it. During the second and\nthird year, new fears develop. It is a moot point how far this is\ndue to suggestion, and how far it is instinctive. The fact that the\nfears do not exist during the first year is not conclusive against\ntheir instinctive character, since an instinct may ripen at any\nage. Not even the most extreme Freudian would maintain that the sex\ninstinct is mature at birth. Obviously children who can run about by\nthemselves have more need of fear than infants that cannot walk; it\nwould therefore not be surprising if the instinct of fear arose with\nthe need. The question is of considerable educational importance. If\nall fears arise from suggestion, they can be prevented by the simple\nexpedient of not showing fear or aversion before a child. If, on the\nother hand, some of them are instinctive, more elaborate methods will\nbe required.\n\nDr. Chalmers Mitchell, in his book \u201cThe Childhood of Animals\u201d, gives\na large number of observations and experiments to show that there is\nusually no inherited instinct of fear in young animals.[7] Except\nmonkeys and a few birds, they view the age-long enemies of their\nspecies, such as snakes, without the slightest alarm, unless their\nparents have taught them to feel fear of these animals. Children well\nunder a year old seem never to be afraid of animals. Dr. Watson taught\none such child to be afraid of rats by repeatedly sounding a gong\nbehind its head at the moment when he showed it a rat. The noise was\nterrifying, and the rat came to be so by association. But instinctive\nfear of animals seems quite unknown in the early months. Fear of the\ndark, also, seems never to occur in children who have not been exposed\nto the suggestion that the dark is terrifying. There are certainly\nvery strong grounds for the view that most of the fears which we used\nto regard as instinctive are acquired, and would not arise if grown-up\npeople did not create them.\n\nIn order to get fresh light on this subject, I have observed my own\nchildren carefully; but as I could not always know what nurses and\nmaids might have said to them, the interpretation of the facts was\noften doubtful. So far as I could judge, they bore out Dr. Watson\u2019s\nviews as to fear in the first year of life. In the second year, they\nshowed no fear of animals, except that one of them, for a time, was\nafraid of horses. This, however, was apparently due to the fact that\na horse had suddenly galloped past her with a very loud noise. She is\nstill in her second year, and therefore for later observation I am\ndependent on the boy. Near the end of his second year, he had a new\nnurse who was generally timid and especially afraid of the dark. He\nquickly acquired her terrors (of which we were ignorant at first);\nhe fled from dogs and cats, cowered in abject fear before a dark\ncupboard, wanted lights in every part of the room after dark, and was\neven afraid of his little sister the first time he saw her, thinking,\napparently, that she was a strange animal of some unknown species.[8]\nAll these fears might have been acquired from the timid nurse; in\nfact they gradually faded away after she was gone. There were other\nfears, however, which could not be accounted for in the same way,\nsince they began before the nurse came, and were directed to objects\nwhich no grown-up person would find alarming. Chief of these was a\nfear of everything that moved in a surprising way, notably shadows and\nmechanical toys. After making this observation, I learned that fears\nof this sort are normal in childhood, and that there are strong reasons\nfor regarding them as instinctive. The matter is discussed by William\nStern in his \u201cPsychology of Early Childhood\u201d, p. 494 ff, under the\nheading \u201cFear of the Mysterious\u201d. What he says is as follows:\n\n  The special significance of this form of fear, particularly in early\n  childhood, has escaped the notice of the older school of child\n  psychologists; it has lately been established by Groos and by us.\n  \u201cFear of the unaccustomed seems to be more a part of primitive nature\n  than fear of a known danger\u201d (Groos, p. 284). If the child meets\n  with anything that does not fit in with the familiar course of his\n  perception, three things are possible. Either the impression is so\n  alien that it is simply rejected as a foreign body, and consciousness\n  takes no notice of it. Or the interruption of the usual course of\n  perception is pronounced enough to attract attention but not so\n  violent as to effect disturbance; it is rather surprise, desire\n  for knowledge, the beginning of all thought, judgment, enquiry.\n  Or, lastly, the new suddenly breaks in upon the old with violent\n  intensity, throws familiar ideas into unexpected confusion without\n  a possibility of an immediate practical adjustment; then follows\n  a shock with a strong affective-tone of displeasure, the fear of\n  the mysterious (uncanny). Groos now has pointed out with keen\n  insight that this fear of the uncanny is also distinctly founded on\n  instinctive fear; it corresponds to a biological necessity which\n  works from one generation to the next.\n\nStern gives many instances, among others fear of a suddenly opened\numbrella and \u201cthe frequent fear of mechanical toys\u201d. The former, by\nthe way, is very strong in horses and cows: a large herd can be driven\ninto headlong flight by it, as I have verified. My own boy\u2019s terrors,\nunder this head, were just such as Stern describes. The shadows that\nfrightened him were vague quickly-moving shadows thrown into a room\nby unseen objects (such as omnibuses) passing in the street. I cured\nhim by making shadows on the wall and the floor with my fingers, and\ngetting him to imitate me; before long, he felt that he understood\nshadows and began to enjoy them. The same principle applied to\nmechanical toys: when he had seen the mechanism he was no longer\nfrightened. But when the mechanism was invisible the process was slow.\nSome one gave him a cushion which emitted a long melancholy whine after\nbeing sat upon or pressed. This alarmed him for a long time. In no case\ndid we entirely remove the terrifying object: we put it at a distance,\nwhere it was only slightly alarming; we produced gradual familiarity;\nand we persisted till the fear completely ceased. Generally the same\nmysterious quality which caused fear at first produced delight when\nthe fear had been overcome. I think an irrational fear should never be\nsimply let alone, but should be gradually overcome by familiarity with\nits fainter forms.\n\nWe adopted an exactly opposite process--perhaps wrongly--in the case\nof two rational fears which were wholly absent. I live half the year\non a rocky coast where there are many precipices. The boy had no sense\nwhatever of the danger of heights, and would have run straight over\na cliff into the sea if we had let him. One day when we were sitting\non a steep slope that ended in a sheer drop of a hundred feet, we\nexplained to him quietly, as a merely scientific fact, that if he went\nover the edge he would fall and break like a plate. (He had lately seen\na plate broken into many pieces by being dropped on the floor.) He\nsat still for some time, saying to himself \u201cfall\u201d, \u201cbreak\u201d, and then\nasked to be taken further from the edge. This was at the age of about\ntwo and a half. Since then he has had just enough fear of heights to\nmake him safe while we keep an eye on him. But he would still be very\nrash if left to himself. He now (three and nine months) jumps from\nheights of six feet without hesitation, and would jump twenty feet\nif we would let him. Thus the instruction in apprehension certainly\ndid not produce excessive results. I attribute this to the fact that\nit was instruction, not suggestion; neither of us was feeling fear\nwhen the instruction was given. I regard this as very important in\neducation. Rational apprehension of dangers is necessary; fear is not.\nA child cannot apprehend dangers without _some_ element of fear, but\nthis element is very much diminished when it is not present in the\ninstructor. A grown-up person in charge of a child should never feel\nfear. That is one reason why courage should be cultivated in women just\nas much as in men.\n\nThe second illustration was less deliberate. One day when I was walking\nwith the boy (at the age of three years and four months) we found an\nadder on the path. He had seen pictures of snakes, but had never before\nseen a real snake. He did not know that snakes bite. He was delighted\nwith the adder, and when it glided away he ran after it. As I knew he\ncould not catch it, I did not check him, and did not tell him that\nsnakes are dangerous. His nurse, however, from that time on, prevented\nhim from running in long grass, on the ground that there might be\nsnakes. A slight fear grew up in him as a result, but not more than we\nfelt to be desirable.\n\nThe most difficult fear to overcome, so far, has been fear of the sea.\nOur first attempt to take the boy into the sea was at the age of two\nand a half. At first, it was quite impossible. He disliked the cold\nof the water, he was frightened by the noise of the waves, and they\nseemed to him to be always coming, never going. If the waves were big,\nhe would not even go near to the sea. This was a period of general\ntimidity; animals, odd noises, and various other things, caused alarm.\nWe dealt with fear of the sea piecemeal. We put the boy into shallow\npools away from the sea, until the mere cold had ceased to be a shock;\nat the end of the four warm months, he enjoyed paddling in shallow\nwater at a distance from waves, but still cried if we put him into deep\npools where the water came up to his waist. We accustomed him to the\nnoise of the waves by letting him play for an hour at a time just out\nof sight of them; then we took him to where he could see them, and made\nhim notice that after coming in they go out again. All this, combined\nwith the example of his parents and other children, only brought him\nto the point where he could be _near_ the waves without fear. I am\nconvinced that the fear was instinctive; I am fairly certain there had\nbeen no suggestion to cause it. The following summer, at the age of\nthree and a half, we took the matter up again. There was still a terror\nof going actually into the waves. After some unsuccessful coaxing,\ncombined with the spectacle of everybody else bathing, we adopted\nold-fashioned methods. When he showed cowardice, we made him feel that\nwe were ashamed of him; when he showed courage, we praised him warmly.\nEvery day for about a fortnight, we plunged him up to the neck in the\nsea, in spite of his struggles and cries.[9] Every day they grew less;\nbefore they ceased, he began to ask to be put in. At the end of a\nfortnight, the desired result had been achieved: he no longer feared\nthe sea. From that moment, we left him completely free, and he bathed\nof his own accord whenever the weather was suitable--obviously with the\ngreatest enjoyment. Fear had not ceased altogether, but had been partly\nrepressed by pride. Familiarity, however, made the fear grow rapidly\nless, and it has now ceased altogether. His sister, now twenty months\nold, has never shown any fear of the sea, and runs straight in without\nthe slightest hesitation.\n\nI have related this matter in some detail, because, to a certain\nextent, it goes against modern theories for which I have much respect.\nThe use of force in education should be very rare. But for the conquest\nof fear it is, I think, sometimes salutary. Where a fear is irrational\nand strong, the child, left to himself, will never have the experiences\nwhich show that there is no ground for apprehension. When a situation\nhas been experienced repeatedly without harm, familiarity kills fear.\nIt would very likely be useless to give the dreaded experience _once_;\nit must be given often enough to become in no degree surprising. If the\nnecessary experience can be secured without force, so much the better;\nbut if not, force may be better than the persistence of an unconquered\nfear.\n\nThere is a further point. In the case of my own boy, and presumably in\nother cases too, the experience of overcoming fear is extraordinarily\ndelightful. It is easy to rouse the boy\u2019s pride: when he has won praise\nfor courage, he is radiantly happy for the rest of the day. At a later\nstage, a timid boy suffers agonies through the contempt of other boys,\nand it is much more difficult then for him to acquire new habits. I\nthink therefore that the early acquisition of self-control in the\nmatter of fear, and the early teaching of physical enterprise, are of\nsufficient importance to warrant somewhat drastic methods.\n\nParents learn by their mistakes; it is only when the children are grown\nup that one discovers how they ought to have been educated. I shall\ntherefore relate an incident which shows the snares of overindulgence.\nAt the age of two and a half, my boy was put to sleep in a room\nby himself. He was inordinately proud of the promotion from the\nnight-nursery, and at first he always slept quietly through the night.\nBut one night there was a terrific gale, and a hurdle was blown over\nwith a deafening crash. He woke in terror, and cried out. I went to\nhim at once: he had apparently waked with a nightmare, and clung to me\nwith his heart beating wildly. Very soon his terror ceased. But he had\ncomplained that it was dark--usually, at that time of year, he slept\nall through the dark hours. After I left him, the terror seemed to\nreturn in a mitigated form, so I gave him a night-light. After that, he\nmade an almost nightly practice of crying out, until at last it became\nclear that he was only doing it for the pleasure of having grown-up\npeople come and make a fuss. So we talked to him very carefully about\nthe absence of danger in the dark, and told him that if he woke he was\nto turn over and go to sleep again, as we should not come to him unless\nthere was something serious the matter. He listened attentively, and\nnever cried out again except for grave cause on rare occasions. Of\ncourse the night-light was discontinued. If we had been more indulgent,\nwe should probably have made him sleep badly for a long time, perhaps\nfor life.\n\nSo much from personal experience. We must now pass on to a more general\nconsideration of methods for eliminating fear.\n\nAfter the first years, the proper instructors in physical courage\nare other children. If a child has older brothers and sisters, they\nwill stimulate it both by example and by precept, and whatever they\ncan do it will attempt. At school, physical cowardice is despised, and\nthere is no need for grown-up teachers to emphasize the matter. At\nleast, that is the case among boys. It ought to be equally the case\namong girls, who should have precisely the same standards of courage.\nIn physical ways, fortunately, school-girls are no longer taught to\nbe \u201clady-like\u201d, and their natural impulses towards physical prowess\nare allowed a fair amount of scope. There is still, however, some\ndifference between boys and girls in this respect. I am convinced there\nought to be none.[10]\n\nWhen I speak of courage as desirable, I am taking a purely behaviorist\ndefinition: a man is courageous when he does things which others might\nfail to do owing to fear. If he feels no fear, so much the better; I\ndo not regard control of fear by the will as the only true courage, or\neven as the best form of courage. The secret of modern moral education\nis to produce results by means of good habits which were formerly\nproduced (or attempted) by self-control and will-power. Courage due to\nthe will produces nervous disorders, of which \u201cshell-shock\u201d afforded\nnumerous instances. The fears which had been repressed forced their\nway to the surface in ways not recognizable to introspection. I do\nnot mean to suggest that self-control can be dispensed with entirely;\non the contrary, no man can live a consistent life without it. What I\ndo mean is, that self-control ought only to be needed in unforeseen\nsituations, for which education has not provided in advance. It would\nhave been foolish, even if it had been possible, to train the whole\npopulation to have, without effort, the sort of courage that was\nneeded in the war. This was an exceptional and temporary need, of so\nextraordinary a kind that all other education would have had to be\nstunted if the habits required in the trenches had been instilled in\nyouth.\n\nThe late Dr. Rivers, in his book on \u201cInstinct and the Unconscious\u201d,\ngives the best psychological analysis of fear with which I am\nacquainted. He points out that one way of meeting a dangerous situation\nis manipulative activity, and that those who are able to employ this\nmethod adequately do not, at least consciously, feel the emotion of\nfear. It is a valuable experience, which stimulates both self-respect\nand effort, to pass gradually from fear to skill. Even so simple a\nmatter as learning to ride a bicycle will give this experience in a\nmild form. In the modern world, owing to increase of mechanism, this\nsort of skill is becoming more and more important.\n\nI suggest that training in physical courage should be as far as\npossible given by teaching skill in manipulating or controlling matter,\nnot by means of bodily contests with other human beings. The kind of\ncourage required for mountaineering, for manipulating an aeroplane, or\nfor managing a small ship in a gale, seems to me far more admirable\nthan the sort required in fighting. As far as possible, therefore,\nI should train school-children in forms of more or less dangerous\ndexterity, rather than in such things as football. Where there is an\nenemy to be overcome, let it be matter rather than other human beings.\nI do not mean that this principle should be applied pedantically, but\nthat it should be allowed more weight in athletics than is the case at\npresent.\n\nThere are, of course, more passive aspects of physical courage. There\nis endurance of hurts without making a fuss; this can be taught to\nchildren by not giving too much sympathy when they have small mishaps.\nA great deal of hysteria in later life consists mainly of an excessive\ndesire for sympathy: people invent ailments in the hope of being petted\nand treated softly. This disposition can usually be prevented from\ndeveloping by not encouraging children to cry over every scratch and\nbruise. In this respect, the education of the nursery is still much\nworse for girls than for boys. It is just as bad to be soft with girls\nas with boys; if women are to be the equals of men, they must not be\ninferior in the sterner virtues.\n\nI come now to the forms of courage that are not purely physical. These\nare the more important forms, but it is difficult to develop them\nadequately except on a foundation of the more elementary kinds.\n\nThe fear of the mysterious has been already touched upon, in connection\nwith childish terrors. I believe this fear to be instinctive, and\nof immense historical importance. Most superstition is due to it.\nEclipses, earthquakes, plagues, and such occurrences arouse it in a\nhigh degree among unscientific populations. It is a very dangerous\nform of fear, both individually and socially; to eradicate it in\nyouth is therefore highly desirable. The proper antidote to it is\nscientific explanation. It is not necessary that everything which is\nmysterious at first sight should be explained: after a certain number\nof explanations have been given, the child will assume that there are\nexplanations in other cases, and it will become possible to say that\nthe explanation cannot be given yet. The important thing is to produce,\nas soon as possible, the feeling that the sense of mystery is only due\nto ignorance, which can be dispelled by patience and mental effort.\nIt is a remarkable fact that the very things which terrify children\nat first by their mysterious properties delight them as soon as fear\nis overcome. Thus mystery becomes an incentive to study, as soon as\nit ceases to promote superstition. My little boy, at the age of three\nand a half, spent many hours in absorbed solitary study of a garden\nsyringe, until he had grasped how the water came in and the air came\nout, and how the converse process occurred. Eclipses can be explained\nso as to be intelligible even to very tiny children. Whatever either\nterrifies or interests the child should be explained if it is at all\npossible; this transforms fear into scientific interest by a process\nwhich is entirely along the lines of instinct and repeats the history\nof the race.\n\nSome problems, in this connection, are difficult, and require much\ntact. The most difficult is death. The child soon discovers that plants\nand animals die. The chances are that somebody he knows will die before\nhe is six years old. If he has at all an active mind, it occurs to him\nthat his parents will die, and even that he will die himself. (This\nis more difficult to imagine.) These thoughts will produce a crop of\nquestions, which must be answered carefully. A person whose beliefs\nare orthodox will have less difficulty than a person who thinks that\nthere is no life after death. If you hold the latter view, do not say\nanything contrary to it; no consideration on earth justifies a parent\nin telling lies to his child. It is best to explain that death is\na sleep from which people do not wake. This should be said without\nsolemnity, as if it were the most ordinary thing imaginable. If the\nchild worries about dying himself, tell him it is not likely to happen\nfor many, many years. It would be useless, in early years, to attempt\nto instil a Stoic contempt for death. Do not introduce the topic, but\ndo not avoid it when the child introduces it. Do all you can to make\nthe child feel that there is no mystery about it. If he is a normal\nhealthy child, these methods will suffice to keep him from brooding.\nAt all ages, be willing to talk fully and frankly, to tell all that\nyou believe, and to convey the impression that the subject is rather\nuninteresting. It is not good either for old or young to spend much\ntime in thinking about death.\n\nApart from special fears, children are liable to a diffused anxiety.\nThis is generally due to too much repression by their elders, and is\ntherefore much less common than it used to be. Perpetual nagging,\nprohibition of noise, constant instruction in manners, used to make\nchildhood a period of misery. I can remember, at the age of five, being\ntold that childhood was the happiest period of life (a blank lie, in\nthose days). I wept inconsolably, wished I were dead, and wondered\nhow I should endure the boredom of the years to come. It is almost\ninconceivable, nowadays, that any one should say such a thing to a\nchild. The child\u2019s life is instinctively prospective: it is always\ndirected towards the things that will become possible later on. This\nis part of the stimulus to the child\u2019s efforts. To make the child\nretrospective, to represent the future as worse than the past, is to\nsap the life of the child at its source. Yet that is what heartless\nsentimentalists used to do by talking to the child about the joys of\nchildhood. Fortunately the impression of their words did not last\nlong. At most times, I believed the grown-ups must be perfectly happy,\nbecause they had no lessons and they could eat what they liked. This\nbelief was healthy and stimulating.\n\nShyness is a distressing form of timidity, which is common in England\nand China, and parts of America, but rare elsewhere. It arises partly\nfrom having little to do with strangers, partly from insistence upon\ncompany manners. As far as is convenient, children should, after the\nfirst year, become accustomed to seeing strangers and being handled by\nthem. As regards manners, they should, at first, be taught the bare\nminimum required for not being an intolerable nuisance. It is better\nto let them see strangers for a few minutes without restraint and then\nbe taken away, than to expect them to stay in the room and be quiet.\nBut after the first two years it is a good plan to teach them to amuse\nthemselves quietly part of the day, with pictures or clay or Montessori\napparatus or something of the kind. There should always be a reason for\nquiet that they can understand. Manners should not be taught in the\nabstract, except when it can be done as an amusing game. But as soon as\nthe child can understand he should realize that parents also have their\nrights; he must accord freedom to others, and have freedom for himself\nto the utmost possible extent. Children easily appreciate justice, and\nwill readily accord to others what others accord to them. This is the\ncore of good manners.\n\nAbove all, if you wish to dispel fear in your children, be fearless\nyourself. If you are afraid of thunderstorms, the child will catch\nyour fear the first time he hears thunder in your presence. If you\nexpress a dread of social revolution, the child will feel a fright all\nthe greater for not knowing what you are talking about. If you are\napprehensive about illness, so will your child be. Life is full of\nperils, but the wise man ignores those that are inevitable, and acts\nprudently but without emotion as regards those that can be avoided.\nYou cannot avoid dying, but you can avoid dying intestate; therefore\nmake your will, and forget that you are mortal. Rational provision\nagainst misfortune is a totally different thing from fear; it is a part\nof wisdom, whereas all fear is slavish. If you cannot avoid feeling\nfears, try to prevent your child from suspecting them. Above all, give\nhim that wide outlook and that multiplicity of vivid interests that\nwill prevent him, in later life, from brooding upon possibilities of\npersonal misfortune. Only so can you make him a free citizen of the\nuniverse.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nPLAY AND FANCY\n\n\nLove of play is the most obvious distinguishing mark of young animals,\nwhether human or otherwise. In human children, this is accompanied by\nan inexhaustible pleasure in pretence. Play and pretence are a vital\nneed of childhood, for which opportunity must be provided if the child\nis to be happy and healthy, quite independently of any further utility\nin these activities. There are two questions which concern education in\nthis connection: first, what should parents and schools do in the way\nof providing opportunity? and secondly, should they do anything more,\nwith a view to increasing the educational usefulness of games?\n\nLet us begin with a few words about the psychology of games. This has\nbeen exhaustively treated by Groos; a shorter discussion will be found\nin William Stern\u2019s book mentioned in the preceding chapter. There are\ntwo separate questions in this matter: the first is as to the impulses\nwhich produce play, the second is as to its biological utility. The\nsecond is the easier question. There seems no reason to doubt the most\nwidely accepted theory, that in play the young of any species rehearse\nand practise the activities which they will have to perform in earnest\nlater on. The play of puppies is exactly like a dog-fight, except that\nthey do not actually bite each other. The play of kittens resembles the\nbehaviour of cats with mice. Children love to imitate any work they\nhave been watching, such as building or digging; the more important the\nwork seems to them, the more they like to play at it. And they enjoy\nanything that gives them new muscular facilities, such as jumping,\nclimbing, or walking up a narrow plank--always provided the task is\nnot too difficult. But although this accounts, in a general way, for\nthe usefulness of the play-impulse, it does not by any means cover all\nits manifestations, and must not for a moment be regarded as giving a\npsychological analysis.\n\nSome psycho-analysts have tried to see a sexual symbolism in children\u2019s\nplay. This, I am convinced, is utter moonshine. The main instinctive\nurge of childhood is not sex, but the desire to become adult, or,\nperhaps more correctly, the will to power.[11] The child is impressed\nby his own weakness in comparison with older people, and he wishes\nto become their equal. I remember my boy\u2019s profound delight when he\nrealized that he would one day be a man and that I had once been a\nchild; one could see effort being stimulated by the realization that\nsuccess was possible. From a very early age, the child wishes to\ndo what older people do, as is shown by the practice of imitation.\nOlder brothers and sisters are useful, because their purposes can be\nunderstood and their capacities are not so far out of reach as those of\ngrown-up people. The feeling of inferiority is very strong in children;\nwhen they are normal and rightly educated, it is a stimulus to effort,\nbut if they are repressed it may become a source of unhappiness.\n\nIn play, we have two forms of the will to power: the form which\nconsists in learning to do things, and the form which consists in\nfantasy. Just as the balked adult may indulge in daydreams that have\na sexual significance, so the normal child indulges in pretences that\nhave a power-significance. He likes to be a giant, or a lion, or a\ntrain; in his make-believe, he inspires terror. When I told my boy the\nstory of Jack the Giant Killer, I tried to make him identify himself\nwith Jack, but he firmly chose the giant. When his mother told him the\nstory of Bluebeard, he insisted on being Bluebeard, and regarded the\nwife as justly punished for insubordination. In his play, there was\na sanguinary outbreak of cutting off ladies\u2019 heads. Sadism, Freudians\nwould say; but he enjoyed just as much being a giant who ate little\nboys, or an engine that could pull a heavy load. Power, not sex, was\nthe common element in these pretences. One day, when we were returning\nfrom a walk, I told him, as an obvious joke, that perhaps we should\nfind a certain Mr. Tiddliewinks in possession of our house, and he\nmight refuse to let us in. After that, for a long time, he would stand\non the porch being Mr. Tiddliewinks, and telling me to go to another\nhouse. His delight in this game was unbounded, and obviously the\npretence of power was what he enjoyed.\n\nIt would, however, be an undue simplification to suppose that the\nwill to power is the sole source of children\u2019s play. They enjoy the\npretence of terror--perhaps because the knowledge that it is a pretence\nincreases their sense of safety. Sometimes I pretend to be a crocodile\ncoming to eat my boy up. He squeals so realistically that I stop,\nthinking he is really frightened; but the moment I stop he says, \u201cDaddy\nbe a crocodile again\u201d. A good deal of the pleasure of pretence is sheer\njoy in drama--the same thing that makes adults like novels and the\ntheatre. I think curiosity has a part in all this: by playing bears,\nthe child feels as if he were getting to know about bears. I think\nevery strong impulse in the child\u2019s life is reflected in play: power\nis only dominant in his play in proportion as it is dominant in his\ndesires.\n\nAs regards the educational value of play, everybody would agree in\npraising the sort that consists in acquiring new aptitudes, but many\nmoderns look with suspicion upon the sort that consists in pretence.\nDaydreams, in adult life, are recognized as more or less pathological,\nand as a substitute for efforts in the sphere of reality. Some of\nthe discredit which has fallen upon daydreams has spilled over on to\nchildren\u2019s pretences, quite mistakenly, as I think. Montessori teachers\ndo not like children to turn their apparatus into trains or steamers\nor what not: this is called \u201cdisordered imagination\u201d. They are quite\nright, because what the children are doing is not really play, even\nif to themselves it may seem to be nothing more. The apparatus amuses\nthe child, but its purpose is instruction; the amusement is merely a\nmeans to instruction. In real play, amusement is the governing purpose.\nWhen the objection to \u201cdisordered imagination\u201d is carried over into\ngenuine play, it seems to me to go too far. The same thing applies to\nthe objection to telling children about fairies and giants and witches\nand magic carpets and so on. I cannot sympathize with the ascetics of\ntruth, any more than with ascetics of other kinds. It is commonly said\nthat children do not distinguish between pretence and reality, but I\nsee very little reason to believe this. We do not believe that Hamlet\never existed, but we should be annoyed by a man who kept reminding us\nof this while we were enjoying the play. So children are annoyed by\na tactless reminder of reality, but are not in the least taken in by\ntheir own make-believe.\n\nTruth is important, and imagination is important; but imagination\ndevelops earlier in the history of the individual, as in that of\nthe race. So long as the child\u2019s physical needs are attended to, he\nfinds games far more interesting than reality. In games he is a king:\nindeed he rules his territory with a power surpassing that of any\nmere earthly monarch. In reality he has to go to bed at a certain\ntime, and to obey a host of tiresome precepts. He is exasperated when\nunimaginative adults interfere thoughtlessly with his _mise-en-sc\u00e8ne_.\nWhen he has built a wall that not even the biggest giants can scale,\nand you carelessly step over it, he is as angry as Romulus was with\nRemus. Seeing that his inferiority to other people is normal, not\npathological, its compensation in fantasy is also normal and not\npathological. His games do not take up time which might be more\nprofitably spent in other ways: if all his hours were given over to\nserious pursuits, he would soon become a nervous wreck. An adult who\nindulges in dreams may be told to exert himself in order to realize\nthem; but a child cannot yet realize dreams which it is right that he\nshould have. He does not regard his fancies as a permanent substitute\nfor reality; on the contrary, he ardently hopes to translate them into\nfact when the time comes.\n\nIt is a dangerous error to confound truth with matter-of-fact. Our life\nis governed not only by facts, but by hopes; the kind of truthfulness\nwhich sees nothing but facts is a prison for the human spirit. Dreams\nare only to be condemned when they are a lazy substitute for an effort\nto change reality; when they are an incentive, they are fulfilling a\nvital purpose in the incarnation of human ideals. To kill fancy in\nchildhood is to make a slave to what exists, a creature tethered to\nearth and therefore unable to create heaven.\n\nThis is all very well, you may say, but what has it to do with giants\neating children, or Bluebeard cutting off his wives\u2019 heads? Are these\nthings to exist in your heaven? Must not imagination be purified and\nennobled before it can serve any good purpose? How can you, a pacifist,\nallow your innocent boy to revel in the thought of destroying human\nlife? How can you justify a pleasure derived from instincts of\nsavagery which the human race must outgrow? All this I imagine the\nreader has been feeling. The matter is important, and I will try to\nstate why I hold to a different point of view.\n\nEducation consists in the cultivation of instincts, not in their\nsuppression. Human instincts are very vague, and can be satisfied in a\ngreat variety of ways. Most of them require, for their gratification,\nsome kind of skill. Cricket and baseball satisfy the same instinct,\nbut a boy will play whichever he has learnt. Thus the secret of\ninstruction, in so far as it bears upon character, is to give a man\nsuch kinds of skill as shall lead to his employing his instincts\nusefully. The instinct of power, which in the child is crudely\nsatisfied by identification with Bluebeard, can find in later life a\nrefined satisfaction by scientific discovery, or artistic creation,\nor the creation and education of splendid children, or any one of a\nthousand useful activities. If the only thing a man knows is how to\nfight, his will to power will make him delight in battle. But if he has\nother kinds of skill, he will find his satisfaction in other ways. If,\nhowever, his will to power has been nipped in the bud when he was a\nchild, he will be listless and lazy, doing little good and little harm;\nhe will be \u201c_a Dio spiacente ed a\u2019 nemici sui_.\u201d This kind of milksop\ngoodness is not what the world needs, or what we should try to produce\nin our children. While they are small and cannot do much harm, it is\nbiologically natural that they should, in imagination, live through\nthe life of remote savage ancestors. Do not be afraid that they will\nremain at that level, if you put in their way the knowledge and skill\nrequired for more refined satisfactions. When I was a child, I loved\nto turn head over heels. I never do so now, though I should not think\nit wicked to do so. Similarly the child who enjoys being Bluebeard\nwill outgrow this taste, and learn to seek power in other ways. And\nif his imagination has been kept alive in childhood by the stimuli\nappropriate to that stage, it is much more likely to remain alive in\nlater years, when it can exercise itself in the ways suitable to a man.\nIt is useless to obtrude moral ideas at an age at which they can evoke\nno response, and at which they are not yet required for the control\nof behaviour. The only effect is boredom, and imperviousness to those\nsame ideas at the later age when they might have become potent. That is\none reason, among others, why the study of child psychology is of such\nvital importance to education.\n\nThe games of later years differ from those of early childhood by the\nfact that they become increasingly competitive. At first, a child\u2019s\nplay is solitary; it is difficult for an infant to join in the games of\nolder brothers and sisters. But collective play, as soon as it becomes\npossible, is so much more delightful that pleasure in playing alone\nquickly ceases. English upper-class education has always attributed an\nenormous moral importance to school games. To my mind, there is some\nexaggeration in the conventional British view, although I admit that\ngames have certain important merits. They are good for health, provided\nthey are not too expert; if exceptional skill is too much prized the\nbest players overdo it, while the others tend to lapse into spectators.\nThey teach boys and girls to endure hurts without making a fuss, and\nto incur great fatigue cheerfully. But the other advantages which are\nclaimed for them seem to me largely illusory. They are said to teach\nco-operation, but in fact they only teach it in its competitive form.\nThis is the form required in war, not in industry or in the right\nkind of social relations. Science has made it technically possible\nto substitute co-operation for competition, both in economics and in\ninternational politics; at the same time it has made competition (in\nthe form of war) much more dangerous than it used to be. For these\nreasons, it is more important than in former times to cultivate the\nidea of co-operative enterprises in which the \u201cenemy\u201d is physical\nnature, rather than competitive enterprises in which there are human\nvictors and vanquished. I do not want to lay too much stress upon\nthis consideration, because competitiveness is natural to man and must\nfind some outlet, which can hardly be more innocent than games and\nathletic contests. This is a valid reason for not preventing games, but\nit is not a valid reason for exalting them into a leading position in\nthe school curriculum. Let boys play because they like to do so, not\nbecause the authorities think games an antidote to what the Japanese\ncall \u201cdangerous thoughts\u201d.\n\nI have said a great deal in an earlier chapter about the importance\nof overcoming fear and producing courage; but courage must not be\nconfounded with brutality. Brutality is pleasure in forcing one\u2019s will\nupon other people; courage is indifference to personal misfortunes. I\nwould teach boys and girls, if opportunity offered, to sail small ships\nin stormy seas, to dive from heights, to drive a motor-car or even an\naeroplane. I would teach them, as Sanderson of Oundle did, to build\nmachines and incur risks in scientific experiment. As far as possible,\nI would represent inanimate nature as the antagonist in the game; the\nwill to power can find satisfaction in this contest just as well as\nin competing with other human beings. The skill acquired in this way\nis more useful than skill in cricket or football, and the character\ndeveloped is more in accordance with social morality. And apart from\nmoral qualities, the cult of athletics involves an under-estimation\nof intelligence. Great Britain is losing her industrial position, and\nwill perhaps lose her empire, through stupidity, and through the fact\nthat the authorities do not value or promote intelligence. All this\nis connected with the fanatical belief in the paramount importance of\ngames. Of course it goes deeper: the belief that a young man\u2019s athletic\nrecord is a test of his worth is a symptom of our general failure\nto grasp the need of knowledge and thought in mastering the complex\nmodern world. But on this topic I will say no more now, as it will be\nconsidered again at a later stage.\n\nThere is another aspect of school games, which is usually considered\ngood but which I think on the whole bad; I mean, their efficacy in\npromoting _esprit de corps_. _Esprit de corps_ is liked by authorities,\nbecause it enables them to utilize bad motives for what are considered\nto be good actions. If efforts are to be made they are easily\nstimulated by promoting the desire to surpass some other group. The\ndifficulty is that no motive is provided for efforts which are not\ncompetitive. It is amazing how deeply the competitive motive has eaten\ninto all our activities. If you wish to persuade a borough to improve\nthe public provision for the care of children, you have to point out\nthat some neighbouring borough has a lower infant mortality. If you\nwish to persuade a manufacturer to adopt a new process which is clearly\nan improvement, you have to emphasize the danger of competition. If you\nwish to persuade the War Office that a modicum of military knowledge is\ndesirable in the higher commands--but no, not even fear of defeat will\nprevail in this case, so strong is the \u201cgentlemanly\u201d tradition.[12]\nNothing is done to promote constructiveness for its own sake, or to\nmake people take an interest in doing their job efficiently even if no\none is to be injured thereby. Our economic system has more to do with\nthis than school games. But school games, as they now exist, embody the\nspirit of competition. If the spirit of co-operation is to take its\nplace, a change in school games will be necessary. But to develop this\nsubject would take us too far from our theme. I am not considering the\nbuilding of the good State, but the building of the good individual, in\nso far as this is possible in the existing State. Improvement in the\nindividual and improvement in the community must go hand in hand, but\nit is the individual that specially concerns the writer on education.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nCONSTRUCTIVENESS\n\n\nThe subject of this chapter is one which has already been considered\nincidentally in connection with play, but it is now to be considered on\nits own account.\n\nThe instinctive desires of children, as we have seen, are vague;\neducation and opportunity can turn them into many different channels.\nNeither the old belief in original sin, nor Rousseau\u2019s belief in\nnatural virtue, is in accordance with the facts. The raw material of\ninstinct is ethically neutral, and can be shaped either to good or\nevil by the influence of the environment. There is ground for a sober\noptimism in the fact that, apart from pathological cases, most people\u2019s\ninstincts are, at first, capable of being developed into good forms;\nand the pathological cases would be very few, given proper mental and\nphysical hygiene in the early years. A proper education would make it\npossible to live in accordance with instinct, but it would be a trained\nand cultivated instinct, not the crude unformed impulse which is all\nthat nature provides. The great cultivator of instinct is skill: skill\nwhich provides certain kinds of satisfaction, but not others. Give a\nman the right kinds of skill, and he will be virtuous; give him the\nwrong kinds, or none at all, and he will be wicked.\n\nThese general considerations apply with special force to the will to\npower. We all like to effect _something_, but so far as the love of\npower is concerned we do not care what we effect. Broadly speaking,\nthe more difficult the achievement the more it pleases us. Men like\nfly-fishing, because it is difficult; they will not shoot a bird\nsitting, because it is easy. I take these illustrations, because in\nthem a man has no ulterior motive beyond the pleasure of the activity.\nBut the same principle applies everywhere. I liked arithmetic until I\nlearnt Euclid, Euclid until I learnt analytical geometry, and so on. A\nchild, at first, delights in walking, then in running, then in jumping\nand climbing. What we can do easily no longer gives us a sense of\npower; it is the newly-acquired skill, or the skill about which we are\ndoubtful, that gives us the thrill of success. That is why the will to\npower is so immeasurably adaptable according to the type of skill which\nis taught.\n\nConstruction and destruction alike satisfy the will to power, but\nconstruction is more difficult as a rule, and therefore gives more\nsatisfaction to the person who can achieve it. I shall not attempt to\ngive a pedantically exact definition of construction and destruction; I\nsuppose, roughly speaking, we construct when we increase the potential\nenergy of the system in which we are interested, and we destroy when\nwe diminish its potential energy. Or, in more psychological terms,\nwe construct when we produce a predesigned structure, and we destroy\nwhen we liberate natural forces to alter an existing structure,\nwithout being interested in the resulting new structure. Whatever\nmay be thought of these definitions, we all know in practice whether\nan activity is to be regarded as constructive or destructive, except\nin a few cases where a man professes to be destroying with a view to\nrebuilding and we are not sure whether he is sincere.\n\nDestruction being easier, a child\u2019s games usually begin with it, and\nonly pass on to construction at a later stage. A child on the sand with\na pail likes grown-up people to make sand-puddings, and then knock them\ndown with his spade. But as soon as he can make sand-puddings himself,\nhe delights in doing so, and will not permit them to be knocked down.\nWhen a child first has bricks, he likes to destroy towers built by\nhis elders. But when he has learnt to build for himself, he becomes\ninordinately proud of his performances, and cannot bear to see his\narchitectural efforts reduced to a heap of ruins. The impulse which\nmakes the child enjoy the game is exactly the same at both stages, but\nnew skill has changed the activity resulting from the impulse.\n\nThe first beginnings of many virtues arise out of experiencing\nthe joys of construction. When a child begs you to leave his\nconstructions undestroyed, you can easily make him understand that he\nmust not destroy other people\u2019s. In this way you can create respect\nfor the produce of labour, the only socially innocuous source of\nprivate property. You also give the child an incentive to patience,\npersistence, and observation; without these qualities, he will not\nsucceed in building his tower to the height upon which he had set\nhis heart. In play with children, you should only construct yourself\nsufficiently to stimulate ambition and to show how the thing is done;\nafter that, construction should be left to their own efforts.\n\nIf a child has access to a garden, it is easy to cultivate a more\nelaborate form of constructiveness. The first impulse of a child in a\ngarden is to pick every attractive flower. It is easy to check this\nby prohibition, but mere prohibition is inadequate as an education.\nOne wants to produce in the child the same respect for the garden that\nrestrains the grown-ups from picking wantonly. The respect of the\ngrown-up is due to realization of the labour and effort required to\nproduce the pleasing result. By the time a child is three years old, he\ncan be given a corner of the garden and encouraged to plant seeds in\nit. When they come up and blossom, his own flowers seem precious and\nwonderful; then he can appreciate that his mother\u2019s flowers also must\nbe treated with care.\n\nThe elimination of thoughtless cruelty is to be effected most easily by\ndeveloping an interest in construction and growth. Almost every child,\nas soon as he is old enough, wants to kill flies and other insects;\nthis leads on to the killing of larger animals, and ultimately of\nmen. In the ordinary English upper-class family, the killing of birds\nis considered highly creditable, and the killing of men in war is\nregarded as the noblest of professions. This attitude is in accordance\nwith untrained instinct: it is that of men who possess no form of\nconstructive skill, and are therefore unable to find any innocent\nembodiment of their will to power. They can make pheasants die and\ntenants suffer; when occasion arises, they can shoot a rhinoceros or a\nGerman. But in more useful arts they are entirely deficient, as their\nparents and teachers thought it sufficient to make them into English\ngentlemen. I do not believe that at birth they are any stupider\nthan other babies; their deficiencies in later life are entirely\nattributable to bad education. If, from an early age, they had been led\nto feel the value of life by watching its development with affectionate\nproprietorship; if they had acquired forms of constructive skill; if\nthey had been made to realize with apprehension how quickly and easily\na slow product of anxious solicitude can be destroyed--if all this had\nformed part of their early moral training, they would not be so ready\nto destroy what others have similarly created or tended. The great\neducator in this respect in later life is parenthood, provided the\ninstinct is adequately aroused. But in the rich this seldom happens,\nbecause they leave the care of their children to paid professionals;\ntherefore we cannot wait till they become parents before beginning to\neradicate their destructive tendencies.\n\nEvery author who has had uneducated housemaids knows that it is\ndifficult (the public may wish it were impossible) to restrain their\npassion for lighting the fire with his manuscripts. A fellow-author,\neven if he were a jealous enemy, would not think of doing such a\nthing, because experience has taught him the value of manuscripts.\nSimilarly the boy who has a garden will not trample on other people\u2019s\nflower-beds, and the boy who has pets can be taught to respect animal\nlife. Respect for human life is likely to exist in any one who has\ntaken trouble over his or her own children. It is the trouble we\ntake over our children that elicits the stronger forms of parental\naffection; in those who avoid this trouble the parental instinct\nbecomes more or less atrophied, and remains only as a sense of\nresponsibility. But parents are far more likely to take trouble over\ntheir children if their own constructive impulses have been fully\ndeveloped; thus for this reason also it is very desirable to pay\nattention to this aspect of education.\n\nWhen I speak of constructiveness, I am not thinking only of material\nconstruction. Such occupations as acting and choral singing involve\nco-operative non-material construction; they are pleasant to many\nchildren and young people, and should be encouraged (though not\nenforced). Even in purely intellectual matters it is possible to have\na constructive or a destructive bias. A classical education is almost\nentirely critical: a boy learns to avoid mistakes, and to despise those\nwho commit them. This tends to produce a kind of cold correctness, in\nwhich originality is replaced by respect for authority. Correct Latin\nis fixed once for all: it is that of Vergil and Cicero. Correct science\nis continually changing, and an able youth may look forward to helping\nin this process. Consequently the attitude produced by a scientific\neducation is likely to be more constructive than that produced by the\nstudy of dead languages. Wherever avoidance of error is the chief thing\naimed at, education tends to produce an intellectually bloodless type.\nThe prospect of doing something venturesome with one\u2019s knowledge ought\nto be held before all the abler young men and young women. Too often,\nhigher education is regarded as conferring something analogous to\ngood manners, a merely negative code by which solecisms are avoided.\nIn such an education, constructiveness has been forgotten. The usual\ntype produced is, as might be expected, niggling, unenterprising, and\nlacking in generosity. All this is avoided when positive achievement is\nmade the goal of education.\n\nIn the later years of education, there should be a stimulation of\nsocial constructiveness. I mean, that those whose intelligence is\nadequate should be encouraged in using their imaginations to think out\nmore productive ways of utilizing existing social forces or creating\nnew ones. Men read Plato\u2019s \u201cRepublic\u201d, but they do not attach it to\ncurrent politics at any point. When I stated that the Russian State in\n1920 had ideals which were almost exactly those of the \u201cRepublic\u201d, it\nwas hard to say whether the Platonists or the Bolsheviks were the more\nshocked. People read a literary classic without any attempt to see\nwhat it means in terms of the lives of Brown, Jones and Robinson. This\nis particularly easy with a Utopia, because we are not told of any road\nwhich leads to it from our present social system. The valuable faculty,\nin these matters, is that of judging rightly as to the next step.\nBritish nineteenth-century Liberals had this merit, though the ultimate\nresults to which their measures were bound to lead would have horrified\nthem. A great deal depends upon the kind of image that dominates a\nman\u2019s thinking, often quite unconsciously. A social system may be\nconceived in many ways; the commonest are a mould, a machine, and a\ntree. The first belongs to the static conceptions of society, such as\nthose of Sparta and traditional China: human nature is to be poured\ninto a prepared mould, and to set in a preconceived shape. Something\nof this idea exists in any rigid moral or social convention. The man\nwhose outlook is dominated by this image will have a political outlook\nof a certain kind--stiff and unyielding, stern and persecuting. The man\nwho conceives of society as a machine is more modern. The industrialist\nand the communist alike belong to this class. To them, human nature is\nuninteresting, and the ends of life are simple--usually the maximizing\nof production. The purpose of social organization is to secure these\nsimple ends. The difficulty is that actual human beings will not\ndesire them; they persist in wanting all kinds of chaotic things\nwhich seem worthless to the tidy mind of the organizer. This drives\nthe organizer back to the mould, in order to produce human beings who\ndesire what he thinks good. And this, in turn, leads to revolution.\n\nThe man who imagines a social system as a tree will have a different\npolitical outlook. A bad machine can be scrapped, and another put in\nits place. But if a tree is cut down, it is a long time before a new\ntree achieves the same strength and size. A machine or a mould is what\nits maker chooses; a tree has its specific nature, and can only be made\ninto a better or worse example of the species. Constructiveness applied\nto living things is quite different from constructiveness applied to\nmachines; it has humbler functions, and requires a sort of sympathy.\nFor that reason, in teaching constructiveness to the young, they should\nhave opportunities of exercising it upon plants and animals, not only\nupon bricks and machines. Physics has been dominant in thought since\nthe time of Newton, and in practice since the industrial revolution;\nthis has brought with it a rather mechanical conception of society.\nBiological evolution introduced a new set of ideas, but they were\nsomewhat overshadowed by natural selection, which it should be our\naim to eliminate from human affairs by eugenics, birth-control, and\neducation. The conception of society as a tree is better than the mould\nor the machine, but it is still defective. It is to psychology that\nwe must look to supply the deficiency. Psychological constructiveness\nis a new and special kind, very little understood as yet. It is\nessential to a right theory of education, politics, and all purely\nhuman affairs. And it should dominate the imaginations of citizens,\nif they are not to be misled by false analogies. Some people dread\nconstructiveness in human affairs, because they fear that it must be\nmechanical; they therefore believe in anarchism and the \u201creturn to\nnature\u201d. I am trying in this book to show, in concrete instances, how\npsychological construction differs from the construction of a machine.\nThe imaginative side of this idea ought to be made familiar in higher\neducation; if it were, I believe that our politics would cease to be\nangular and sharp and destructive, becoming instead supple and truly\nscientific, with the development of splendid men and women as its goal.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nSELFISHNESS AND PROPERTY\n\n\nI come now to a problem analogous to that of Fear, in that we are\nconcerned with an impulse which is strong, partly instinctive, and\nlargely undesirable. In all such cases, we have to be careful not to\nthwart a child\u2019s nature. It is useless to shut our eyes to his nature,\nor to wish that it were different; we must accept the raw material\nwhich is provided, and not attempt to treat it in ways only applicable\nto some different material.\n\nSelfishness is not an ultimate ethical conception; the more it is\nanalysed, the vaguer it becomes. But as a phenomenon in the nursery\nit is perfectly definite, and presents problems with which it is\nvery necessary to cope. Left to himself, an older child will seize a\nyounger child\u2019s toys, demand more than his share of grown-up attention,\nand generally pursue his desires regardless of the younger child\u2019s\ndisappointments. A human ego, like a gas, will always expand unless\nrestrained by external pressure. The object of education, in this\nrespect, is to let the external pressure take the form of habits,\nideas and sympathies in the child\u2019s own mind, not of knocks and blows\nand punishments. The idea which is needed is that of justice, not\nself-sacrifice. Every person has a right to a certain amount of room\nin the world, and should not be made to feel wicked in standing up for\nwhat is due to him. When self-sacrifice is taught, the idea seems to be\nthat it will not be fully practised, and that the practical result will\nbe about right. But in fact people either fail to learn the lesson, or\nfeel sinful when they demand mere justice, or carry self-sacrifice to\nridiculous extremes. In the last case, they feel an obscure resentment\nagainst the people to whom they make renunciations, and probably allow\nselfishness to return by the back door of a demand for gratitude. In\nany case, self-sacrifice cannot be true doctrine, because it cannot be\nuniversal; and it is most undesirable to teach falsehood as a means to\nvirtue, because when the falsehood is perceived the virtue evaporates.\nJustice, on the contrary, can be universal. Therefore justice is the\nconception that we ought to try to instil into the child\u2019s thoughts and\nhabits.\n\nIt is difficult, if not impossible, to teach justice to a solitary\nchild. The rights and desires of grown-up people are so different from\nthose of children that they make no imaginative appeal; there is\nhardly ever direct competition for exactly the same pleasure. Moreover,\nas the grown-up people are in a position to exact obedience to their\nown demands, they have to be judges in their own case, and do not\nproduce upon the child the effect of an impartial tribunal. They can,\nof course, give definite precepts inculcating this or that form of\nconvenient behaviour: not to interrupt when their mother is counting\nthe wash, not to shout when their father is busy, not to obtrude\ntheir concerns when there are visitors. But these are inexplicable\nrequirements, to which, it is true, the child submits willingly enough\nif otherwise kindly treated, but which make no appeal to his own sense\nof what is reasonable. It is right that the child should be made to\nobey such rules, because he must not be allowed to be a tyrant, and\nbecause he must understand that other people attach importance to their\nown pursuits, however odd those pursuits may be. But not much more\nthan external good behaviour is to be got by such methods; the real\neducation in justice can only come where there are other children.\nThis is one of many reasons why no child should long be solitary.\nParents who have the misfortune to have an only child should do all\nthat they can to secure companionship for it, even at the cost of a\ngood deal of separation from home, if no other way is possible. A\nsolitary child must be either suppressed or selfish--perhaps both by\nturns. A well-behaved only child is pathetic, and an ill-behaved one\nis a nuisance. In these days of small families, this is a more serious\ntrouble than it used to be. It is one of the grounds for advocating\nnursery-schools, as to which I shall have more to say in a later\nchapter. But for the moment I shall assume a family of two at least,\nnot very widely separated in age, so that their tastes are largely the\nsame.\n\nWhere there is competition for a pleasure which can only be enjoyed by\none at a time, such as a ride in a wheelbarrow, it will be found that\nthe children readily understand justice. Their impulse, of course, is\nto demand the pleasure for themselves to the exclusion of the others,\nbut it is surprising how quickly this impulse is overcome when the\ngrown-ups institute the system of a turn for each. I do not believe\nthat a sense of justice is innate, but I have been astonished to see\nhow quickly it can be created. Of course, it must be real justice;\nthere must not be any secret bias. If you are fonder of some of the\nchildren than of others, you must be on your guard to prevent your\naffections from having any influence on your distribution of pleasures.\nIt is of course a generally recognized principle that toys must be\nequal.\n\nIt is quite useless to attempt to suppress the demand for justice by\nany kind of moral training. Do not give more than justice, but do not\nexpect the child to accept less. There is a chapter in \u201cThe Fairchild\nFamily\u201d on \u201cThe Secret Sins of the Heart\u201d which illustrates the methods\nto be avoided. Lucy has maintained that she has been good, so her\nmother tells her that even when her behaviour is all right her thoughts\nare wrong, and quotes: \u201cThe heart is deceitful above all things and\ndesperately wicked\u201d (Jeremiah, xvii, 9). So Mrs. Fairchild gives Lucy\na little book in which to record the \u201cdesperately wicked\u201d things that\nare in her heart when outwardly she is good. At breakfast, her parents\ngive a ribbon to her sister and a cherry to her brother, but nothing to\nher. She records in her book that at this point she had a very wicked\nthought, that her parents loved her brother and sister better than\nthey loved her. She had been taught, and she believed, that she ought\nto cope with this thought by moral discipline; but by this method it\ncould only be driven underground, to produce strange distorted effects\nin later years. The proper course would have been for her to express\nher feeling, and for her parents to dispel it either by giving her a\npresent, too, or by explaining, in a way she could understand, that she\nmust wait for another time, as no further present was available at the\nmoment. Truth and frankness dispel difficulties, but the attempt at\nrepressive moral discipline only aggravates them.\n\nClosely connected with justice is the sense of property. This is a\ndifficult matter, which must be dealt with by adaptable tact, not by\nany rigid set of rules. There are, in fact, conflicting considerations,\nwhich make it difficult to take a clear line. On the one hand, the\nlove of property produces many terrible evils in later years; the fear\nof losing valued material possessions is one of the main sources of\npolitical and economic cruelty. It is desirable that men and women\nshould, as far as possible, find their happiness in ways which are not\nsubject to private ownership, _i.e._, in creative rather than defensive\nactivities. For this reason, it is unwise to cultivate the sense of\nproperty in children if it can be helped. But before proceeding to act\nupon this view, there are some very strong arguments on the other side,\nwhich it would be dangerous to neglect. In the first place, the sense\nof property is very strong in children; it develops as soon as they\ncan grasp objects which they see (the hand-eye co-ordination). What\nthey grasp, they feel is theirs, and they are indignant if it is taken\naway. We still speak of a property as a \u201cholding\u201d, and \u201cmaintenance\u201d\nmeans \u201cholding in the hand\u201d. These words show the primitive connection\nbetween property and grasp; so does the word \u201cgrasping\u201d. A child\nwhich has no toys of its own will pick up sticks or broken bricks or\nany odds and ends it may find, and will treasure them as its very own.\nThe desire for property is so deep-seated that it cannot be thwarted\nwithout danger. Moreover property cultivates carefulness and curbs the\nimpulse of destruction. Especially useful is property in anything that\nthe child has made himself; if this is not permitted, his constructive\nimpulses are checked.\n\nWhere the arguments are so conflicting, we cannot adopt any clear-cut\npolicy, but must be guided to a great extent by circumstances and the\nchild\u2019s nature. Nevertheless, something can be said as to the means of\nreconciling these opposites in practice.\n\nAmong toys, some should be private and some common. To take an extreme\ncase, a rocking-horse would of course always be common. This suggests\na principle: where a toy can be equally enjoyed by all, but only by\none at a time, it should be common if it is too large or expensive to\nbe duplicated. On the other hand, toys more adapted to one child than\nto another (because of difference of age, for example) may properly\nbelong to the one to whom they give the most pleasure. If a toy wants\ncareful handling which an older child has learnt to give, it is fair\nthat a younger child should not be allowed to get hold of it and\nspoil it. The younger child should be compensated by private property\nin the toys specially appropriate to its age. After two years old, a\nbroken toy should not be immediately replaced if it has been broken\nby the child\u2019s carelessness; it is just as well that the loss should\nbe felt for a while. Do not let a child always refuse the use of its\nown toys to other children. Whenever it has more than it can actually\nuse, it should not be allowed to protest if another child plays with\nthose that it is not using. But here I should except toys which the\nother child is likely to break, and toys out of which their owner has\nconstructed some edifice which is a source of pride. Until the edifice\nis forgotten, it should, if possible, be allowed to stand, as a reward\nof industry. Subject to these provisos, do not let the child develop a\ndog-in-the-manger attitude; it must never be allowed to prevent another\nchild\u2019s enjoyment wantonly. It is not very difficult to teach a modicum\nof decent behaviour in these respects, and it is quite worth the\nnecessary firmness. Do not allow a child to snatch things from another\nchild, even when it would be within its legal rights in doing so. If an\nolder child is unkind to a younger one, show a similar unkindness to\nthe older one, and explain immediately why you do so. By such methods\nit is not difficult to establish that degree of kindness in children to\neach other which is necessary to prevent constant storms and tears.\nOn occasion, a certain amount of sternness may be necessary, amounting\nto a mild form of punishment. But on no account must a habit of\ntyrannizing over the weak be allowed to develop.\n\nWhile permitting a certain number of cherished possessions, it is\nwell to encourage the habit of using toys, such as bricks, to which\nthe child only has the exclusive right while he is using them. The\nMontessori apparatus is common to all the children, but so long as a\nchild is using one piece of apparatus no other child must interfere.\nThis develops a sense of limited tenant-right, dependent upon work;\nsuch a sense does not run counter to anything that is desirable in\nlater years. For very young children, this method is hardly applicable,\nbecause they are not yet sufficiently constructive. But as they acquire\nskill it becomes more and more possible to interest them in the process\nof building. So long as they know they can have the material for\nconstruction whenever they like, they will not much mind others having\nit too, and the reluctance to sharing which they may feel at first is\nsoon dispelled by custom. Nevertheless, when a child is old enough, he\nshould, I think, be allowed to own books, because that will increase\nhis love of books and therefore stimulate reading. The books that are\nhis own property should, as far as possible, be good books, such as\nLewis Carroll and Tanglewood Tales, not mere trash. If the children\nwant trash, it should be common property.\n\nThe broad principles involved are: First, do not produce in the child\na sense of thwarting from not having enough property; this is the way\nto produce a miser. Secondly, allow the child private property when it\nstimulates a desirable activity, and, in particular, where it teaches\ncareful handling. But subject to these limitations turn the child\u2019s\nattention, as far as you can, to pleasures not involving private\nownership. And even where there is private ownership, do not allow the\nchild to be mean or miserly when other children wish to be allowed to\nplay with his things. As to this, however, the object is to induce the\nchild to lend of his own free will; so long as authority is required,\nthe end aimed at has not been achieved. In a happy child, it should not\nbe difficult to stimulate a generous disposition; but if the child is\nstarved of pleasures, he will of course cling tenaciously to those that\nare attainable. It is not through suffering that children learn virtue,\nbut through happiness and health.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nTRUTHFULNESS\n\n\nTo produce the habit of truthfulness should be one of the major aims\nof moral education. I do not mean truthfulness in speech only, but\nalso in thought; indeed, of the two, the latter seems to me the more\nimportant. I prefer a person who lies with full consciousness of what\nhe is doing to a person who first subconsciously deceives himself\nand then imagines that he is being virtuous and truthful. Indeed, no\nman who thinks truthfully can believe that it is _always_ wrong to\nspeak untruthfully. Those who hold that a lie is always wrong have to\nsupplement this view by a great deal of casuistry and considerable\npractice in misleading ambiguities, by means of which they deceive\nwithout admitting to themselves that they are lying. Nevertheless, I\nhold that the occasions when lying is justifiable are few--much fewer\nthan would be inferred from the practice of high-minded men. And almost\nall the occasions which justify lying are occasions where power is\nbeing used tyrannically, or where people are engaged in some harmful\nactivity such as war; therefore in a good social system they would be\neven rarer than they are now.\n\nUntruthfulness, as a practice, is almost always a product of fear. The\nchild brought up without fear will be truthful, not in virtue of a\nmoral effort, but because it will never occur to him to be otherwise.\nThe child who has been treated wisely and kindly has a frank look in\nthe eyes, and a fearless demeanour even with strangers; whereas the\nchild that has been subject to nagging or severity is in perpetual\nterror of incurring reproof, and terrified of having transgressed some\nrule whenever he has behaved in a natural manner. It does not at first\noccur to a young child that it is possible to lie. The possibility of\nlying is a discovery, due to observation of grown-ups quickened by\nterror. The child discovers that grown-ups lie to him, and that it is\ndangerous to tell them the truth; under these circumstances he takes to\nlying. Avoid these incentives, and he will not think of lying.\n\nBut in judging whether children are truthful, a certain caution is\nnecessary. Children\u2019s memories are very faulty, and they often do not\nknow the answer to a question when grown-up people think they do. Their\nsense of time is very vague; a child under four will hardly distinguish\nbetween yesterday and a week ago, or between yesterday and six hours\nago. When they do not know the answer to a question, they tend to say\nyes or no according to the suggestion in your tone of voice. Again,\nthey are often talking in the dramatic character of some make-believe.\nWhen they tell you solemnly that there is a lion in the back garden,\nthis is obvious; but in many cases it is quite easy to mistake play for\nearnest. For all these reasons, a young child\u2019s statements are often\nobjectively untrue, but without the slightest intention to deceive.\nIndeed, children tend, at first, to regard grown-ups as omniscient,\nand therefore incapable of being deceived. My boy (three and three\nquarters) will ask me to tell him (for the pleasure of the story) what\noccurred to him on some interesting occasion when I was not present;\nI find it almost impossible to persuade him that I don\u2019t know what\nhappened. Grown-up people get to know so many things in ways the child\ndoes not understand, that he cannot set limits to their powers. Last\nEaster, my boy was given a number of chocolate Easter eggs. We told him\nthat if he ate too much chocolate he would be sick, but, having told\nhim, we left him alone. He ate too much, and was sick. He came to me as\nsoon as the crisis was over, with a beaming face, saying, in a voice\nalmost of triumph, \u201cI was sick, Daddy--Daddy told me I should be sick.\u201d\nHis pleasure in the verification of a scientific law was astonishing.\nSince then, it has been possible to trust him with chocolate, in spite\nof the fact that he seldom has it; moreover he implicitly believes\neverything we tell him about what food is good for him. There has been\nno need of moral exhortation or punishment or fear in bringing about\nthis result. There has been need, at earlier stages, of patience and\nfirmness. He is nearing the age where it is usual for boys to steal\nsweet things and lie about it. I dare say he will steal sometimes, but\nI shall be surprised if he lies. When a child does lie, parents should\ntake themselves to task rather than him; they should deal with it by\nremoving its causes, and by explaining gently and reasonably why it is\nbetter not to lie. They should not deal with it by punishment, which\nonly increases fear and therefore the motive for lying.\n\nRigid truthfulness in adults towards children is, of course, absolutely\nindispensable if children are not to learn lying. Parents who teach\nthat lying is a sin, and who nevertheless are known to lie by their\nchildren, naturally lose all moral authority. The idea of speaking the\ntruth to children is entirely novel; hardly anybody did it before the\npresent generation. I greatly doubt whether Eve told Cain and Abel the\ntruth about apples; I am convinced that she told them she had never\neaten anything that wasn\u2019t good for her. It used to be the thing\nfor parents to represent themselves as Olympians, immune from human\npassions and always actuated by pure reason. When they reproached\nthe children, they did it more in sorrow than in anger; however they\nmight scold, they were not \u201ccross\u201d, but talking to the children for\ntheir good. Parents did not realize that children are astonishingly\nclear-sighted: they do not understand all the solemn political reasons\nfor humbug, but despise it straightforwardly and simply. Jealousies\nand envies of which you are unconscious will be evident to your child,\nwho will discount all your fine moral talk about the wickedness of the\nobjects of these passions. Never pretend to be faultless and inhuman;\nthe child will not believe you, and would not like you any the better\nif he did. I remember vividly how, at a very early age, I saw through\nthe Victorian humbug and hypocrisy with which I was surrounded, and\nvowed that, if I ever had children, I would not repeat the mistakes\nthat were being made with me. To the best of my ability, I am keeping\nthis vow.\n\nAnother form of lying, which is extremely bad for the young, is to\nthreaten punishments you do not mean to inflict. Dr. Ballard, in his\nmost interesting book on \u201cThe Changing School\u201d,[13] has stated this\nprinciple rather emphatically: \u201cDon\u2019t threaten. If you do, let nothing\nstop you from carrying out your threat. If you say to a boy, \u2018Do that\nagain and I\u2019ll murder you\u2019, and he does it again, then you must murder\nhim. If you don\u2019t he will lose all respect for you\u201d (p. 112). The\npunishments threatened by nurses and ignorant parents in dealing with\ninfants are somewhat less extreme, but the same rule applies. Do not\ninsist, except for good reason; but when you have once begun insisting,\ncontinue, however you may regret having embarked upon the battle. If\nyou threaten a punishment, let it be one that you are prepared to\ninflict; never trust to luck that your bluff will not be called. It is\nodd how difficult it is to get this principle understood by uneducated\npeople. It is particularly objectionable when they threaten something\nterrifying, such as being locked up by the policeman or carried off\nby the bogey-man. This produces first a state of dangerous nervous\nterror and then a complete scepticism as to all statements and threats\nby grown-up people. If you never insist without carrying the matter\nthrough, the child soon learns that on such occasions resistance is\nuseless, and he obeys a mere word without giving further trouble. But\nit is essential to the success of this method that you should not\ninsist unless there is some really strong reason for doing so.\n\nAnother undesirable form of humbug is to treat inanimate objects as if\nthey were alive. Nurses sometimes teach children, when they have hurt\nthemselves by bumping into a chair or table, to smack the offending\nobject and say, \u201cnaughty chair\u201d or \u201cnaughty table\u201d. This removes a most\nuseful source of natural discipline. Left to himself, the child soon\nrealizes that inanimate objects can only be manipulated by skill, not\nby anger or cajolery. This is a stimulus to the acquisition of skill,\nand a help in realizing the limits of personal power.\n\nLies about sex are sanctioned by time-honoured usage. I believe them to\nbe wholly and utterly bad, but I shall say no more on this subject now,\nas I propose to devote a chapter to sex education.\n\nChildren who are not suppressed ask innumerable questions, some\nintelligent, others quite the reverse. These questions are often\nwearisome, and sometimes inconvenient. But they must be answered\ntruthfully, to the best of your ability. If the child asks you a\nquestion connected with religion, say exactly what you think, even if\nyou contradict some other grown-up person who thinks differently. If\nhe asks you about death, answer him. If he asks you questions designed\nto show that you are wicked or foolish, answer him. If he asks you\nabout war, or capital punishment, answer him. Do not put him off\nwith \u201cyou can\u2019t understand that yet\u201d, except in difficult scientific\nmatters, such as how electric light is made. And even then, make it\nclear that the answer is a pleasure in store for him, as soon as he\nhas learnt rather more than he now knows. Tell him rather more than he\ncan understand, not rather less; the part he fails to understand will\nstimulate his curiosity and his intellectual ambition.\n\nInvariable truthfulness to a child reaps its reward in increased trust.\nThe child has a natural tendency to believe what you say, except when\nit runs counter to a strong desire, as in the case of the Easter eggs\nwhich I mentioned just now. A little experience of the truth of your\nremarks even in these cases enables you to win belief easily and\nwithout emphasis. But if you have been in the habit of threatening\nconsequences which did not happen, you will have to become more and\nmore insistent and terrifying, and in the end you will only produce\na state of nervous uncertainty. One day my boy wanted to paddle in a\nstream, but I told him not to, because I thought there were bits of\nbroken crockery which would cut his feet. His desire was keen, so he\nwas sceptical about the crockery; but after I had found a piece and\nshown him the sharp edge, he became entirely acquiescent. If I had\ninvented the crockery for my own convenience, I should have lost his\nconfidence. If I had not found any, I should have let him paddle.\nIn consequence of repeated experiences of this sort, he has almost\nentirely ceased to be sceptical of my reasons.\n\nWe live in a world of humbug, and the child brought up without humbug\nis bound to despise much that is commonly thought to deserve respect.\nThis is regrettable, because contempt is a bad emotion. I should\nnot call his attention to such matters, though I should satisfy his\ncuriosity whenever it turned towards them. Truthfulness is something\nof a handicap in a hypocritical society, but the handicap is more than\noutweighed by the advantages of fearlessness, without which no one\ncan be truthful. We wish our children to be upright, candid, frank,\nself-respecting; for my part, I would rather see them fail with these\nqualities than succeed by the arts of the slave. A certain native pride\nand integrity is essential to a splendid human being, and where it\nexists lying becomes impossible, except when it is prompted by some\ngenerous motive. I would have my children truthful in their thoughts\nand words, even if it should entail worldly misfortune, for something\nof more importance than riches and honours is at stake.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nPUNISHMENT\n\n\nIn former days, and until very recently, the punishment of children,\nboth boys and girls, was taken as a matter of course, and was\nuniversally regarded as indispensable in education. We have seen in an\nearlier chapter what Dr. Arnold thought about flogging, and his views\nwere, at the time, exceptionally humane. Rousseau is associated with\nthe theory of leaving things to nature, yet in \u201cEmile\u201d he occasionally\nadvocates quite severe punishments. The conventional view, a hundred\nyears ago, is set forth in one of the \u201cCautionary Tales\u201d, in which a\nlittle girl makes a fuss because they are putting on her white sash\nwhen she wants her pink one.\n\n  Papa, who in the parlour heard\n    Her make the noise and rout,\n  That instant went to Caroline,\n    To whip her, there\u2019s no doubt.\n\nWhen Mr. Fairchild found his children quarrelling, he caned them,\nmaking the cane keep time to the verse \u201cLet dogs delight to bark and\nbite\u201d. He then took them to see a corpse hanging in chains on a gibbet.\nThe little boy was frightened, and begged to be taken home, as the\nchains rattled in the wind. But Mr. Fairchild compelled him to look for\na long time, saying that this spectacle showed what happened to those\nwho had hatred in their hearts. The child was destined to become a\nclergyman, and presumably had to be taught to depict the terrors of the\ndamned with the vividness of one who has experienced them.\n\nNowadays, few people would advocate such methods, even in Tennessee.\nBut there is considerable divergence of opinion as to what should take\ntheir place. Some people still advocate a fair amount of punishment,\nwhile others consider that it is possible to dispense with punishment\naltogether. There is room for many shades between these two extremes.\n\nFor my part, I believe that punishment has a certain very minor place\nin education; but I doubt whether it need ever be severe. I include\nspeaking sharply or reprovingly among punishments. The most severe\npunishment that ought ever to be necessary is the natural spontaneous\nexpression of indignation. On a few occasions when my boy has been\nrough with his younger sister, his mother has expressed anger by an\nimpulsive exclamation. The effect has been very great. The boy burst\ninto sobs, and would not be consoled until his mother had made much\nof him. The impression was very profound, as one could see from\nhis subsequent good conduct towards his sister. On a few occasions\nwe have resorted to mild forms of punishment when he has persisted\nin demanding things we had refused him, or in interfering with his\nsister\u2019s play. In such cases, when reason and exhortation have failed,\nwe take him to a room by himself, leave the door open, and tell him\nhe can come back as soon as he is good. In a very few minutes, after\ncrying vigorously, he comes back, and is invariably good: he perfectly\nunderstands that in coming back he has undertaken to be good. So far,\nwe have never found any need of severer penalties. If one can judge\nfrom the books of old-fashioned disciplinarians, the children educated\nby the old methods were far naughtier than the modern child. I should\ncertainly be horrified if my boy were half as badly behaved as the\nchildren in \u201cThe Fairchild Family\u201d; but I should think the fault lay\nmore with his parents than with himself. I believe that reasonable\nparents create reasonable children. The children must feel their\nparents\u2019 affection--not duty and responsibility, for which no child is\ngrateful, but warm love, which feels delight in the child\u2019s presence\nand ways. And except when it is quite impossible, a prohibition must\nbe explained carefully and truthfully. Small misfortunes, such as\nbruises and slight cuts, should sometimes be allowed to happen rather\nthan interfere with rash games; a little experience of this kind makes\nchildren more willing to believe that a prohibition may be wise. Where\nthese conditions are present from the first, I believe children will\nseldom do anything deserving of serious punishment.\n\nWhen a child persistently interferes with other children or spoils\ntheir pleasures, the obvious penalty is banishment. It is imperatively\nnecessary to take steps of some kind, because it would be most unfair\nto let the other children suffer. But there is no use in making the\nrefractory child feel guilty; it is much more to the purpose to make\nhim feel that he is missing pleasures which the others are enjoying.\nMadame Montessori describes her practice as follows:\n\n  As to punishments, we have many times come in contact with children\n  who disturbed the others without paying attention to our corrections.\n  Such children were at once examined by the physician. When the case\n  proved to be that of a normal child, we placed one of the little\n  tables in a corner of the room, and in this way isolated the child;\n  having him sit in a comfortable little armchair, so placed that he\n  might see his companions at work, and giving him those games and\n  toys to which he was most attracted. This isolation almost always\n  succeeded in calming the child; from his position he could see the\n  entire assembly of his companions, and the way in which they carried\n  on their work was an _object lesson_ much more efficacious than any\n  words of the teacher could possibly have been. Little by little,\n  he would come to see the advantages of being one of the company\n  working so busily before his eyes, and he would really wish to go\n  back and do as the others did. We have in this way led back again to\n  discipline all the children who at first seemed to rebel against it.\n  The isolated child was always made the object of special care, almost\n  as if he were ill. I myself, when I entered the room, went first of\n  all directly to him, as if he were a very little child. Then I turned\n  my attention to the others, interesting myself in their work, asking\n  questions about it as if they had been little men. I do not know what\n  happened in the soul of these children whom we found it necessary to\n  discipline, but certainly the conversion was always very complete and\n  lasting. They showed great pride in learning how to work and how to\n  conduct themselves, and always showed a very tender affection for the\n  teacher and for me.[14]\n\nThe success of this method depended upon several factors not present in\nold-fashioned schools. There was first the elimination of those whose\nbad conduct was due to some medical defect. Then there was tact and\nskill in applying the method. But the really vital point was the good\nconduct of the majority of the class: the child felt itself opposed to\nthe public opinion which it naturally respected. This is, of course,\nan entirely different situation from that of the schoolmaster who has\na class bent on \u201cragging\u201d. I do not propose to discuss the methods\nwhich he should employ, because they would never be needed if education\nwere properly conducted from the start. Children like to learn things,\nprovided they are the right things properly taught. The same mistake\nis made in imparting knowledge as is made, at an earlier stage, in\nregard to food and sleep: something which is really an advantage to\nthe child is made to appear like a favour to the adult. Infants easily\ncome to think that the only reason for eating and sleeping is that\ngrown-ups desire it; this turns them into dyspeptic sufferers from\ninsomnia.[15] Unless a child is ill, let it leave its food and go\nhungry. My boy had been coaxed into eating by his nurse, and had grown\nmore and more _difficile_. One day when we had him for his mid-day\nmeal, he refused to eat his pudding, so we sent it out. After a while,\nhe demanded it back, but it turned out that the cook had eaten it.\nHe was flabbergasted, and never made such pretences with us again.\nExactly the same method should apply to instruction. Those who do not\nwant it should be allowed to go without, though I should see to it\nthat they were bored if they were absent during lesson-time. If they\nsee others learning, they will presently clamour to be taught: the\nteacher can then appear as conferring a benefit, which is the truth\nof the situation. I should have in every school a large bare room to\nwhich pupils could go if they did not want to learn, but if they went\nthere, I should not allow them to come back to lessons that day. And\nthey should be sent there as a punishment if they behaved badly in\nlesson-time. It seems a simple principle that a punishment should be\nsomething you wish the culprit to dislike, not something you wish him\nto like. Yet \u201clines\u201d are a common punishment where the professed aim is\nto produce a love of classical literature.\n\nMild punishments have their utility for dealing with mild offences,\nespecially such as are concerned with manners. Praise and blame are\nan important form of rewards and punishments for young children, and\nalso for older boys and girls if conferred by a person who inspires\nrespect. I do not believe it possible to conduct education without\npraise and blame, but in regard to both a certain degree of caution is\nnecessary. In the first place, neither should be comparative. A child\nshould not be told that he has done better than so-and-so, or that\nsuch-and-such is never naughty: the first produces contempt, the second\nhatred. In the second place, blame should be given much more sparingly\nthan praise; it should be a definite punishment, administered for some\nunexpected lapse from good behaviour, and it should never be continued\nafter it has produced its effect. In the third place, praise should\nnot be given for anything that should be a matter of course. I should\ngive it for a new development of courage or skill, and for an act of\nunselfishness as regards possessions, if achieved after a moral effort.\nAll through education, any unusually good piece of work should be\npraised. To be praised for a difficult achievement is one of the most\ndelightful experiences in youth, and the desire for this pleasure is\nquite proper as an added incentive, though it should not be the main\nmotive. The main motive should always be an interest in the matter\nitself, whatever the matter may happen to be.\n\nGrave faults of character, such as cruelty, can seldom be dealt with\nby means of punishment. Or rather, punishment should be a very small\npart of the treatment. Cruelty to animals is more or less natural to\nboys, and requires, for its prevention, an education _ad hoc_. It is\na very bad plan to wait until you find your boy torturing an animal,\nand then proceed to torture the boy. This only makes him wish he had\nnot been caught. You should watch for the first beginnings of what\nmay afterwards develop into cruelty. Teach the boy respect for life;\ndo not let him see you killing animals, even wasps or snakes. If\nyou cannot prevent it, explain very carefully why it is done in this\nparticular case. If he does something slightly unkind to a younger\nchild, do the same to him at once. He will protest, and you can explain\nthat if he does not want it done to him he must not do it to others.\nIn this way the fact that others have feelings like his own is brought\nvividly to his attention.\n\nIt is obviously essential to this method that it should be begun\nearly, and applied to minor forms of unkindness. It is only very small\ninjuries to others that you can retort in kind upon the child. And when\nyou can adopt this plan, do not let it seem that you are doing it as a\npunishment, but rather as an instruction: \u201cSee, that is what you did to\nyour little sister.\u201d When the child protests, you say: \u201cWell, if it was\nunpleasant, you mustn\u2019t do it to her.\u201d So long as the whole incident\nis simple and immediate, the child will understand, and will learn\nthat other people\u2019s feelings must be considered. In that case, serious\ncruelty will never develop.\n\nAll moral instruction must be immediate and concrete: it must arise\nout of a situation which has grown up naturally, and must not go\nbeyond what ought to be done in this particular instance. The child\nhimself will apply the moral in other similar cases. It is much easier\nto grasp a concrete instance, and apply analogous considerations to\nan analogous instance, than to apprehend a general rule and proceed\ndeductively. Do not say, in a general way, \u201cBe brave, be kind\u201d, but\nurge him to some particular piece of daring, and then say, \u201cBravo, you\nwere a brave boy\u201d; get him to let his sister play with his mechanical\nengine, and when he sees her beaming with delight, say, \u201cThat\u2019s right,\nyou were a kind boy.\u201d The same principle applies in dealing with\ncruelty: Look out for its faint beginnings, and prevent them from\ndeveloping.\n\nIf, in spite of all your efforts, grave cruelty develops at a later\nage, the matter must be taken very seriously, and dealt with like\nan illness. The boy should be punished in the sense that unpleasant\nthings should happen to him, just as they do when he has measles, but\nnot in the sense that he should be made to feel wicked. He should be\nisolated for a while from other children and from animals, and it\nshould be explained to him that it is not safe to let him associate\nwith them. He should be made to realize, as far as possible, how he\nwould suffer if he were cruelly treated. He should be made to feel\nthat a great misfortune had befallen him in the shape of an impulse to\ncruelty, and that his elders were endeavouring to shield him from a\nsimilar misfortune in the future. I believe that such methods would be\ncompletely successful in all except a few pathological cases.\n\nPhysical punishment I believe to be never right. In mild forms, it does\nlittle harm, though no good; in severe forms, I am convinced that it\ngenerates cruelty and brutality. It is true that it often produces no\nresentment against the person who inflicts it; where it is customary,\nboys adapt themselves to it and expect it as part of the course\nof nature. But it accustoms them to the idea that it may be right\nand proper to inflict physical pain for the purpose of maintaining\nauthority--a peculiarly dangerous lesson to teach to those who are\nlikely to acquire positions of power. And it destroys that relation\nof open confidence which ought to exist between parents and children,\nas well as between teachers and pupils. The modern parent wants his\nchildren to be as unconstrained in his presence as in his absence;\nhe wants them to feel pleasure when they see him coming; he does not\nwant a fictitious Sabbath calm while he is watching, succeeded by\npandemonium as soon as he turns his back. To win the genuine affection\nof children is a joy as great as any that life has to offer. Our\ngrandfathers did not know of this joy, and therefore did not know that\nthey were missing it. They taught children that it was their \u201cduty\u201d to\nlove their parents, and proceeded to make this duty almost impossible\nof performance. Caroline, in the verse quoted at the beginning of this\nchapter, can hardly have been pleased when her father went to her, \u201cto\nwhip her, there\u2019s no doubt\u201d. So long as people persisted in the notion\nthat love could be commanded as a duty, they did nothing to win it as a\ngenuine emotion. Consequently human relations remained stark and harsh\nand cruel. Punishment was part of this whole conception. It is strange\nthat men who would not have dreamed of raising their hand against a\nwoman were quite willing to inflict physical torture upon a defenceless\nchild. Mercifully, a better conception of the relations of parents and\nchildren has gradually won its way during the last hundred years, and\nwith it the whole theory of punishment has been transformed. I hope\nthat the enlightened ideas which begin to prevail in education will\ngradually spread to other human relations as well, for they are needed\nthere just as much as in our dealings with our children.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nIMPORTANCE OF OTHER CHILDREN\n\n\nSo far, we have been considering what parents and teachers can do\nthemselves towards creating the right kind of character in a child.\nBut there is a great deal that cannot possibly be done without the\nhelp of other children. This becomes increasingly true as the child\ngets older; indeed contemporaries are never more important than at the\nuniversity. In the first year of life, other children are not important\nat all in the earlier months, and only a slight advantage in the last\nthree months. At that stage, it is slightly older children that are\nuseful. The first child in a family is usually slower in learning\nto walk and talk than subsequent children, because grown-ups are so\nperfect in these accomplishments that they are difficult to imitate. A\nchild of three years old is a better model for a child one year old,\nboth because the things it does are more what the younger child would\nwish to do, and because its powers do not seem so superhuman. Children\nfeel that other children are more akin to them than adults are, and\ntherefore their ambition is more stimulated by what other children\ndo. Only the family provides the opportunity for this early education\nby older children. Most children who have a choice wish to play with\nchildren rather older than themselves, because then they feel \u201cgrand\u201d;\nbut these older children wish to play with still older children, and\nso on. The consequence is that, in a school, or in the streets of a\nslum, or anywhere else where a large choice is possible, children play\nalmost entirely with their contemporaries, because the older ones will\nnot play with the younger ones. In this way it comes about that what\nis to be learnt from older children must be learnt mainly in the home.\nThis has the drawback that in every family there must be one oldest\nchild, who fails to get the benefits of the method. And as families\ngrow smaller, the percentage of oldest children grows larger, so that\nthe drawback is an increasing one. Small families are in some ways a\ndisadvantage to children, unless supplemented by nursery-schools. But\nnursery-schools will form the subject of a later chapter.\n\nOlder children, younger children, and contemporaries all have their\nuses, but the uses of older and younger children, for the reasons\njust given, are mainly confined to the family. The great use of\nolder children is to provide attainable ambitions. A child will make\ntremendous efforts to be thought worthy of joining in an older child\u2019s\ngame. The older child behaves in an offhand natural way, without\nthe consideration and make-believe which is bound to form part of a\ngrown-up person\u2019s games with children. The same lack of consideration\nin a grown-up would be painful, both because the grown-up has power\nand authority, and because he plays to please the child, not to please\nhimself. A child will be cheerfully submissive to an older brother or\nsister, in a way which would be impossible towards an adult except\nas a result of excessive discipline. The lesson of co-operation in a\nsubordinate role is best learnt from other children; when grown-ups try\nto teach it, they are faced with the opposite dangers of unkindness and\npretence--unkindness if they demand real co-operation, pretence if they\nare content with the appearance of it. I do not mean that either real\nor pretence co-operation is to be always avoided, but that it has not\nthe spontaneity which is possible between an older and a younger child,\nand therefore cannot be combined for hours on end with pleasure to both\nparties.\n\nAll through youth, slightly older people continue to have a special use\nin teaching--not formal teaching, but the sort which occurs outside\nworking hours. A slightly older boy or girl remains always a very\neffective stimulus to ambition, and, if kind, can explain difficulties\nbetter than an adult, from the recent recollection of overcoming them.\nEven at the university, I learnt much from people a few years senior\nto me, which I could not have learnt from grave and reverend signors.\nI believe this experience is general wherever the social life of the\nuniversity is not too rigidly stratified by \u201cyears\u201d. It is, of course,\nimpossible where, as too often happens, the older students consider it\n_infra dig_ to have anything to do with the younger ones.\n\nYounger children also have their uses, especially in the years\nfrom three to six; these uses are chiefly in connection with moral\neducation. So long as a child is with adults, it has no occasion for\nthe exercise of a number of important virtues, namely, those required\nby the strong in dealing with the weak. A child has to be taught not\nto take things by force from a younger brother or sister, not to\nshow excessive anger when the junior inadvertently knocks over his\ntower of bricks, not to hoard toys he is not using which the other\ndesires. He has to be taught that the junior can be easily hurt by\nrough handling, and to feel compunction when he has wantonly caused\ntears. In protecting a younger child, one can speak to the senior with\na sharpness and suddenness which would not otherwise be justified,\nbut which have their uses through the strong impression produced by\ntheir unexpectedness. All these are useful lessons, which it is hardly\npossible to give naturally in any other way. It is a folly and a waste\nof time to give abstract moral instruction to a child; everything must\nbe concrete, and actually demanded by the existing situation. Much\nthat, from an adult point of view, is moral education, feels to the\nchild just like instruction in handling a saw. The child feels that he\nis being shown how the thing is done. That is one reason why example is\nso important. A child who has watched a carpenter at work tries to copy\nhis movements; a child who has seen his parents behaving always with\nkindness and consideration tries to copy them in this respect. In each\ncase, prestige is attached to what he wants to imitate. If you gave\nyour child a solemn lesson in the use of a saw, but yourself always\ntried to use it as a chopper, you would never make a carpenter of him.\nAnd if you urge him to be kind to his little sister, but are not kind\nto her yourself, all your instruction will be wasted. For that reason,\nwhen you have to do something that makes a little child cry, such as\ncleaning its nose, you should be careful to explain to the older child\nwhy it is necessary to do it. Otherwise he is quite likely to rise up\nin defence of the younger child, and fight you to make you stop being\ncruel. If you allow him to remain under the impression that you are\ncruel, you will have lost the power to curb his own impulses towards\ntyranny.\n\nAlthough both older and younger children are important, contemporaries\nare far more so, at any rate from the age of four onwards. Behaviour\nto equals is what most needs to be learnt. Most of the inequalities in\nthe existing world are artificial, and it would be a good thing if our\nbehaviour ignored them. Well-to-do people imagine themselves superior\nto their cooks, and behave to them in a different way from that in\nwhich they behave in society. But they feel inferior to a Duke, and\ntreat him in a way which shows a lack of self-respect. In both cases\nthey are wrong: the cook and the Duke should both be felt and treated\nas equals. In youth, age makes a hierarchy which is not artificial;\nbut for that very reason the social habits which will be desirable in\nlater life are best learnt by associating with contemporaries. Games of\nall kinds are better among equals, and so is school competition. Among\nschoolfellows, a boy has that degree of importance which is accorded\nto him by their judgment; he may be admired or despised, but the issue\ndepends upon his own character and prowess. Affectionate parents\ncreate a too indulgent milieu; parents without affection create one\nwhere spontaneity is repressed. It is only contemporaries who can give\nscope for spontaneity in free competition and in equal co-operation.\nSelf-respect without tyranny, consideration without slavishness, can\nbe learnt best in dealing with equals. For these reasons, no amount of\nparental solicitude can give a boy or girl the same advantages at home\nas are to be enjoyed in a good school.\n\nApart from these considerations, there is another, perhaps even more\nimportant. The mind and body of a child demand a great deal of play,\nand after the first years play can hardly be satisfactory except with\nother boys and girls. Without play, a child becomes strained and\nnervous; it loses the joy of life and develops anxieties. It is, of\ncourse, possible to bring up a child as John Stuart Mill was brought\nup, to begin Greek at the age of three, and never know any ordinary\nchildish fun. From the mere standpoint of acquiring knowledge, the\nresults may be good, but taken all round I cannot admire them. Mill\nrelates in his Autobiography that during adolescence he nearly\ncommitted suicide from the thought that all combinations of musical\nnotes would one day be used up, and then new musical composition\nwould become impossible. It is obvious that an obsession of this sort\nis a symptom of nervous exhaustion. In later life, whenever he came\nupon an argument tending to show that his father\u2019s philosophy might\nhave been mistaken, he shied away from it like a frightened horse,\nthereby greatly diminishing the value of his reasoning powers. It\nseems probable that a more normal youth would have given him more\nintellectual resilience, and enabled him to be more original in his\nthinking. However that may be, it would certainly have given him more\ncapacity for enjoying life. I was myself the product of a solitary\neducation up to the age of sixteen--somewhat less fierce than Mill\u2019s,\nbut still too destitute of the ordinary joys of youth. I experienced in\nadolescence just the same tendency to suicide as Mill describes--in my\ncase, because I thought the laws of dynamics regulated the movements\nof my body, making the will a mere delusion. When I began to associate\nwith contemporaries, I found myself an angular prig. How far I have\nremained so, it is not for me to say.\n\nIn spite of all the above arguments, I am prepared to admit that there\nare a certain number of boys and girls who ought not to go to school,\nand that some of them are very important individuals. If a boy has\nabnormal mental powers in some direction, combined with poor physique\nand great nervousness, he may be quite incapable of fitting into a\ncrowd of normal boys, and may be so persecuted as to be driven mad.\nExceptional capacities are not infrequently associated with mental\ninstability, and in such cases it is desirable to adopt methods which\nwould be bad for the normal boy. Care should be taken to find out if\nabnormal sensitiveness has some definite cause, and patient efforts\nshould be made to cure it. But these efforts should never involve\nterrible suffering, such as an abnormal boy may easily have to endure\nfrom brutal companions. I think such sensitiveness generally has\nits source in mistakes during infancy, which have upset the child\u2019s\ndigestion or its nerves. Given wisdom in handling infants, I think\nalmost all of them would grow into boys and girls sufficiently normal\nto enjoy the company of other boys and girls. Nevertheless, some\nexceptions will occur, and they may easily occur among those who have\nsome form of genius. In these rare cases, school is undesirable, and a\nmore sheltered youth is to be preferred.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nAFFECTION AND SYMPATHY\n\n\nMany readers may think that I have hitherto unaccountably neglected\naffection, which is, in some sense, the essence of a good character.\nI hold that love and knowledge are the two main requisites for right\naction, yet, in dealing with moral education, I have hitherto said\nnothing about love. My reason has been that the right sort of love\nshould be the natural fruit resulting from the proper treatment of the\ngrowing child, rather than something consciously aimed at throughout\nthe various stages. We have to be clear as to the kind of affection to\nbe desired, and as to the disposition appropriate to different ages.\nFrom ten or twelve years old until puberty, a boy is apt to be very\ndestitute of affection, and there is nothing to be gained by trying\nto force his nature. Throughout youth, there is less occasion for\nsympathy than in adult life, both because there is less power of giving\neffective expression to it, and because a young person has to think of\nhis or her own training for life, largely to the exclusion of other\npeople\u2019s interests. For these reasons, we should be more concerned to\nproduce sympathetic and affectionate adults than to force a precocious\ndevelopment of these qualities in early years. Our problem, like all\nproblems in the education of character, is a scientific one, belonging\nto what may be called psychological dynamics. Love cannot exist as\na duty: to tell a child that it _ought_ to love its parents and its\nbrothers and sisters is utterly useless, if not worse. Parents who wish\nto be loved must behave so as to elicit love, and must try to give to\ntheir children those physical and mental characteristics which produce\nexpansive affections.\n\nNot only must children not be commanded to love their parents, but\nnothing must be done which has this result as its object. Parental\naffection, at its best, differs from sex-love in this respect. It is\nof the essence of sex-love to seek a response, as is natural, since,\nwithout a response, it cannot fulfil its biological function. But it\nis not of the essence of parental love to seek a response. The natural\nunsophisticated parental instinct feels towards the child as towards\nan externalized part of the parent\u2019s body. If your great toe is out\nof order, you attend to it from self-interest, and you do not expect\nit to feel grateful. The savage woman, I imagine, has a very similar\nfeeling towards her child. She desires its welfare in just the same\nway as she desires her own, especially while it is still very young.\nShe has no more sense of self-denial in looking after the child than\nin looking after herself; and for that very reason she does not look\nfor gratitude. The child\u2019s need of her is sufficient response so long\nas it is helpless. Later, when it begins to grow up, her affection\ndiminishes and her demands may increase. In animals, parental affection\nceases when the child is adult, and no demands are made upon it; but\nin human beings, even if they are very primitive, this is not the\ncase. A son who is a lusty warrior is expected to feed and protect his\nparents when they are old and decrepit; the story of \u00c6neas and Anchises\nembodies this feeling at a higher level of culture. With the growth\nof foresight, there is an increasing tendency to exploit children\u2019s\naffections for the sake of their help when old age comes. Hence the\nprinciple of filial piety, which has existed throughout the world and\nis embodied in the Fifth Commandment. With the development of private\nproperty and ordered government, filial piety becomes less important;\nafter some centuries, people become aware of this fact, and the\nsentiment goes out of fashion. In the modern world, a man of fifty may\nbe financially dependent upon a parent of eighty, so that the important\nthing is still the affection of the parent for the child rather than\nof the child for the parent. This, of course, applies chiefly to\nthe propertied classes; among wage-earners, the older relationship\npersists. But even there it is being gradually displaced as a result\nof old-age pensions and similar measures. Affection of children for\nparents, therefore, is ceasing to deserve a place among cardinal\nvirtues, while affection of parents for children remains of enormous\nimportance.\n\nThere is another set of dangers, which has been brought to the fore by\nthe psycho-analysts, though I think their interpretation of the facts\nmay be questioned. The dangers I am thinking of are those connected\nwith undue devotion to one or other parent. An adult, and even an\nadolescent, ought not to be so overshadowed by either father or mother\nas to be unable to think or feel independently. This may easily happen\nif the personality of the parent is stronger than that of the child. I\ndo not believe that there is, except in rare morbid cases, an \u201c\u0152dipus\nComplex\u201d, in the sense of a special attraction of sons to mothers and\ndaughters to fathers. The excessive influence of the parent, where\nit exists, will belong to the parent who has had most to do with the\nchild--generally the mother--without regard to difference of sex. Of\ncourse, it may happen that a daughter who dislikes her mother and sees\nlittle of her father will idealize the latter; but in that case the\ninfluence is exerted by dreams, not by the actual father. Idealization\nconsists of hanging hopes to a peg: the peg is merely convenient,\nand has nothing to do with the nature of the hopes. Undue parental\ninfluence is quite a different thing from this, since it is connected\nwith the actual person, not with an imaginary portrait.\n\nAn adult with whom a child is in constant contact may easily become so\ndominant in the child\u2019s life as to make the child, even in later life,\na mental slave. The slavery may be intellectual, or emotional, or both.\nA good example of the former is John Stuart Mill, who could never bring\nhimself, in the last resort, to admit that his father might have been\nmistaken. To some degree, intellectual slavery to early environment is\nnormal; very few adults are capable of opinions other than those taught\nby parents or teachers, except where there is some general drift that\ncarries them along. The children of Mohammedans are Mohammedans, the\nchildren of Buddhists are Buddhists, and so on. It may be maintained\nthat intellectual slavery is natural and normal; I am inclined to\nadmit that it can only be avoided by an education _ad hoc_. This form\nof excessive parental and scholastic influence ought to be avoided\ncarefully, since, in a rapidly changing world, it is exceedingly\ndangerous to retain the opinions of a by-gone generation. But for the\npresent I shall consider only slavery of the emotions and the will,\nsince that is more directly bound up with our present topic.\n\nThe evils considered by psycho-analysts under the heading \u201c\u0152dipus\nComplex\u201d (which I regard as misleading) arise from an undue desire on\nthe part of parents for an emotional response from their children.\nAs I said a moment ago, I believe that the parental instinct in its\npurity does not desire an emotional response; it is satisfied by the\ndependence of the young, and the fact that they look to parents for\nprotection and food. When the dependence ceases, parental affection\nalso ceases. This is the state of affairs among animals, and for their\npurposes it is entirely satisfactory. But such simplicity of instinct\nis scarcely possible for human beings. I have already considered\nthe effect of military and economic considerations, as shown in\nthe preaching of filial piety. I am now concerned with two purely\npsychological sources of confusion in the working of the parental\ninstinct.\n\nThe first of these is of a sort which occurs wherever intelligence\nobserves the pleasures to be derived from instinct. Broadly speaking,\ninstinct prompts pleasant acts which have useful consequences, but the\nconsequences may not be pleasant. Eating is pleasant, but digestion\nis not--especially when it is indigestion. Sex is pleasant, but\nparturition is not. The dependence of an infant is pleasant, but the\nindependence of a vigorous grown-up son is not. The primitive maternal\ntype of woman derives most pleasure from the infant at the breast, and\ngradually less pleasure as the child grows less helpless. There is\ntherefore a tendency, for the sake of pleasure, to prolong the period\nof helplessness, and to put off the time when the child can dispense\nwith parental guidance. This is recognized in conventional phrases,\nsuch as being \u201ctied to his mother\u2019s apron-strings\u201d. It was thought\nimpossible to deal with this evil in boys except by sending them away\nto school. In girls it was not recognized as an evil, because (if they\nwere well-to-do) it was thought desirable to make them helpless and\ndependent, and it was hoped that after marriage they would cling to\ntheir husbands as they had formerly clung to their mothers. This seldom\nhappened, and its failure gave rise to the \u201cmother-in-law\u201d joke. One\nof the purposes of a joke is to prevent thought--a purpose in which\nthis particular joke was highly successful. No one seemed to realize\nthat a girl brought up to be dependent would naturally be dependent\nupon her mother, and therefore could not enter into that whole-hearted\npartnership with a man which is the essence of a happy marriage.\n\nThe second psychological complication comes nearer to the orthodox\nFreudian point of view. It arises where elements appropriate to\nsex-love enter into parental affection. I do not mean anything\nnecessarily dependent upon difference of sex; I mean merely the\ndesire for a certain kind of emotional response. Part of the\npsychology of sex--that part, in fact, which has made monogamy a\npossible institution--is the desire to come first for some one, to\nfeel that oneself is more important than any other human being to\nthe happiness of at least one person in the world. When this desire\nhas produced marriage, it will only produce happiness if a number\nof other conditions are realized. For one reason or another, a very\nlarge proportion of married women in civilized countries fail to have\na satisfying sex-life. When this happens to a woman, she is apt to\nseek from her children an illegitimate and spurious gratification of\ndesires which only men can gratify adequately and naturally. I do not\nmean anything obvious: I mean merely a certain emotional tension, a\ncertain passionateness of feeling, a pleasure in kissing and fondling\nto excess. These things used to be thought quite right and proper in\nan affectionate mother. Indeed, the difference between what is right\nand what is harmful is very subtle. It is absurd to maintain, as some\nFreudians do, that parents ought not to kiss and fondle their children\nat all. Children have a right to warm affection from their parents; it\ngives them a happy, care-free outlook upon the world, and is essential\nto healthy psychological development. But it should be something that\nthey take for granted, like the air they breathe, not something to\nwhich they are expected to respond. It is this question of response\nthat is the essence of the matter. There will be a certain spontaneous\nresponse, which is all to the good; but it will be quite different\nfrom the active pursuit of friendship from childish companions.\nPsychologically, parents should be a background, and the child should\nnot be made to act with a view to giving his parents pleasure. Their\npleasure should consist in his growth and progress; anything that he\ngives them in the way of response should be accepted gratefully as a\npure extra, like fine weather in spring, but should not be expected as\npart of the order of nature.\n\nIt is very difficult for a woman to be a perfect mother, or a perfect\nteacher of young children, unless she is sexually satisfied. Whatever\npsycho-analysts may say, the parental instinct is essentially different\nfrom the sex instinct, and is damaged by the intrusion of emotions\nappropriate to sex. The habit of employing celibate female teachers\nis quite wrong psychologically. The right woman to deal with children\nis a woman whose instinct is not seeking from them satisfactions for\nherself which they ought not to be expected to provide. A woman who\nis happily married will belong to this type without effort; but any\nother woman will need an almost impossible subtlety of self-control. Of\ncourse, the same thing applies to men in the same circumstances, but\nthe circumstances are far less frequent with men, both because their\nparental instincts are usually not very strong, and because they are\nseldom sexually starved.\n\nIt is as well to be clear in our own thoughts as regards the attitude\nwe are to expect from children to parents. If parents have the right\nkind of love for their children, the children\u2019s response will be just\nwhat the parents desire. The children will be pleased when their\nparents come, and sorry when they go, unless they are absorbed in\nsome agreeable pursuit; they will look to their parents for help in\nany trouble, physical or mental, that may arise; they will dare to be\nadventurous, because they rely upon their parents\u2019 protection in the\nbackground--but this feeling will be hardly conscious except in moments\nof peril. They will expect their parents to answer their questions,\nresolve their perplexities, and help them in difficult tasks. Most of\nwhat their parents do for them will not enter into their consciousness.\nThey will like their parents, not for providing their board and\nlodging, but for playing with them, showing them how to do new things,\nand telling them stories about the world. They will gradually realize\nthat their parents love them, but this ought to be accepted as a\nnatural fact. The affection that they feel for their parents will be\nquite a different kind from that which they feel for other children.\nThe parent must act with reference to the child, but the child must act\nwith reference to himself and the outer world. That is the essential\ndifference. The child has no important function to perform in relation\nto his parents. His function is to grow in wisdom and stature, and so\nlong as he does so a healthy parental instinct is satisfied.\n\nI should be very sorry to convey the impression that I want to diminish\nthe amount of affection in family life, or the spontaneity of its\nmanifestations. That is not at all what I mean. What I do mean is that\nthere are different kinds of affection. The affection of husband and\nwife is one thing, that of parents for children is another, and that\nof children for parents is yet another. The harm comes when these\ndifferent kinds of natural affection are confused. I do not think the\nFreudians have arrived at the truth, because they do not recognize\nthese instinctive differences. And this makes them, in a sense, ascetic\nas regards parents and children, because they view any love between\nthem as a sort of inadequate sex-love. I do not believe in the need of\nany fundamental self-denial, provided there are no special unfortunate\ncircumstances. A man and woman who love each other and their children\nought to be able to act spontaneously as the heart dictates. They will\nneed much thought and knowledge, but these they will acquire out of\nparental affection. They must not demand from their children what they\nget from each other, but if they are happy in each other they will feel\nno impulse to do so. If the children are properly cared for, they will\nfeel for their parents a natural affection which will be no barrier to\nindependence. What is needed is not ascetic self-denial, but freedom\nand expansiveness of instinct, adequately informed by intelligence and\nknowledge.\n\nWhen my boy was two years and four months old, I went to America, and\nwas absent three months. He was perfectly happy in my absence, but was\nwild with joy when I returned. I found him waiting impatiently by the\ngarden gate; he seized my hand, and began showing me everything that\nspecially interested him. I wanted to hear, and he wanted to tell; I\nhad no wish to tell, and he had none to hear. The two impulses were\ndifferent, but harmonious. When it comes to stories, he wishes to hear\nand I wish to tell, so that again there is harmony. Only once has this\nsituation been reversed. When he was three years and six months old,\nI had a birthday, and his mother told him that everything was to be\ndone to please me. Stories are his supreme delight; to our surprise,\nwhen the time for them came, he announced that he was going to tell\nme stories, as it was my birthday. He told about a dozen, then jumped\ndown, saying \u201cno more stories to-day\u201d. That was three months ago, but\nhe has never told stories again.\n\nI come now to the wider question of affection and sympathy in general.\nAs between parents and children, there are complications owing to the\npossibility of abuse of power by parents; it was necessary to deal with\nthese complications before attacking the general question.\n\nThere is no possible method of _compelling_ a child to feel sympathy or\naffection; the only possible method is to observe the conditions under\nwhich these feelings arise spontaneously, and then endeavour to produce\nthe conditions. Sympathy, undoubtedly, is partly instinctive. Children\nare worried when their brothers or sisters cry, and often cry too. They\nwill take their part vehemently against the grown-ups when disagreeable\nthings are being done to them. When my boy had a wound on his elbow\nwhich had to be dressed, his sister (aged eighteen months) could hear\nhim crying in another room, and was very much upset. She kept on\nrepeating \u201cJonny crying, Jonny crying\u201d, until the painful business was\nfinished. When my boy saw his mother extracting a thorn with a needle\nfrom her foot, he said anxiously, \u201cIt doesn\u2019t hurt, Mummy\u201d. She said\nit did, wishing to give him a lesson in not making a fuss. He insisted\nthat it didn\u2019t hurt, whereupon she insisted that it did. He then burst\ninto sobs, just as vehement as if it had been his own foot. Such\noccurrences must spring from instinctive physical sympathy. This is the\nbasis upon which more elaborate forms of sympathy must be built. It is\nclear that nothing further is needed in the way of positive education\nexcept to bring home to the child the fact that people and animals\ncan feel pain, and do feel it under certain circumstances. There is,\nhowever, a further negative condition: the child must not see people he\nrespects committing unkind or cruel actions. If the father shoots or\nthe mother speaks rudely to the maids, the child will catch these vices.\n\nIt is a difficult question how and when to make a child aware of the\nevil in the world. It is impossible to grow up ignorant of wars and\nmassacres and poverty and preventable disease which is not prevented.\nAt some stage, the child must know of these things, and must combine\nthe knowledge with a firm conviction that it is a dreadful thing to\ninflict, or even permit, any suffering which can be avoided. We are\nhere confronted by a problem similar to that which faces people who\nwish to preserve female chastity; these people formerly believed in\nignorance till marriage, but now adopt more positive methods.\n\nI have known some pacifists who wished history taught without reference\nto wars, and thought that children should be kept as long as possible\nignorant of the cruelty in the world. But I cannot praise the \u201cfugitive\nand cloistered virtue\u201d that depends upon absence of knowledge. As soon\nas history is taught at all, it should be taught truthfully. If true\nhistory contradicts any moral we wish to teach, our moral must be\nwrong, and we had better abandon it. I quite admit that many people,\nincluding some of the most virtuous, find facts inconvenient, but that\nis due to a certain feebleness in their virtue. A truly robust morality\ncan only be strengthened by the fullest knowledge of what really\nhappens in the world. We must not run the risk that the young people\nwhom we have educated in ignorance will turn to wickedness with delight\nas soon as they discover that there is such a thing. Unless we can give\nthem an aversion from cruelty, they will not abstain from it; and they\ncannot have an aversion from it if they do not know that it exists.\n\nNevertheless, the right way of giving children a knowledge of evil is\nnot easily found. Of course, those who live in the slums of big cities\nget to know early all about drunkenness, quarrels, wife-beating, and\nso on. Perhaps this does them no harm, if it is counteracted by other\ninfluences; but no careful parent would deliberately expose a very\nyoung child to such sights. I think the great objection is that they\nrouse fear so vividly as to colour the whole of the rest of life. A\nchild, being defenceless, cannot help feeling terror when it first\nunderstands that cruelty to children is possible. I was about fourteen\nwhen I first read \u201cOliver Twist\u201d, but it filled me with emotions of\nhorror which I could scarcely have borne at an earlier age. Dreadful\nthings should not be known to young people until they are old enough\nto face them with a certain poise. This moment will come sooner with\nsome children than with others: those who are imaginative or timid must\nbe sheltered longer than those who are stolid or endowed with natural\ncourage. A mental habit of fearlessness due to expectation of kindness\nshould be firmly established before the child is made to face the\nexistence of unkindness. To choose the moment and the manner requires\ntact and understanding; it is not a matter which can be decided by a\nrule.\n\nThere are, however, certain maxims which should be followed. To\nbegin with, stories such as Bluebeard and Jack the Giant Killer do\nnot involve any knowledge of cruelty whatever, and do not raise the\nproblems we are considering. To the child, they are purely fantastic,\nand he never connects them with the real world in any way. No doubt the\npleasure he derives from them is connected with savage instincts, but\nthese are harmless as mere play-impulses in a powerless child, and they\ntend to die down as the child grows older. But when the child is first\nintroduced to cruelty as a thing in the real world, care must be taken\nto choose incidents in which he will identify himself with the victim,\nnot with the torturer. Something savage in him will exult in a story\nin which he identifies himself with the tyrant; a story of this kind\ntends to produce an imperialist. But the story of Abraham preparing\nto sacrifice Isaac, or of the she-bears killing the children whom\nElisha cursed, naturally rouses the child\u2019s sympathy for another child.\nIf such stories are told, they should be told as showing the depths\nof cruelty to which men could descend long ago. I once, as a child,\nheard a sermon of an hour\u2019s duration, entirely devoted to proving that\nElisha was right in cursing the children. Fortunately, I was old\nenough to think the parson a fool; otherwise I should have been driven\nnearly mad with terror. The story of Abraham and Isaac was even more\ndreadful, because it was the child\u2019s father who was cruel to him. When\nsuch stories are told with the assumption that Abraham and Elisha were\nvirtuous, they must either be ignored or utterly debase a child\u2019s moral\nstandards. But when told as an introduction to human wickedness, they\nserve a purpose, because they are vivid, remote, and untrue. The story\nof Hubert putting out little Arthur\u2019s eyes, in \u201cKing John\u201d, may be used\nin the same way.\n\nThen history may be taught, with all its wars. But in telling about\nwars, sympathy at first should be with the defeated. I should begin\nwith battles in which it is natural to feel on the side of the beaten\nparty--for instance, the battle of Hastings in teaching an English boy.\nI should emphasize always the wounds and suffering produced. I should\ngradually lead the child to feel no partisanship in reading about wars,\nand to regard both sides as silly men who had lost their tempers, and\nought to have had nurses to put them to bed till they were good. I\nshould assimilate wars to quarrels among the children in the nursery.\nIn this way, I believe children could be made to see the truth about\nwar, and to realize that it is silly.\n\nIf any actual instance of unkindness or cruelty comes under the child\u2019s\nnotice, it should be fully discussed, with all the moral values which\nthe adult himself attaches to the incident, and always with the\nsuggestion that the people who acted cruelly were foolish, and did not\nknow any better because they had not been well brought up. But I should\nnot call the child\u2019s attention to such things in his real world, if\nthey were not spontaneously observed by him, until after he had grown\nfamiliar with them in history and stories. Then I should gradually\nintroduce him to a knowledge of evil in his surroundings. But I should\nalways give him the feeling that the evil can be combated, and results\nfrom ignorance and lack of self-control and bad education. I should not\nencourage him to be indignant with malefactors, but rather to regard\nthem as bunglers, who do not know in what happiness consists.\n\nThe cultivation of wide sympathies, given the instinctive germ, is\nmainly an intellectual matter: it depends upon the right direction\nof attention, and the realization of facts which militarists and\nauthoritarians suppress. Take, for example, Tolstoy\u2019s description of\nNapoleon going round the battlefield of Austerlitz after the victory.\nMost histories leave the battlefield as soon as the battle is over;\nby the simple expedient of lingering on it for another twelve hours,\na completely different picture of war is produced. This is done, not\nby suppressing facts, but by giving more facts. And what applies to\nbattles applies equally to other forms of cruelty. In all cases, it\nshould be quite unnecessary to point the moral; the right telling of\nthe story should be sufficient. Do not moralize, but let the facts\nproduce their own moral in the child\u2019s mind.\n\nIt remains to say a few words about affection, which differs from\nsympathy in being inevitably and essentially selective. I have spoken\nalready of affection between parents and children; it is affection\nbetween equals that I now wish to consider.\n\nAffection cannot be created; it can only be liberated. There is a kind\nof affection which is partly rooted in fear; affection for parents has\nthis element, since parents afford protection. In childhood affections\nof this sort are natural, but in later life they are undesirable, and\neven in childhood affection for other children is not of this sort.\nMy little girl is intensely devoted to her brother, although he is\nthe only person in her world who ever treats her unkindly. Affection\nas to an equal, which is the best kind, is much more likely to exist\nwhere there is happiness and absence of fear. Fears, conscious or\nunconscious, are very apt to produce hatred, because other people\nare regarded as capable of inflicting injuries. With most people,\nas things are, envy is a barrier to wide-spread affection. I do not\nthink envy can be prevented except by happiness; moral discipline is\npowerless to touch its subconscious forms. Happiness, in turn, is\nlargely prevented by fear. Young people who have a chance of happiness\nare deterred by parents and \u201cfriends\u201d, nominally on moral grounds,\nbut really from envy. If the young people have enough fearlessness,\nthey will ignore the croakers; otherwise, they will allow themselves\nto be made miserable, and join the company of envious moralists. The\neducation of character that we have been considering is designed to\nproduce happiness and courage; I think, therefore, that it does what is\npossible to liberate the springs of affection. More than this cannot\nbe done. If you tell children that they ought to be affectionate, you\nrun the risk of producing cant and humbug. But if you make them happy\nand free, if you surround them with kindness, you will find that they\nbecome spontaneously friendly with everybody, and that almost everybody\nresponds by being friendly with them. A trustful affectionate\ndisposition justifies itself, because it gives irresistible charm,\nand creates the response which it expects. This is one of the most\nimportant results to be expected from the right education of character.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nSEX EDUCATION\n\n\nThe subject of sex is so surrounded by superstitions and taboos that\nI approach it with trepidation. I fear lest those readers who have\nhitherto accepted my principles may suspect them when they are applied\nin this sphere; they may have admitted readily enough that fearlessness\nand freedom are good for a child, and yet desire, where sex is\nconcerned, to impose slavery and terror. I cannot so limit principles\nwhich I believe to be sound, and I shall treat sex exactly as I have\ntreated the other impulses which make up a human character.\n\nThere is one respect in which, quite independently of taboos, sex is\npeculiar, and that is the late ripening of the instinct. It is true,\nas the psycho-analysts have pointed out (though with considerable\nexaggeration), that the instinct is not absent in childhood. But its\nchildish manifestations are different from those of adult life, and\nits strength is much less, and it is physically impossible for a boy\nto indulge it in the adult manner. Puberty remains an important\nemotional crisis, thrust into the middle of intellectual education, and\ncausing disturbances which raise difficult problems for the educator.\nMany of these problems I shall not attempt to discuss; it is chiefly\nwhat should be done before puberty that I propose to consider. It is\nin this respect that educational reform is most needed, especially in\nvery early childhood. Although I disagree with the Freudians in many\nparticulars, I think they have done a very valuable service in pointing\nout the nervous disorders produced in later life by wrong handling of\nyoung children in matters connected with sex. Their work has already\nproduced wide-spread beneficial results in this respect, but there is\nstill a mass of prejudice to be overcome. The difficulty is, of course,\ngreatly increased by the practice of leaving children, during their\nfirst years, largely in the hands of totally uneducated women, who\ncannot be expected to know, still less to believe, what has been said\nby learned men in the long words necessary to escape prosecution for\nobscenity.\n\nTaking our problems in chronological order, the first that confronts\nmothers and nurses is that of masturbation. Competent authorities\nstate that this practice is all but universal among boys and girls in\ntheir second and third years, but usually ceases of itself a little\nlater on. Sometimes it is rendered more pronounced by some definite\nphysical irritation which can be removed. (It is not my province to\ngo into medical details.) But it usually exists even in the absence\nof such special reasons. It has been the custom to view it with\nhorror, and to use dreadful threats with a view to stopping it. As a\nrule these threats do not succeed, although they are believed; the\nresult is that the child lives in an agony of apprehension, which\npresently becomes dissociated from its original cause (now repressed\ninto the unconscious), but remains to produce nightmares, nervousness,\ndelusions and insane terrors. Left to itself, infantile masturbation\nhas, apparently, no bad effect upon health[16], and no discoverable\nbad effect upon character; the bad effects which have been observed in\nboth respects are, it seems, wholly attributable to attempts to stop\nit. Even if it were harmful, it would be unwise to issue a prohibition\nwhich is not going to be observed; and from the nature of the case, it\nis impossible to make sure that the child will not continue after you\nhave forbidden him to do so. If you do nothing, the probability is that\nthe practice will soon be discontinued. But if you do anything, you\nmake it much less likely that it will cease, and you lay the foundation\nof terrible nervous disorders. Therefore, difficult as it may be,\nthe child should be let alone in this respect. I do not mean that you\nshould abstain from methods other than prohibition, in so far as they\nare available. Let him be sleepy when he goes to bed, so that he will\nnot lie awake long. Let him have some favourite toy in bed, which may\ndistract his attention. Such methods are quite unobjectionable. But if\nthey fail, do not resort to prohibition, or even call his attention to\nthe fact that he indulges in the practice. Then it will probably cease\nof itself.\n\nSexual curiosity normally begins during the third year, in the shape\nof an interest in the physical differences between men and women, and\nbetween adults and children. By nature, this curiosity has no special\nquality in early childhood, but is simply a part of general curiosity.\nThe special quality which it is found to have in children who are being\nconventionally brought up is due to the grown-up practice of making\nmysteries. When there is no mystery, the curiosity dies down as soon as\nit is satisfied. A child should, from the first, be allowed to see his\nparents and brothers and sisters without their clothes whenever it so\nhappens naturally. No fuss should be made either way; he should simply\nnot know that people have feelings about nudity. (Of course, later\non he will have to know.) It will be found that the child presently\nnotices the differences between his father and mother, and connects\nthem with the differences between brothers and sisters. But as soon as\nthe subject has been explored to this extent, it becomes uninteresting,\nlike a cupboard that is often open. Of course, any questions the child\nmay ask during this period must be answered just as questions on other\ntopics would be answered.\n\nAnswering questions is a major part of sex education. Two rules cover\nthe ground. First, always give a truthful answer to a question;\nsecondly, regard sex knowledge as exactly like any other knowledge. If\nthe child asks you an intelligent question about the sun or the moon\nor the clouds, or about motor-cars or steam-engines, you are pleased,\nand you tell him as much as he can take in. This answering of questions\nis a very large part of early education. But if he asks you a question\nconnected with sex, you will be tempted to say, \u201chush, hush\u201d. If you\nhave learnt not to do that, you will still answer briefly and dryly,\nperhaps with a trifle of embarrassment in your manner. The child\nat once notices the _nuance_, and you have laid the foundations of\nprurience. You must answer with just the same fulness and naturalness\nas if the question had been about something else. Do not allow yourself\nto feel, even unconsciously, that there is something horrid and dirty\nabout sex. If you do, your feeling will communicate itself to him. He\nwill think, necessarily, that there is something nasty in the relations\nof his parents; later on, he will conclude that they think ill of the\nbehaviour which led to his existence. Such feelings in youth make happy\ninstinctive emotions almost impossible, not only in youth, but in adult\nlife also.\n\nIf the child has a brother or sister born when he is old enough to ask\nquestions about it, say after the age of three, tell him that the child\ngrew in his mother\u2019s body, and tell him that he grew in the same way.\nLet him see his mother suckling the child, and be told that the same\nthing happened to him. All this, like everything else connected with\nsex, must be told without solemnity, in a purely scientific spirit. The\nchild must not be talked to about \u201cthe mysterious and sacred functions\nof motherhood\u201d; the whole thing must be utterly matter-of-fact.\n\nIf no addition to the family occurs when the child is old enough to ask\nquestions about it, the subject is likely to arise out of being told\n\u201cthat happened before you were born\u201d. I find my boy still hardly able\nto grasp that there was a time when he did not exist; if I talk to him\nabout the building of the Pyramids or some such topic, he always wants\nto know what he was doing then, and is merely puzzled when he is told\nthat he did not exist. Sooner or later he will want to know what \u201cbeing\nborn\u201d means, and then we shall tell him.\n\nThe share of the father in generation is less likely to come up\nnaturally in answer to questions, unless the child lives on a farm.\nBut it is very important that the child should know of this first from\nparents or teacher, not from children whom bad education has made\nnasty. I remember vividly being told all about it by another boy when I\nwas twelve years old; the whole thing was treated in a ribald spirit,\nas a topic for obscene jokes. That was the normal experience of boys in\nmy generation. It followed naturally that the vast majority continued\nthrough life to think sex comic and nasty, with the result that they\ncould not respect a woman with whom they had intercourse, even though\nshe were the mother of their children. Parents pursued a cowardly\npolicy of trusting to luck, although fathers must have remembered how\nthey gained their first knowledge. How it can have been supposed that\nsuch a system helped sanity or sound morals, I cannot imagine. Sex\nmust be treated from the first as natural, delightful and decent. To\ndo otherwise is to poison the relations of men and women, parents and\nchildren. Sex is at its best between a father and mother who love each\nother and their children. It is far better that children should first\nknow of sex in the relations of their parents than that they should\nderive their first impressions from ribaldry. It is particularly bad\nthat they should discover sex between their parents as a guilty secret\nwhich has been concealed from them.\n\nIf there were no likelihood of being taught badly about sex by other\nchildren, the matter could be left to the natural operation of the\nchild\u2019s curiosity, and parents could confine themselves to answering\nquestions--always provided that everything became known before puberty.\nThis, of course, is absolutely essential. It is a cruel thing to let\na boy or girl be overtaken by the physical and emotional changes of\nthat time without preparation, and possibly with the feeling of being\nattacked by some dreadful disease. Moreover, the whole subject of sex,\nafter puberty, is so electric that a boy or girl cannot listen in a\nscientific spirit, which is perfectly possible at an earlier age.\nTherefore, quite apart from the possibility of nasty talk, a boy or\ngirl should know the nature of the sexual act before attaining puberty.\n\nHow long before this the information should be given depends upon\ncircumstances. An inquisitive and intellectually active child must be\ntold sooner than a sluggish child. There must at no time be unsatisfied\ncuriosity. However young the child may be, he must be told if he asks.\nAnd his parents\u2019 manner must be such that he will ask if he wants to\nknow. But if he does not ask spontaneously, he must in any case be\ntold before the age of ten, for fear of being first told by others in\na bad way. It may therefore be desirable to stimulate his curiosity by\ninstruction about generation in plants and animals. There must not be\na solemn occasion, a clearing of the throat, and an exordium: \u201cNow, my\nboy, I am going to tell you something that it is time for you to know.\u201d\nThe whole thing must be ordinary and every-day. That is why it comes\nbest in answer to questions.\n\nI suppose it is unnecessary at this date to argue that boys and girls\nmust be treated alike. When I was young, it was still quite common\nfor a \u201cwell-brought-up\u201d girl to marry before knowing anything about\nthe nature of marriage, and to have to learn it from her husband; but\nI have not often heard of such a thing in recent years. I think most\npeople recognize nowadays that a virtue dependent upon ignorance is\nworthless, and that girls have the same right to knowledge as boys. If\nthere are any who still fail to recognize this, they are not likely to\nread the present work, so that it is not worth while to argue with them.\n\nI do not propose to discuss the teaching of sexual morality in the\nnarrower sense. This is a matter as to which a variety of opinions\nexist. Christians differ from Mohammedans, Catholics from Protestants\nwho tolerate divorce, freethinkers from medi\u00e6valists. Parents will all\nwish their children taught the particular brand of sexual morality\nin which they believe themselves, and I should not wish the State to\ninterfere with them. But without going into vexed questions, there is a\ngood deal that might be common ground.\n\nThere is first of all hygiene. Young people must know about venereal\ndisease before they run the risk of it. They should be taught about it\ntruthfully, without the exaggerations which some people practise in the\ninterests of morals. They should learn both how to avoid it, and how\nto cure it. It is a mistake to give only such instruction as is needed\nby the perfectly virtuous, and to regard the misfortunes which happen\nto others as a just punishment of sin. We might as well refuse to help\na man who has been injured in a motoring accident, on the ground that\ncareless driving is a sin. Moreover, in the one case as in the other,\nthe punishment may fall upon the innocent; no one can maintain that\nchildren born with syphilis are wicked, any more than that a man is\nwicked if a careless motorist runs over him.\n\nYoung people should be led to realize that it is a very serious matter\nto have a child, and that it should not be undertaken unless the child\nhas a reasonable prospect of health and happiness. The traditional view\nwas that, within marriage, it is always justifiable to have children,\neven if they come so fast that the mother\u2019s health is ruined, even\nif the children are diseased or insane, even if there is no prospect\nof their having enough to eat. This view is now only maintained by\nheartless dogmatists, who think that everything disgraceful to humanity\nredounds to the glory of God. People who care for children, or do not\nenjoy inflicting misery upon the helpless, rebel against the ruthless\ndogmas which justify this cruelty. A care for the rights and importance\nof children, with all that is implied, should be an essential part of\nmoral education.\n\nGirls should be taught to expect that one day they are likely to be\nmothers, and they should acquire some rudiments of the knowledge that\nmay be useful to them in that capacity. Of course both boys and girls\nought to learn something of physiology and something of hygiene.\nIt should be made clear that no one can be a good parent without\nparental affection, but that even with parental affection a great deal\nof knowledge is required as well. Instinct without knowledge is as\ninadequate in dealing with children as knowledge without instinct. The\nmore the necessity of knowledge is understood, the more intelligent\nwomen will feel attracted to motherhood. At present, many highly\neducated women despise it, thinking that it does not give scope for the\nexercise of their intellectual faculties; this is a great misfortune,\nsince they are capable of being the best mothers, if their thoughts\nwere turned in that direction.\n\nOne other thing is essential in teaching about sex-love. Jealousy\nmust not be regarded as a justifiable insistence upon rights, but as\na misfortune to the one who feels it and a wrong towards its object.\nWhere possessive elements intrude upon love, it loses its vivifying\npower and eats up personality; where they are absent, it fulfils\npersonality and brings a greater intensity of life. In former days,\nparents ruined their relations with their children by preaching love\nas a duty; husbands and wives still too often ruin their relations\nto each other by the same mistake. Love cannot be a duty, because it\nis not subject to the will. It is a gift from heaven, the best that\nheaven has to bestow. Those who shut it up in a cage destroy the beauty\nand joy which it can only display while it is free and spontaneous.\nHere, again, fear is the enemy. He who fears to lose what makes the\nhappiness of his life has already lost it. In this, as in other things,\nfearlessness is the essence of wisdom.\n\nFor this reason, in teaching my own children, I shall try to prevent\nthem from learning a moral code which I regard as harmful. Some people\nwho themselves hold liberal views are willing that their children\nshall first acquire conventional morals, and become emancipated only\nlater, if at all. I cannot agree to this, because I hold that the\ntraditional code not only forbids what is innocent, but also commends\nwhat is harmful. Those who have been taught conventionally will almost\ninevitably believe themselves justified in indulging jealousy when\noccasion arises; moreover they will probably be obsessed by sex either\npositively or negatively. I shall not teach that faithfulness to our\npartner through life is in any way desirable, or that a permanent\nmarriage should be regarded as excluding temporary episodes. So long as\njealousy is regarded as virtuous, such episodes cause grave friction;\nbut they do not do so where a less restrictive morality is accepted\non both sides. Relations involving children should be permanent if\npossible, but should not necessarily on that account be exclusive.\nWhere there is mutual freedom and no pecuniary motive, love is good;\nwhere these conditions fail, it may often be bad. It is because they\nfail so frequently in the conventional marriage that a morality which\nis positive rather than restrictive, based upon hope rather than fear,\nis compelled, if it is logical, to disagree with the received code in\nmatters of sex. And there can be no excuse for allowing our children\nto be taught a morality which we ourselves believe to be pernicious.\n\nFinally, the attitude displayed by parents and teachers towards sex\nshould be scientific, not emotional or dogmatic. For example, when it\nis said of a mother speaking to her daughter; \u201cLet her tell nature\u2019s\nplan, _in a spirit of reverence_\u201d; and of a father instructing his\nson: \u201cThe father should, in a spirit of reverence, explain nature\u2019s\nplan for the starting of a new life\u201d--such sayings may be passed over\nby the reader as embodying nothing questionable. But to my mind there\nshould be no more occasion for \u201creverence\u201d than in explaining the\nconstruction of a steam-engine. \u201cReverence\u201d means a special tone of\nvoice from which the boy or girl infers that there is some peculiar\nquality about sex. From this to prurience and indecency is only a\nstep. We shall never secure decency in matters of sex until we cease\nto treat the subject as different from any other. It follows that we\nmust not advance dogmas for which there is no evidence, and which most\nimpartial students question, such as: \u201cAfter maturity is reached the\nideal social relationship of the sexes is _monogamous_ wedlock, to\nwhich relationship both parties should live in absolute fidelity\u201d (ib.\np. 310). This proposition may or may not be true; at present there is\ncertainly no evidence sufficient to _prove_ it true. By teaching it as\nsomething unquestionable, we abandon the scientific attitude, and do\nwhat we can to inhibit rational thought upon a most important matter.\nSo long as this dogmatism persists in teachers, it is not to be hoped\nthat their pupils will apply reason to any question upon which they\nfeel strongly. And the only alternative to reason is violence.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nTHE NURSERY-SCHOOL\n\n\nIn previous chapters, I have tried to give an outline of what can be\ndone for the young child in the way of creating the habits which will\ngive happiness and usefulness in later life. But I have not discussed\nthe question whether parents are to give this training, or whether\nit is to be given in schools designed for the purpose. I think the\narguments in favour of the nursery-school are quite overwhelming--not\nonly for children whose parents are poor, ignorant, and overworked,\nbut for all children, or, at the very least, for all children who live\nin towns. I believe that the children at Miss Margaret McMillan\u2019s\nnursery-school in Deptford get something better than any children of\nwell-to-do parents can at present obtain. I should like to see the\nsame system extended to all children, rich and poor alike. But before\ndiscussing any actual nursery-school, let us see what reasons there are\nfor desiring such an institution.\n\nTo begin with, early childhood is of immeasurable importance both\nmedically and psychologically. These two aspects are very closely\nintertwined. For example: fear will make a child breathe badly, and\nbreathing badly will predispose it to a variety of diseases.[17] Such\ninterrelations are so numerous that no one can hope to succeed with a\nchild\u2019s character without some medical knowledge, or with its health\nwithout some psychology. In both directions, most of the knowledge\nrequired is very new, and much of it runs counter to time-honoured\ntraditions. Take for example the question of discipline. The great\nprinciple in a contest with a child is: do not yield, but do not\npunish. The normal parent sometimes yields for the sake of a quiet\nlife, and sometimes punishes from exasperation; the right method, to\nbe successful, requires a difficult combination of patience and power\nof suggestion. This is a psychological example; fresh air is a medical\nexample. Given care and wisdom, children profit by constant fresh air,\nday and night, with not too much clothing. But if care and wisdom are\nabsent, the risk of chills from wet or sudden cold cannot be ignored.\n\nParents cannot be expected to possess the skill or the leisure required\nfor the new and difficult art of dealing with young children. In\nthe case of uneducated parents, this is obvious; they do not know\nthe right methods, and if they were taught them they would remain\nunconvinced. I live in an agricultural district by the sea, where\nfresh food is easy to obtain, and there are no extremes of heat or\ncold; I chose it largely because it is ideal for children\u2019s health.\nYet almost all the children of the farmers, shopkeepers, and so on,\nare pasty-faced languid creatures, because they are indulged in food\nand disciplined in play. They never go to the beach, because wet feet\nare thought dangerous. They wear thick woollen coats out-of-doors even\nin the hottest summer weather. If their play is noisy, steps are taken\nto make their behaviour \u201cgenteel\u201d. But they are allowed to stay up\nlate, and are given all kinds of unwholesome tit-bits of grown-up food.\nTheir parents cannot understand why my children have not died of cold\nand exposure long ago; but no object lesson will convince them that\ntheir own methods are capable of improvement. They are neither poor\nnor lacking in parental affection, but they are obstinately ignorant\nowing to bad education. In the case of town parents who are poor and\noverworked, the evils are of course far greater.\n\nBut even in the case of parents who are highly educated, conscientious,\nand not too busy, the children cannot get as much of what they need\nas in a nursery-school. First and foremost, they do not get the\ncompanionship of other children of the same age. If the family is\nsmall, as such families usually are, the children may easily get too\nmuch attention from their elders, and may become nervous and precocious\nin consequence. Moreover, parents cannot have the experience of\nmultitudes of children which gives a sure touch. And only the rich can\nprovide the space and the environment that best suits young children.\nSuch things, if provided privately for one family of children,\nproduce pride of possession and a feeling of superiority, which are\nextraordinarily harmful morally. For all these reasons, I believe\nthat even the best parents would do well to send their children to a\nsuitable school from the age of two onwards, at least for part of the\nday--provided such a school existed in their neighbourhood.\n\nThere are, at present, two kinds of schools, according to the status\nof the parents. There are Froebel schools and Montessori schools for\nwell-to-do-children, and there are a small number of nursery-schools\nfor very poor children. Of the latter, the most famous is Miss\nMcMillan\u2019s, of which the above-mentioned book gives an account which\nshould be read by every lover of children. I am inclined to think that\nno existing school for well-to-do children is as good as hers, partly\nbecause she has larger numbers, partly because she is not troubled by\nthe fussiness which middle-class snobbery obtrudes upon teachers. She\naims at keeping children, if possible, from one year old till seven,\nthough the education authorities incline to the view that the children\nought to go to an ordinary elementary school at the age of five.\nThe children come at eight in the morning, and stay till six in the\nevening; they have all their meals in the school. They spend as much as\npossible of their time out-of-doors, and indoors they have an abnormal\namount of fresh air. Before a child is admitted, he or she is medically\nexamined, and if possible cured at the clinic or in the hospital if\nnot healthy. After admission, the children become and remain healthy\nwith very few exceptions. There is a large, lovely garden, and a good\ndeal of the time is spent in playing there. The teaching is broadly on\nMontessori lines. After dinner the children all sleep. In spite of the\nfact that at night, and on Sundays, they have to be in poverty-stricken\nhomes, perhaps in cellars with drunken parents, their physique and\nintelligence become equal to the best that middle-class children\nachieve. Here is Miss McMillan\u2019s account of her seven-year-old pupils:\n\n  They are nearly all tall, straight children. All are straight,\n  indeed, if not tall, but the average is a big, well-made child with\n  clean skin, bright eyes, and silky hair. He or she is a little\n  above the average of the best type of well-to-do child of the upper\n  middle class. So much for his or her physique. Mentally he is alert,\n  sociable, eager for life and new experience. He can read and spell\n  perfectly, or almost perfectly. He writes well and expresses himself\n  easily. He speaks good English and also French. He can not only help\n  himself, but he or she has for years helped younger children: and\n  he can count and measure and design and has had some preparation\n  for science. His first years were spent in an atmosphere of love\n  and calm and _fun_, and his last two years were full of interesting\n  experiences and experiment. He knows about a garden, and has planted\n  and watered, and taken care of plants as well as animals. The\n  seven-year-old can dance, too, and sing and play many games. Such\n  are the children who will soon present themselves in thousands at\n  the Junior Schools\u2019 doors. What is to be done with them? I want to\n  point out, first of all, that the elementary school teachers\u2019 work\n  will be changed by this sudden uprush of clean and strong young life\n  from below. Either the Nursery-School will be a paltry thing, that\n  is to say a new failure, or else it will soon influence not only\n  elementary schools but also the secondary. It will provide a new kind\n  of children to be educated, and this must react sooner or later, not\n  only on all the schools, but on all our social life, on the kind of\n  government and laws framed for the people, and on the relation of our\n  nation to other nations.\n\nI do not think these claims exaggerated. The nursery-school, if it\nbecame universal, could, in one generation, remove the profound\ndifferences in education which at present divide the classes, could\nproduce a population all enjoying the mental and physical development\nwhich is now confined to the most fortunate, and could remove the\nterrible dead-weight of disease and stupidity and malevolence which\nnow makes progress so difficult. Under the Education Act of 1918,\nnursery-schools were to have been promoted by Government money;\nbut when the Geddes Axe descended it was decided that it was more\nimportant to build cruisers and the Singapore Dock for the purpose\nof facilitating war with the Japanese. At the present moment, the\nGovernment is spending a million a year to induce people to poison\nthemselves with preservatives in Canadian butter rather than eat pure\nbutter from Denmark. To secure this end, our children are condemned to\ndisease and misery and unawakened intelligence, from which multitudes\ncould be saved by a million a year spent on nursery-schools. The\nmothers now have the vote; will they some day learn to use it for the\ngood of their children?[18]\n\nApart from these wider considerations, what has to be realized is that\nthe right care of young children is highly skilled work, which parents\ncannot hope to do satisfactorily, and that it is quite different work\nfrom school-teaching in later years. To quote Miss McMillan again:\n\n  The Nursery child has a fairly good physique. Not only do his\n  neighbours in the slums fall far short of him: his \u201cbetters\u201d in good\n  districts, the middle-class children, of a very good type, fall\n  short of him. It is clear that something more than parental love\n  and \u201cparental responsibility\u201d are wanted. Rules of thumb have all\n  broken down. \u201cParental love\u201d without knowledge has broken down. Child\n  nurture has not broken down. It is very highly skilled work.\n\nAs regards the finances:\n\n  A Nursery-School of 100 children can be run to-day at an annual cost\n  of \u00a312 per head, and of this sum the parents in the poorest quarters\n  can pay one-third. A Nursery-School staffed by students will cost\n  more, but the greater part of the increased cost would be paid as\n  fees and maintenance of future teachers. An open-air nursery and\n  training centre, numbering in all about 100 children and thirty\n  students, costs as nearly as makes no difference \u00a32,200 per annum.\n\nOne more quotation:\n\n  One great result of the Nursery-School will be that the children\n  can get faster through the curriculum of to-day. When they are\n  half or two-thirds through the present elementary school life they\n  will be ready to go on to more advanced work.... In short, the\n  Nursery-School, if it is a _real_ place of nurture, and not merely\n  a place where babies are \u201cminded\u201d till they are five, will affect\n  our whole educational system very powerfully and very rapidly. It\n  will quickly raise the possible level of culture and attainment in\n  all schools, beginning with the junior schools. It will prove that\n  this welter of disease and misery in which we live, and which makes\n  the doctor\u2019s service loom bigger than the teacher\u2019s, can be swept\n  away. It will make the heavy walls, the terrible gates, the hard\n  playground, the sunless and huge class-room look monstrous, as they\n  are. It will give teachers a chance.\n\nThe nursery-school occupies an intermediate position between early\ntraining of character and subsequent giving of instruction. It carries\non both at once, and each by the help of the other, with instruction\ngradually taking a larger share as the child grows older. It was in\ninstitutions having a similar function that Madame Montessori perfected\nher methods. In certain large tenement houses in Rome, a large room\nwas set apart for the children between three and seven, and Madame\nMontessori was put in charge of these \u201cChildren\u2019s Houses\u201d.[19] As\nin Deptford, the children came from the very poorest section of the\npopulation; as in Deptford, the results showed that early care can\novercome the physical and mental disadvantages of a bad home.\n\nIt is remarkable that, ever since the time of S\u00e9guin, progress in\neducational methods with young children has come from study of idiots\nand the feeble-minded, who are, in certain respects, still mentally\ninfants. I believe the reason for the necessity of this detour was that\nthe stupidities of mental patients were not regarded as blameworthy,\nor as curable by chastisement; no one thought that Dr. Arnold\u2019s recipe\nof flogging would cure their \u201claziness\u201d. Consequently they were\ntreated scientifically, not angrily; if they failed to understand,\nno irate pedagogue stormed at them and told them they ought to be\nashamed of themselves. If people could have brought themselves to take\na scientific instead of a moralizing attitude towards children, they\ncould have discovered what is now known about the way to educate them\nwithout first having to study the mentally deficient. The conception\nof \u201cmoral responsibility\u201d is \u201cresponsible\u201d for much evil. Imagine two\nchildren, one of whom has the good fortune to be in a nursery-school,\nwhile the other is left to unalleviated slum-life. Is the second\nchild \u201cmorally responsible\u201d if he grows up less admirable than the\nfirst? Are his parents \u201cmorally responsible\u201d for the ignorance and\ncarelessness which makes them unable to educate him? Are the rich\n\u201cmorally responsible\u201d for the selfishness and stupidity which have been\ndrilled into them at expensive schools, and which make them prefer\ntheir own foolish luxuries to the creation of a happy community? All\nare victims of circumstances; all have had characters warped in infancy\nand intelligence stunted at school. No good purpose is served by\nchoosing to regard them as \u201cmorally responsible\u201d, and holding them up\nto reprobation because they have been less fortunate than they might\nhave been.\n\nThere is only one road to progress, in education as in other human\naffairs, and that is: Science wielded by love. Without science, love\nis powerless; without love, science is destructive. All that has been\ndone to improve the education of little children has been done by\nthose who loved them; all has been done by those who knew all that\nscience could teach on the subject. This is one of the benefits we\nderive from the higher education of women: in former days, science\nand love of children were much less likely to coexist. The power of\nmoulding young minds which science is placing in our possession is a\nvery terrible power, capable of deadly misuse; if it falls into the\nwrong hands, it may produce a world even more ruthless and cruel than\nthe haphazard world of nature. Children may be taught to be bigoted,\nbellicose, and brutal, under the pretence that they are being taught\nreligion, patriotism, and courage, or communism, proletarianism, and\nrevolutionary ardour. The teaching must be inspired by love, and must\naim at creating love in the children. If not, it will become more\nefficiently harmful with every improvement in scientific technique.\nLove for children exists in the community as an effective force; this\nis shown by the lowering of the infant death-rate and the improvement\nof education. It is still far too weak, or our politicians would not\ndare to sacrifice the life and happiness of innumerable children to\ntheir nefarious schemes of bloodshed and oppression; but it exists and\nis increasing. Other forms of love, however, are strangely lacking.\nThe very individuals who lavish care on children cherish passions\nwhich expose those same children, in later life, to death in wars\nwhich are mere collective insanities. Is it too much to hope that love\nmay gradually be extended from the child to the man he will become?\nWill the lovers of children learn to follow their later years with\nsomething of the same parental solicitude? Having given them strong\nbodies and vigorous minds, shall we let them use their strength and\nvigour to create a better world? Or, when they turn to this work, shall\nwe recoil in terror, and plunge them back into slavery and drill?\nScience is ready for either alternative; the choice is between love and\nhate, though hate is disguised beneath all the fine phrases to which\nprofessional moralists do homage.\n\n\n\n\nPART III\n\nINTELLECTUAL EDUCATION\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nGENERAL PRINCIPLES\n\n\nThe building up of character, which has been our theme hitherto, should\nbe mainly a matter for the earlier years. If rightly conducted, it\nought to be nearly complete by the age of six. I do not mean that a\ncharacter cannot be spoilt after that age; there is no age at which\nuntoward circumstances or environment will not do harm. What I mean is\nthat, after the age of six, a boy or girl who has been given the right\nearly training ought to have habits and desires which will lead in the\nright direction if a certain care is taken with the environment. A\nschool composed of boys and girls rightly brought up during their first\nsix years will constitute a good environment, given a modicum of good\nsense in the authorities; it ought not to be necessary to give much\ntime or thought to moral questions, since such further virtues as are\nrequired ought to result naturally from purely intellectual training. I\ndo not mean to assert this pedantically as an absolute rule, but as a\nprinciple guiding school authorities as regards the matters upon which\nthey ought to lay emphasis. I am convinced that, if children up to\nthe age of six have been properly handled, it is best that the school\nauthorities should lay stress upon purely intellectual progress, and\nshould rely upon this to produce the further development of character\nwhich is still desirable.\n\nIt is a bad thing for intelligence, and ultimately for character, to\nlet instruction be influenced by moral considerations. It should not\nbe thought that some knowledge is harmful and some ignorance is good.\nThe knowledge which is imparted should be imparted for an intellectual\npurpose, not to prove some moral or political conclusion. The purpose\nof the teaching should be, from the pupil\u2019s point of view, partly to\nsatisfy his curiosity, partly to give him the skill required in order\nthat he may be able to satisfy his curiosity for himself. From the\nteacher\u2019s point of view, there must also be the stimulation of certain\nfruitful kinds of curiosity. But there must never be discouragement of\ncuriosity, even if it takes directions which lie outside the school\ncurriculum altogether. I do not mean that the curriculum should be\ninterrupted, but that the curiosity should be regarded as laudable, and\nthe boy or girl should be told how to satisfy it after school hours, by\nmeans of books in the library for example.\n\nBut at this point I shall be met by an argument which must be faced at\nthe outset. What if a boy\u2019s curiosity is morbid or perverted? What if\nhe is interested in obscenity or in accounts of tortures? What if he is\nonly interested in prying into other people\u2019s doings? Are such forms of\ncuriosity to be encouraged? In answering this question, we must make a\ndistinction. Most emphatically, we are not to behave so that the boy\u2019s\ncuriosity shall continue to be limited to these directions. But it does\nnot follow that we are to make him feel wicked for wishing to know\nabout such things, or that we are to struggle to keep knowledge of them\naway from him. Almost always, the whole attraction of such knowledge\nconsists in the fact that it is forbidden; in a certain number of\ncases, it is connected with some pathological mental condition which\nneeds medical treatment. But in no case is prohibition and moral horror\nthe right treatment. As the commonest and most important case, let\nus take an interest in obscenity. I do not believe that such a thing\ncould exist in a boy or girl to whom sex knowledge was just like any\nother knowledge. A boy who obtains possession of indecent pictures is\nproud of his skill in having done so, and of knowing what his less\nenterprising companions have failed to find out. If he had been told\nopenly and decently all about sex, he would feel no interest in such\npictures. If, nevertheless, a boy were found to have such an interest,\nI should have him treated by a doctor skilled in these matters. The\ntreatment should begin by encouraging him to utter freely even his\nmost shocking thoughts, and should continue with a flood of further\ninformation, growing gradually more technical and scientific, until\nthe whole matter bored him to extinction. When he felt that there was\nnothing more to know, and that what he did know was uninteresting, he\nwould be cured. The important point is that the knowledge in itself\nis not bad, but only the habit of brooding on one particular topic.\nAn obsession is not cured, at first, by violent efforts to distract\nattention, but rather by a plethora of the subject. Through this, the\ninterest can be made scientific instead of morbid; and when that has\nbeen achieved, it takes its legitimate place among other interests, and\nceases to be an obsession. This, I am convinced, is the right way to\ndeal with a narrow and morbid curiosity. Prohibition and moral horror\ncan only make it worse.\n\nAlthough improvement of character should not be the aim of instruction,\nthere are certain qualities which are very desirable, and which are\nessential to the successful pursuit of knowledge; they may be called\nthe intellectual virtues. These should result from intellectual\neducation; but they should result as needed in learning, not as virtues\npursued for their own sakes. Among such qualities the chief seem to me:\ncuriosity, open-mindedness, belief that knowledge is possible though\ndifficult, patience, industry, concentration and exactness. Of these,\ncuriosity is fundamental; where it is strong and directed to the right\nobjects, all the rest will follow. But perhaps curiosity is not quite\nso active as to be made the basis of the whole intellectual life.\nThere should always also be a desire to _do_ something difficult; the\nknowledge which is acquired should appear in the pupil\u2019s mind as skill,\njust like skill in games or gymnastics. It is, I suppose, unavoidable\nthat the skill should be in part merely that required for artificial\nschool tasks; but wherever it can be made to appear necessary for\nsome non-scholastic purpose which appeals to the pupil, something\nvery important has been accomplished. The divorce of knowledge from\nlife is regrettable, although, during school years, it is not wholly\navoidable. Where it is hardest to avoid, there should be occasional\ntalks about the utility of the knowledge in question--taking \u201cutility\u201d\nin a very broad sense. Nevertheless, I should allow a large place to\npure curiosity, without which much of the most valuable knowledge (for\ninstance, pure mathematics) would never have been discovered. There is\nmuch knowledge which seems to me valuable on its own account, quite\napart from any use to which it is capable of being put. And I should\nnot wish to encourage the young to look too closely for an ulterior\npurpose in all knowledge; disinterested curiosity is natural to the\nyoung, and is a very valuable quality. It is only where it fails that\nI should appeal to the desire for skill such as can be exhibited in\npractice. Each motive has its place, but neither should be allowed to\npush the other aside.\n\nI am aware that I have been assuming that some knowledge is desirable\non its own account, not merely on account of its utility. This view\nis often challenged. I find it said by Professor O\u2019Shea[20] that in\nEuropean and Oriental schools \u201ca person is not regarded as educated,\nor at least not cultured, unless he has amassed a considerable body of\nknowledge of ancient flavour. But in our country we are rapidly coming\nto the view that culture does not depend upon the mere possession of\nfacts, whether ancient or modern. The cultured individual is one who\nhas acquired knowledge and skill which make him of service to society,\nand habits of conduct which make him agreeable in association with\nhis fellows.[21] Knowledge which does not function in the life of\nthe individual in his relations with others, to-day is not regarded\nby American teachers as of value for culture any more than for\ndisciplinary purposes.\u201d\n\nOf course this account of how the Old World regards culture is a\ncaricature. No one would maintain that _mere_ knowledge of facts\nconfers culture. But it would be argued that culture implies a certain\nfreedom from parochialism, both in space and time, and that this\ninvolves a respect for excellence even if it is found in another\ncountry or another age. We are apt to exaggerate our superiority not\nonly to foreigners, but to the men of former times, and this makes\nus contemptuous of everything in which they were better than we are,\nwhich includes the whole \u00e6sthetic side of life. And I should say that\nculture involves a certain power of contemplation, for thinking or\nfeeling without rushing headlong into energetic action. This leads\nme to a certain hesitation in adopting the theory of what is called\n\u201cdynamic\u201d education, which \u201crequires pupils actually to _do_ what they\nare learning\u201d (ib. p. 401). Undoubtedly this method is right with\nyoung children, but education is not complete until more abstract\nand intellectual methods have become possible. To \u201cdo\u201d the nebular\nhypothesis or the French Revolution would take a long time, not to\nmention danger from the guillotine. A person who has been adequately\neducated has learned to extract the meaning from abstractions when\nnecessary, and to manipulate them as abstractions so long as that will\nserve his purpose. A mathematician who had to stop to realize the\nmeaning of each step in his transformations would never get through\nhis work; the essential merit of his instrument is that it can be\nused without this labour. In higher education, therefore, the dynamic\nmethod seems inadequate. I cannot help thinking that its popularity in\nAmerica is partly due to the notion that all excellence consists in\ndoing, rather than in thinking and feeling. This notion is implicit in\nthe definition of culture which I quoted just now, and is natural in\na mechanical age, since a machine can only do, and is not expected to\nthink or feel. But the assimilation of men to machines, whatever may\nbe thought of it metaphysically, is hardly likely to give us a just\nstandard of values.\n\nOpen-mindedness is a quality which will always exist where desire for\nknowledge is genuine. It only fails where other desires have become\nentangled with the belief that we already know the truth. That is why\nit is so much commoner in youth than in later life. A man\u2019s activities\nare almost necessarily bound up with some decision on an intellectually\ndoubtful matter. A clergyman cannot be disinterested about theology,\nnor a soldier about war. A lawyer is bound to hold that criminals\nought to be punished--unless they can afford a leading lawyer\u2019s fee. A\nschoolmaster will favour the particular system of education for which\nhe is fitted by his training and experience. A politician can hardly\nhelp believing in the principles of the party which is most likely to\ngive him office. When once a man has chosen his career, he cannot be\nexpected to be perpetually considering whether some other choice might\nnot have been better. In later life, therefore, open-mindedness has its\nlimitations, though they ought to be as few as possible. But in youth\nthere are far fewer of what William James called \u201cforced options\u201d,\nand therefore there is less occasion for the \u201cwill to believe\u201d. Young\npeople ought to be encouraged to regard every question as open, and to\nbe able to throw over any opinion as the result of an argument. It is\nimplied in this freedom of thought that there should not be complete\nfreedom of action. A boy must not be free to run off to sea under the\ninfluence of some story of adventure in the Spanish Main. But so long\nas his education continues, he should be free to _think_ that it is\nbetter to be a pirate than a professor.\n\nPower of concentration is a very valuable quality, which few people\nacquire except through education. It is true that it grows naturally,\nto a considerable extent, as young people get older; very young\ninfants seldom think of any one thing for more than a few minutes, but\nwith every year that passes their attention grows less volatile until\nthey are adult. Nevertheless, they are hardly likely to acquire enough\nconcentration without a long period of intellectual education. There\nare three qualities which distinguish perfect concentration: it should\nbe intense, prolonged, and voluntary. Intensity is illustrated by the\nstory of Archimedes, who is said to have never noticed when the Romans\ncaptured Syracuse and came to kill him, because he was absorbed in a\nmathematical problem. To be able to concentrate on the same matter for\na considerable time is essential to difficult achievement, and even to\nthe understanding of any complicated or abstruse subject. A profound\nspontaneous interest brings this about naturally, so far as the object\nof interest is concerned. Most people can concentrate on a mechanical\npuzzle for a long time; but this is not in itself very useful. To be\nreally valuable, the concentration must also be within the control\nof the will. By this I mean that, even where some piece of knowledge\nis uninteresting in itself, a man can force himself to acquire it if\nhe has an adequate motive for doing so. I think it is above all the\ncontrol of attention by the will that is conferred by higher education.\nIn this one respect, an old-fashioned education is admirable; I\ndoubt whether modern methods are as successful in teaching a man to\nendure voluntary boredom. However, if this defect does exist in modern\neducational practice, it is by no means irremediable. The matter is one\nto which I shall return later.\n\nPatience and industry ought to result from a good education. It was\nformerly thought that they could only be secured, in most cases, by the\nenforcement of good habits imposed by external authority. Undoubtedly\nthis method has some success, as may be seen when a horse is broken\nin. But I think it is better to stimulate the ambition required for\novercoming difficulties, which can be done by grading the difficulties\nso that the pleasure of success may at first be won fairly easily.\nThis gives experience of the rewards of persistence, and gradually\nthe amount of persistence required can be increased. Exactly similar\nremarks apply to the belief that knowledge is difficult but not\nimpossible, which is best generated by inducing the pupil to solve a\nseries of carefully graded problems.\n\nExactness, like the voluntary control of attention, is a matter\nto which educational reformers perhaps tend to attach too little\nimportance. Dr. Ballard (_op. cit._ Chap. XVI) states definitely that\nour elementary schools, in this respect, are not so good as they were,\nalthough in most respects they are vastly improved. He says: \u201cThere\nis in existence a large number of tests given to school-children in\nthe annual examinations of the \u2019eighties and early \u2019nineties, and the\nresults of those tests were scheduled for purposes of grant.[22] When\nthose same tests are set to-day to children of the same age the results\nare palpably and consistently worse. Account for it as we may, there\ncan be no doubt whatever about the fact. Taken as a whole, the work\ndone in our schools--our primary schools at least--is less accurate\nthan it was a quarter of a century ago.\u201d Dr. Ballard\u2019s whole discussion\nof this subject is so excellent that I have little to add to it. I\nwill, however, quote his concluding words: \u201cAfter all deductions have\nbeen made, it [accuracy] is still a noble and inspiring ideal. It is\nthe morality of the intellect: it prescribes what it ought to strive\nfor in the pursuit of its own proper ideal. For the extent to which we\nare accurate in our thoughts, words, and deeds is a rough measure of\nour fealty to truth.\u201d\n\nThe difficulty which is felt by the advocate of modern methods is\nthat accuracy, as hitherto taught, involves boredom, and that it is\nan immense gain if education can be made interesting. Here, however,\nwe must make a distinction. Boredom merely imposed by the teacher\nis wholly bad; boredom voluntarily endured by the pupil in order to\nsatisfy some ambition is valuable if not overdone. It should be part\nof education to fire pupils with desires not easily gratified--to know\nthe calculus, to read Homer, to perform well on the violin, or what\nnot. Each of these involves its own kind of accuracy. Able boys and\ngirls will go through endless tedium and submit willingly to severe\ndiscipline in order to acquire some coveted knowledge or skill. Those\nwho have less native ability can often be fired by similar ambitions\nif they are inspiringly taught. The driving force in education should\nbe the pupil\u2019s wish to learn, not the master\u2019s authority; but it does\nnot follow that education should be soft and easy and pleasant at\nevery stage. This applies, in particular, to the question of accuracy.\nThe acquisition of exact knowledge is apt to be wearisome, but it\nis essential to every kind of excellence, and this fact can be made\nobvious to a child by suitable methods. In so far as modern methods\nfail in this respect, they are at fault. In this matter, as in many\nothers, reaction against the old bad forms of discipline has tended to\nan undue laxity, which will have to give place to a new discipline,\nmore internal and psychological than the old external authority. Of\nthis new discipline, accuracy will be the intellectual expression.\n\nThere are various kinds of accuracy, each of which has its own\nimportance. To take the main kinds: There is muscular accuracy,\n\u00e6sthetic accuracy, accuracy as to matter-of-fact, and logical accuracy.\nEvery boy or girl can appreciate the importance of muscular accuracy\nin many directions; it is required for the control of the body which a\nhealthy child spends all its spare time in acquiring, and afterwards\nfor the games upon which prestige depends. But it has other forms\nwhich have more to do with school-teaching, such as well-articulated\nspeech, good writing, and correct performance on a musical instrument.\nA child will think these things important or unimportant according\nto his environment. \u00c6sthetic accuracy is difficult to define; it\nhas to do with the appropriateness of a sensible stimulus for the\nproduction of emotion. One way of teaching an important form of it is\nto cause children to learn poetry by heart--_e.g._, Shakespeare, for\npurposes of acting--and to make them feel, when they make mistakes,\nwhy the original is better. I believe it would be found that, where\n\u00e6sthetic sensibility is wide-spread, children are taught conventional\nstereotyped performances, such as dances and songs, which they enjoy,\nbut which must be done exactly right on account of tradition. This\nmakes them sensitive to small differences, which is essential to\naccuracy. Acting, singing, and dancing seem to me the best methods of\nteaching \u00e6sthetic precision. Drawing is less good, because it is likely\nto be judged by its fidelity to the model, not by \u00e6sthetic standards.\nIt is true that stereotyped performances also are expected to reproduce\na model, but it is a model created by \u00e6sthetic motives; it is copied\nbecause it is good, not because copying is good.\n\nAccuracy as to matter-of-fact is intolerably boring when pursued on its\nown account. Learning the dates of the kings of England, or the names\nof the counties and their capitals, used to be one of the terrors of\nchildhood. It is better to secure accuracy by interest and repetition.\nI could never remember the list of capes, but at eight years old I knew\nalmost all the stations on the Underground. If children were shown a\ncinema representing a ship sailing round the coast, they would soon\nknow the capes. I don\u2019t think they are worth knowing, but if they\nwere, that would be the way to teach them. All geography ought to be\ntaught on the cinema; so ought history at first. The initial expense\nwould be great, but not too great for governments. And there would be a\nsubsequent economy in ease of teaching.\n\nLogical accuracy is a late acquisition, and should not be forced upon\nyoung children. Getting the multiplication table right is, of course,\naccuracy as to matter-of-fact; it only becomes logical accuracy at a\nmuch later stage. Mathematics is the natural vehicle for this teaching,\nbut it fails if allowed to appear as a set of arbitrary rules. Rules\nmust be learnt, but at some stage the reasons for them must be made\nclear; if this is not done, mathematics has little educative value.\n\nI come now to a question which has already arisen in connection with\nexactness, the question, namely, how far it is possible or desirable\nto make all instruction interesting. The old view was that a great\ndeal of it must be dull, and that only stern authority will induce the\naverage boy to persist. (The average girl was to remain ignorant.) The\nmodern view is that it can be made delightful through and through. I\nhave much more sympathy with the modern view than with the old one;\nnevertheless, I think it is subject to some limitations, especially in\nhigher education. I shall begin with what I think true in it.\n\nModern writers on infant psychology all emphasize the importance of not\nurging a young child to eat or sleep: these things ought to be done\nspontaneously by the child, not as a result of coaxing or forcing. My\nown experience entirely bears out this teaching. At first, we did not\nknow the newer teaching, and tried the older methods. They were very\nunsuccessful, whereas the modern methods succeeded perfectly. It must\nnot be supposed, however, that the modern parent does nothing about\neating and sleeping; on the contrary, everything possible is done to\npromote the formation of good habits. Meals come at regular times, and\nthe child must sit through them without games whether he eats or not.\nBed comes at regular times, and the child must lie down in bed. He may\nhave a toy animal to hug, but not one that squeaks or runs or does\nanything exciting. If the animal is a favourite, one may play the game\nthat the animal is tired and the child must put it to sleep. Then leave\nthe child alone, and sleep will usually come very quickly. But never\nlet the child think you are anxious he should sleep or eat. That at\nonce makes him think you are asking a favour; this gives him a sense of\npower, which leads him to demand more and more coaxing or punishment.\nHe should eat and sleep because he wants to, not to please you.\n\nThis psychology is obviously applicable in great measure to\ninstruction. If you insist upon teaching a child, he will conclude that\nhe is being asked to do something disagreeable to please you, and he\nwill have a psychological resistance. If this exists at the start, it\nwill perpetuate itself; at a later age, the desirability of getting\nthrough examinations may become evident, and there will be work for\nthat purpose, but none from sheer interest in knowledge. If, on the\ncontrary, you can first stimulate the child\u2019s desire to know, and then,\nas a favour, give him the knowledge he wants, the whole situation\nis different. Very much less external discipline is required, and\nattention is secured without difficulty. To succeed in this method,\ncertain conditions are necessary, which Madame Montessori successfully\nproduces among the very young. The tasks must be attractive and not\ntoo difficult. There must, at first, be the example of other children\nat a slightly more advanced stage. There must be no other obviously\npleasant occupation open to the child at the moment. There are a number\nof things the child may do, and he works by himself at whichever he\nprefers. Almost all children are perfectly happy in this r\u00e9gime, and\nlearn to read and write without pressure before they are five years old.\n\nHow far similar methods can advantageously be applied to older children\nis a debatable question. As children grow older, they become responsive\nto more remote motives, and it is no longer necessary that every detail\nshould be interesting in itself. But I think the broad principle that\nthe impulse to education should come from the pupil can be continued\nup to any age. The environment should be such as to stimulate the\nimpulse, and to make boredom and isolation the alternative to learning.\nBut any child that preferred this alternative on any occasion should be\nallowed to choose it. The principle of individual work can be extended,\nthough a certain amount of class-work seems indispensable after the\nearly years. But if external authority is necessary to induce a boy or\ngirl to learn, unless there is a medical cause, the probability is that\nthe teacher is at fault or that previous moral training has been bad.\nIf a child has been properly trained up to the age of five or six, any\ngood teacher ought to be able to win his interest at later stages.\n\nIf this is possible, the advantages are immense. The teacher appears\nas the friend of the pupil, not as his enemy. The child learns faster,\nbecause he is co-operating. He learns with less fatigue, because there\nis not the constant strain of bringing back a reluctant and bored\nattention. And his sense of personal initiative is cultivated instead\nof being diminished. On account of these advantages, it seems worth\nwhile to assume that the pupil can be led to learn by the force of his\nown desires, without the exercise of compulsion by the teacher. If, in\na small percentage of cases, the method were found to be a failure,\nthese cases could be isolated and instructed by different methods. But\nI believe that, given methods adapted to the child\u2019s intelligence,\nthere would be very few failures.\n\nFor reasons already given in connection with accuracy, I do not believe\nthat a really thorough education can be made interesting through and\nthrough. However much one may wish to know a subject, some parts of it\nare sure to be found dull. But I believe that, given suitable guidance,\na boy or girl can be made to feel the importance of learning the dull\nparts, and can be got through them also without compulsion. I should\nuse the stimulus of praise and blame, applied as the result of good or\nbad performance of set tasks. Whether a pupil possesses the necessary\nskill should be made as obvious as in games or gymnastics. And the\nimportance of the dull parts of a subject should be made clear by\nthe teacher. If all these methods failed, the child would have to be\nclassified as stupid, and taught separately from children of normal\nintelligence, though care must be taken not to let this appear as a\npunishment.\n\nExcept in very rare cases, the teacher, even at an early age (_i.e._,\nafter four, say) should not be either parent. Teaching is work\nrequiring a special type of skill, which can be learnt, but which most\nparents have not had the opportunity of learning. The earlier the age\nof the pupil, the greater is the pedagogical skill required. And apart\nfrom this, the parent has been in constant contact with the child\nbefore formal education began, so that the child has a set of habits\nand expectations towards the parent which are not quite appropriate\ntowards a teacher. The parent, moreover, is likely to be too eager and\ntoo much interested in his child\u2019s progress. He will be inordinately\npleased by the child\u2019s cleverness and exasperated by his stupidity.\nThere are the same reasons for not teaching one\u2019s own children as have\nled medical men not to treat their own families. But of course I do not\nmean that parents should not give such instruction as comes naturally;\nI mean only that they are, as a rule, not the best people for formal\nschool lessons, even when they are well qualified to teach other\npeople\u2019s children.\n\nThroughout education, from the first day to the last, there should\nbe a sense of intellectual adventure. The world is full of puzzling\nthings which can be understood by sufficient effort. The sense of\nunderstanding what had been puzzling is exhilarating and delightful;\nevery good teacher should be able to give it. Madame Montessori\ndescribes the delight of her children when they find they can write;\nI remember a sense almost of intoxication when I first read Newton\u2019s\ndeduction of Kepler\u2019s Second Law from the law of gravitation. Few joys\nare so pure or so useful as this. Initiative and individual work give\nthe pupil the opportunity of discovery, and thus afford the sense of\nmental adventure far more often and more keenly than is possible where\neverything is taught in class. Wherever it is possible, let the student\nbe active rather than passive. This is one of the secrets of making\neducation a happiness rather than a torment.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nTHE SCHOOL CURRICULUM BEFORE FOURTEEN\n\n\nThe questions: what should be taught? and how should it be taught?\nare intimately connected, because, if better methods of teaching are\ndevised, it is possible to learn more. In particular, more can be\nlearnt if the pupils wish to learn than if they regard work as a bore.\nI have already said something about methods, and I shall say more in a\nlater chapter. For the present, I shall assume that the best possible\nmethods are employed, and I shall consider what ought to be taught.\n\nWhen we consider what an adult ought to know, we soon realize that\nthere are things which everybody ought to know, and other things which\nit is necessary that some should know, though others need not. Some\nmust know medicine, but for the bulk of mankind it is sufficient to\nhave an elementary knowledge of physiology and hygiene. Some must\nknow higher mathematics, but the bare elements suffice for those to\nwhom mathematics is distasteful. Some should know how to play the\ntrombone, but mercifully it is not necessary that every school-child\nshould practise this instrument. In the main, the things taught at\nschool before the age of fourteen should be among those that every\none ought to know; apart from exceptional cases, specialization ought\nto come later. It should, however, be one of the aims of education\nbefore fourteen to discover special aptitudes in boys and girls, so\nthat, where they exist, they may be carefully developed in the later\nyears. For this reason, it is well that everybody should learn the bare\nbeginnings of subjects which need not be further pursued by those who\nare bad at them.\n\nWhen we have decided what every adult ought to know, we have to decide\nthe order in which subjects are to be taught; here we shall naturally\nbe guided by relative difficulty, teaching the easiest subjects first.\nTo a great extent, these two principles determine the curriculum in the\nearly school years.\n\nI shall assume that, by the time a child is five years old, he knows\nhow to read and write. This should be the business of the Montessori\nschool, or whatever improvement upon it may hereafter be devised.\nThere, also, the child learns a certain accuracy in sense-perception,\nthe rudiments of drawing and singing and dancing, and the power to\nconcentrate upon some educational occupation in the middle of a\nnumber of other children. Of course the child will not be very perfect\nin these respects at five years old, and will need further teaching\nin all of them for some years to come. I do not think that anything\ninvolving severe mental effort should be undertaken before the age\nof seven, but by sufficient skill difficulties can be enormously\ndiminished. Arithmetic is a bugbear of childhood--I remember weeping\nbitterly because I could not learn the multiplication table--but if it\nis tackled gradually and carefully, as it is by means of the Montessori\napparatus, there is no need of the sense of blank despair which its\nmysteries used to inspire. In the end, however, there must be a good\ndeal of rather tiresome mastering of rules if sufficient facility is\nto be acquired. This is the most awkward of early school subjects\nto fit into a curriculum intended to be interesting; nevertheless,\na certain degree of proficiency is necessary for practical reasons.\nAlso, arithmetic affords the natural introduction to accuracy: the\nanswer to a sum is either right or wrong, and never \u201cinteresting\u201d or\n\u201csuggestive\u201d. This makes arithmetic important as one element in early\neducation, quite apart from its practical utility. But its difficulties\nshould be carefully graded and spread out thin; not too much time at a\nstretch should be devoted to them.\n\nGeography and history were, when I was young, among the worst taught\nof all subjects. I dreaded the geography lesson, and if I tolerated\nthe history lesson it was only because I have always had a passion\nfor history. Both subjects might be made fascinating to quite young\nchildren. My little boy, though he has never had a lesson, already\nknows far more geography than his nurse. He has acquired his knowledge\nthrough the love of trains and steamers which he shares with all boys.\nHe wants to know of journeys that his imaginary steamers are to make,\nand he listens with the closest attention while I tell him the stages\nof the journey to China. Then, if he wishes it, I show him pictures of\nthe various countries on the way. Sometimes he insists upon pulling\nout the big Atlas and looking at the journey on the map. The journey\nbetween London and Cornwall in the train, which he makes twice a year,\ninterests him passionately, and he knows all the stations where the\ntrain stops or where carriages are slipped. He is fascinated by the\nNorth Pole and the South Pole, and puzzled because there is no East\nPole or West Pole. He knows the directions of France and Spain and\nAmerica over the sea, and a good deal about what is to be seen in those\ncountries. None of this has come by way of instruction, but all in\nresponse to an eager curiosity. Almost every child becomes interested\nin geography as soon as it is associated with the idea of travel. I\nshould teach geography partly by pictures and tales about travellers,\nbut mainly by the cinema, showing what the traveller sees on his\njourney. The knowledge of geographical facts is useful, but without\nintrinsic intellectual value; when, however, geography is made vivid\nby pictures, it has the merit of giving food for imagination. It is\ngood to know that there are hot countries and cold countries, flat\ncountries and mountainous countries, black men, yellow men, brown men,\nand red men, as well as white men. This kind of knowledge diminishes\nthe tyranny of familiar surroundings over the imagination, and makes it\npossible in later life to _feel_ that distant countries really exist,\nwhich otherwise is very difficult except by travelling. For these\nreasons, I should give geography a large place in the teaching of very\nyoung children, and I should be astonished if they did not enjoy the\nsubject. Later on, I should give them books with pictures, maps, and\nelementary information about different parts of the world, and get\nthem to put together little essays about the peculiarities of various\ncountries.\n\nWhat applies to geography applies even more strongly to history,\nthough at a slightly more advanced age, because the sense of time is\nrudimentary at first. I think history can profitably be begun at about\nfive years old, at first with interesting stories of eminent men,\nabundantly illustrated. I myself had, at that age, a picture-history\nof England. Queen Matilda crossing the Thames at Abingdon on the ice\nmade such a profound impression upon me that I still felt thrilled\nwhen I did the same thing at the age of eighteen, and quite imagined\nthat King Stephen was after me. I believe hardly any boy of five years\nold would fail to be interested by the life of Alexander. Columbus\nperhaps belongs more to geography than to history; I can testify that\nhe becomes interesting before the age of two, at least to children who\nknow the sea. By the time a child is six years old, he ought to be ripe\nfor an outline of world history, treated more or less on Mr. Wells\u2019s\nor Mr. Van Loon\u2019s lines, with the necessary simplifications, and with\npictures, or the cinema if possible. If he lives in London, he can see\nthe strange beasts in the Natural History Museum; but I should not\ntake him to the British Museum before the age of ten or thereabouts.\nIt is necessary to be careful, in teaching history, not to obtrude\naspects which are interesting to us until the child is ripe for them.\nThe two aspects which are first interesting are: the general pageant\nand procession, from geology to man, from savage man to civilized man,\nand so on; and the dramatic story-telling interest of incidents which\nhave a sympathetic hero. But I think we should keep in our own minds,\nas a guiding thread, the conception of gradual chequered progress,\nperpetually hampered by the savagery which we inherit from the brutes,\nand yet gradually leading on towards mastery of ourselves and our\nenvironment through knowledge. The conception is that of the human\nrace as a whole, fighting against chaos without and darkness within,\nthe little tiny lamp of reason growing gradually into a great light\nby which the night is dispelled. The divisions between races, nations\nand creeds should be treated as follies, distracting us in the battle\nagainst Chaos and Old Night, which is our one truly human activity.\n\nI should give first the illustrations of this theme, and only\nafterwards, if ever, the theme itself. I should show savage man\ncowering in the cold, gnawing the raw fruits of the earth. I should\nshow the discovery of fire, and its effects; in this connection, the\nstory of Prometheus would be in place. I should show the beginnings\nof agriculture in the Nile Valley, and the domestication of sheep\nand cows and dogs. I should show the growth of ships from canoes\nto the largest liners, and the growth of cities from colonies of\ncave-dwellers to London and New York. I should show the gradual\ngrowth of writing and of numerals. I should show the brief gleam of\nGreece, the diffused magnificence of Rome, the subsequent darkness,\nand the coming of science. The whole of this could be made interesting\nin detail even to very young children. I should not keep silence\nabout wars and persecutions and cruelties, but I should not hold\nup military conquerors to admiration. The true conquerors, in my\nteaching of history, should be those who did something to dispel the\ndarkness within and without--Buddha and Socrates, Archimedes, Galileo\nand Newton, and all the men who have helped to give us mastery over\nourselves or over nature. And so I should build up the conception of a\nlordly splendid destiny for the human race, to which we are false when\nwe revert to wars and other atavistic follies, and true only when we\nput into the world something that adds to our human dominion.\n\nIn the early years at school, there should be a time set apart for\ndancing, which is good for the body and a training for the \u00e6sthetic\nsense, besides being a great pleasure to the children. Collective\ndances should be taught after the elements have been learnt; this is a\nform of co-operation which young children easily appreciate. Similar\nremarks apply to singing, though it should begin a little later than\ndancing, both because it does not afford the same muscular delight, and\nbecause its rudiments are more difficult. Most children, though not\nall, will enjoy singing, and after nursery rhymes they should learn\nreally beautiful songs. There is no reason to corrupt their taste\nfirst and try to purify it afterwards. At the best, this makes people\nprecious. Children, like adults, differ enormously in musical capacity,\nso that the more difficult singing classes would have to be reserved\nfor a selection among the older children. And among them singing ought\nto be voluntary, not enforced.\n\nThe teaching of literature is a matter as to which it is easy to make\nmistakes. There is not the slightest use, either for young or old, in\nbeing well-informed _about_ literature, knowing the dates of the poets,\nthe names of their works, and so on. Everything that can be put into\na handbook is worthless. What is valuable is great familiarity with\ncertain examples of good literature--such familiarity as will influence\nthe style, not only of writing, but of thought. In old days the Bible\nsupplied this to English children, certainly with a beneficial effect\nupon prose style; but few modern children know the Bible intimately.\nI think the good effect of literature cannot be fully obtained without\nlearning by heart. This practice used to be advocated as a training for\nthe memory, but psychologists have shown that it has little, if any,\neffect in this way. Modern educationists give it less and less place.\nBut I think they are mistaken, not because of any possible improvement\nof memory, but on account of the effect upon beauty of language in\nspeech and writing. This should come without effort, as a spontaneous\nexpression of thought; but in order to do so, in a community which has\nlost the primitive \u00e6sthetic impulses, it is necessary to produce a\nhabit of thought which I believe is only to be generated by intimate\nknowledge of good literature. That is why learning by heart seems to me\nimportant.\n\nBut mere learning of set pieces, such as \u201cthe quality of mercy\u201d and\n\u201call the world\u2019s a stage\u201d, seems tedious and artificial to most\nchildren, and therefore fails of its purpose. It is much better that\nlearning by heart should be associated with acting, because then it\nis a necessary means to something which every child loves. From the\nage of three onwards, children delight in acting a part; they do it\nspontaneously, but are overjoyed when more elaborate ways of doing it\nare put in their way. I remember the exquisite amusement with which I\nacted the quarrel scene between Brutus and Cassius, and declaimed:\n\n  I had rather be a dog and bay the moon\n  Than such a Roman.\n\nChildren who take part in performing _Julius C\u00e6sar_ or _The Merchant\nof Venice_ or any other suitable play will not only know their own\nparts, but most of the other parts as well. The play will be in their\nthoughts for a long time, and all by way of enjoyment. After all, good\nliterature is intended to give pleasure, and if children cannot be got\nto derive pleasure from it they are hardly likely to derive benefit\neither. For these reasons, I should confine the teaching of literature,\nin early years, to the learning of parts for acting. The rest should\nconsist of voluntary reading of well-written stories, obtainable in\nthe school library. People nowadays write silly sentimental stuff for\nchildren, which insults them by not taking them seriously. Contrast\nthe intense seriousness of \u201cRobinson Crusoe\u201d. Sentimentality, in\ndealing with children and elsewhere, is a failure of dramatic sympathy.\nNo child thinks it charming to be childish; he wants, as soon as\npossible, to learn to behave like a grown-up person. Therefore a book\nfor children ought never to display a patronizing pleasure in childish\nways. The artificial silliness of many modern children\u2019s books is\ndisgusting. It must either annoy a child, or puzzle and confuse his\nimpulse towards mental growth. For this reason, the best books for\nchildren are those that happen to suit them, though written for\ngrown-up people. The only exceptions are books written for children but\ndelightful also to grown-up people, such as Lear and Lewis Carroll.\n\nThe question of modern languages is one which is not altogether easy.\nIn childhood it is possible to learn to speak a modern language\nperfectly, which can never be achieved in later years; there are\ntherefore strong grounds for teaching languages at an early age, if\nat all. Some people seem to fear that knowledge of one\u2019s own language\nsuffers if others are learnt too soon. I do not believe this. Tolstoy\nand Turgenev were quite competent in Russian, though they learnt\nEnglish, French and German in infancy. Gibbon could write in French\nas easily as in English, but this did not spoil his English style.\nAll through the eighteenth century, all English aristocrats learnt\nFrench in early youth as a matter of course, and many also learnt\nItalian; yet their English was vastly better than that of their modern\ndescendants. A child\u2019s dramatic instinct prevents it from confusing one\nlanguage with another, provided it speaks them to different people. I\nlearnt German at the same time as English, and spoke it to nurses and\ngovernesses up to the age of ten; then I learnt French, and spoke it\nto governesses and tutors. Neither language ever confused itself with\nEnglish, because it had different personal associations. I think that\nif a modern language is to be taught, it should be taught by a person\nwhose native language it is, not only because it will be better taught,\nbut because children feel less artificiality in talking a foreign\nlanguage to a foreigner than in talking it to a person whose natural\nlanguage is the same as their own. I think, therefore, that every\nschool for children ought to have a French mistress, and if possible a\nGerman mistress too, who should not formally instruct the children in\nher language, except quite at first, but should play games with them\nand talk to them, and make the success of the games depend upon their\nunderstanding and answering. She could start with _Fr\u00e8re Jacques_ and\n_Sur le pont d\u2019Avignon_, and go on gradually to more complicated games.\nIn this way the language could be acquired without any mental fatigue,\nand with all the pleasure of play-acting. And it can be acquired then\nfar more perfectly and with less waste of valuable educational time\nthan at any subsequent period.\n\nThe teaching of mathematics and science can only be begun towards\nthe end of the years that we are considering in this chapter--say at\nthe age of twelve. Of course I assume that arithmetic has already\nbeen taught, and that there have been popular talks about astronomy\nand geology, about prehistoric animals, famous explorers, and such\nnaturally interesting matters. But I am thinking now of formal\nteaching--geometry and algebra, physics and chemistry. A few boys and\ngirls like geometry and algebra, but the great majority do not. I\ndoubt if this is wholly due to faulty methods of teaching. A sense for\nmathematics, like musical capacity, is mainly a gift of the gods, and I\nbelieve it to be quite rare, even in a moderate degree. Nevertheless,\nevery boy and girl should have a taste of mathematics, in order to\ndiscover those who have a talent for it. Also, even those who learn\nlittle profit by the knowledge that there is such a subject. And by\ngood methods almost everybody can be made to understand the elements\nof geometry. Of algebra I cannot say the same; it is more abstract\nthan geometry, and essentially unintelligible to those whose minds are\nincapable of detachment from the concrete. A taste for physics and\nchemistry, properly taught, would probably be found to be less rare\nthan a taste for mathematics, though still existing only in a minority\nof young people. Both mathematics and science, in the years from\ntwelve to fourteen, ought only to be pursued to the point at which it\nbecomes clear whether a boy or girl has any aptitude for them. This,\nof course, is not immediately evident. I loathed algebra at first,\nalthough afterwards I had some facility in it. In some cases, it would\nstill be doubtful at the age of fourteen whether there was ability or\nnot. In these cases, tentative methods would have to be continued for\na while. But in most cases a decision could be made at fourteen. Some\nwould definitely like the subjects and be good at them, others would\ndislike them and be bad at them. It would very seldom happen that a\nclever pupil disliked them or a stupid pupil liked them.\n\nWhat has been said about mathematics and science applies equally to\nthe classics. Between twelve and fourteen, I should give just so much\ninstruction in Latin as would suffice to show which boys and girls\nhad a love of the subject and facility for it. I am assuming that\nat fourteen education should begin to be more or less specialized,\naccording to the tastes and aptitudes of the pupil. The last years\nbefore this moment arrives should be spent in finding out what it will\nbe best to teach in subsequent years.\n\nAll through the school years, education in outdoor things should\ncontinue. In the case of well-to-do children, this can be left to the\nparents, but with other children it will have to be partly the business\nof the school. When I speak of education in outdoor things, I am not\nthinking of games. They, of course, have their importance, which is\nsufficiently recognized; but I am thinking of something different:\nknowledge of agricultural processes, familiarity with animals and\nplants, gardening, habits of observation in the country, and so on.\nI have been amazed to discover that town-bred people seldom know\nthe points of the compass, never know which way the sun goes round,\ncannot find out which side of the house is out of the wind, and are\ngenerally destitute of knowledge which every cow or sheep possesses.\nThis is the result of life exclusively in towns. Perhaps I shall be\nthought fanciful if I say that it is one reason why the labour party\ncannot win rural constituencies. But it certainly is the reason why\ntown-bred people are so utterly divorced from everything primitive\nand fundamental. It has to do with something trivial and superficial\nand frivolous in their attitude to life--not of course always, but\nvery often. The seasons and the weather, sowing and harvest, crops and\nflocks and herds, have a certain human importance, and ought to be\nintimate and familiar to everybody if the divorce from mother earth is\nnot to be too complete. All this knowledge can be acquired by children\nin the course of activities which are of immense value to health,\nand deserve to be undertaken for that reason alone. And the pleasure\nof town children in the country shows that a profound need is being\nsatisfied. So long as it is not satisfied, our educational system is\nincomplete.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nLAST SCHOOL YEARS\n\n\nAfter the summer holidays in the fifteenth year, I shall assume that a\nboy or girl who so desires is allowed to specialize, and that this will\nbe done in a large proportion of cases. But where there is no definite\npreference, it will be better to prolong an all-round education. And\nin exceptional cases specializing may begin earlier. All rules, in\neducation, should be capable of being broken for special reasons. But I\nthink that, as a general rule, pupils of more than average intelligence\nshould begin to specialize at about fourteen, while pupils of less than\naverage intelligence should usually not specialize at all at school,\nunless in the way of vocational training. I am refraining, in this\nbook, from saying anything on this subject. But I do not believe that\nit ought to begin before fourteen, and I do not think that, even then,\nit ought to take up the whole of the school time of any pupil. I do\nnot propose to discuss how much time it should take up, or whether it\nshould be given to all pupils or only to some. These questions raise\neconomic and political issues which are only indirectly connected with\neducation, and which cannot be discussed briefly. I therefore confine\nmyself to the scholastic education in the years after fourteen.\n\nI should make three broad divisions in school: (1) classics, (2)\nmathematics and science, (3) modern humanities. This last should\ninclude modern languages, history, and literature. In each division it\nmight be possible to specialize somewhat more before leaving school,\nwhich I shall suppose does not occur before eighteen. Obviously all\nwho take classics must do both Latin and Greek, but some may do more\nof the one, and some more of the other. Mathematics and science should\ngo together at first, but in some sciences it is possible to achieve\neminence without much mathematics, and in fact many eminent men of\nscience have been bad mathematicians. I should, therefore, at the\nage of sixteen, allow a boy or girl to specialize in science or to\nspecialize in mathematics, without entirely neglecting the branch not\nchosen. Similar remarks apply to modern humanities.\n\nCertain subjects, of great utilitarian importance, would have to be\ntaught to everybody. Among these, I should include anatomy, physiology\nand hygiene, to the extent that is likely to be required in adult daily\nlife. But perhaps these subjects ought to come at an earlier stage,\nsince they are naturally connected with sex education, which ought to\nbe given, as far as possible, before puberty. The objection to putting\nthem very early is that they ought not to be forgotten before they are\nneeded. I think the only solution is to give them twice over, once,\nvery simply and in bare outline, before puberty, and again later in\nconnection with elementary knowledge about health and disease. I should\nsay that every pupil ought to know something also about Parliament and\nthe Constitution, but care must be taken to prevent teaching on this\nsubject from degenerating into political propaganda.\n\nMore important than the curriculum is the question of the methods of\nteaching and the spirit in which the teaching is given. As to this,\nthe main problem is to make the work interesting without making it too\neasy. Exact and detailed study should be supplemented by books and\nlectures on general aspects of the studies concerned. Before sitting\ndown to a Greek play, I would have the students read a translation, by\nGilbert Murray or some other translator with a poetic gift. Mathematics\nshould be diversified by an occasional lecture on the history of\nmathematical discovery, and on the influence of this or that piece of\nmathematics upon science and daily life, with hints of the delightful\nthings to be found in higher mathematics. Similarly the detailed study\nof history should be supplemented by brilliant outlines, even if they\ncontained questionable generalizations. The students might be told\nthat the generalizations are doubtful, and be invited to consider\ntheir detailed knowledge as supporting or refuting them. In science,\nit is good to read popular books which give an _aper\u00e7u_ of recent\nresearch, in order to have some idea of the general scientific purpose\nserved by particular facts and laws. All these things are useful as\nincentives to exact and minute study, but are pernicious if they are\ntreated as substitutes for it. Pupils must not be encouraged to think\nthat there are short cuts to knowledge. This is a real danger in\nmodern education, owing to the reaction against the old severe drill.\nThe mental work involved in the drill was good; what was bad was the\nkilling of intellectual interests. We must try to secure the hard work,\nbut by other methods than those of the old disciplinarian. I do not\nbelieve this is impossible. One finds in America that men who were idle\nas undergraduates work hard in the law school or the medical school,\nbecause at last they are doing work which strikes them as important.\nThat is the essence of the matter: make the school work seem important\nto the pupils, and they will work hard. But if you make the work too\neasy, they will know, almost by instinct, that you are not giving\nthem what is really worth having. Clever boys and girls like to test\ntheir minds on difficulties. With good teaching and the elimination of\nfear, very many boys and girls would be clever who now seem stupid and\nlethargic.\n\nAll through education, initiative should come from the pupil as far as\npossible. Madame Montessori has shown how this can be done with very\nyoung children, but with older children different methods are required.\nIt is, I think, generally recognized by progressive educationists that\nthere should be much more individual work and much less class-work\nthan has been customary, though the individual work should be done in\na room full of other boys and girls similarly engaged. Libraries and\nlaboratories should be adequate and roomy. A considerable part of the\nworking day should be set apart for voluntary self-directed study, but\nthe pupil should write an account of what he or she is studying, with\nan abstract of any information acquired. This helps to fix things in\nthe memory, to make reading have a purpose instead of being desultory,\nand to give the teacher just that amount of control which may be\nnecessary in each case. The cleverer the pupil, the less control is\nrequired. With those who are not very clever it will be necessary to\ngive a great deal of guidance; but even with them it should be by way\nof suggestion, inquiry, and stimulus rather than by command. There\nshould, however, also be set themes, giving practice in ascertaining\nthe facts about some prescribed subject, and in presenting them in an\norderly manner.\n\nIn addition to regular work, boys and girls ought to be encouraged to\ntake an interest in current controversial questions of importance,\npolitical, social, and even theological. They should be encouraged to\nread all sides in such controversies, not only the orthodox side. If\nany of them have strong feelings on one side or the other, they should\nbe told how to find out facts which support their view, and should be\nset to debate with those who hold the opposite view. Debates, conducted\nseriously with a view to ascertaining the truth, could be of great\nvalue. In these, the teacher should learn not to take sides, even if he\nor she has strong convictions. If almost all the pupils take one side,\nthe teacher should take the other, saying that it is only for purposes\nof argument. Otherwise, his part should be confined to correcting\nmistakes as to facts. By such means, the pupils could learn discussion\nas a means of ascertaining truth, not as a contest for rhetorical\nvictory.\n\nIf I were at the head of a school for older boys and girls, I should\nconsider it equally undesirable to shirk current questions and to do\npropaganda about them. It is a good thing to make pupils feel that\ntheir education is fitting them to cope with matters about which the\nworld is excited; it gives them a sense that scholastic teaching is\nnot divorced from the practical world. But I should not urge my own\nviews upon the pupils. What I should do is to put before them the ideal\nof a scientific attitude to practical questions. I should expect them\nto produce arguments that are arguments, and facts that are facts. In\npolitics, especially, this habit is as rare as it is valuable. Every\nvehement political party generates a cocoon of myth, within which its\nmentality peacefully slumbers. Passion, too often, kills intellect;\nin intellectuals, on the contrary, intellect not infrequently kills\npassion. My aim would be to avoid both these misfortunes. Passionate\nfeeling is desirable, provided it is not destructive; intellect is\ndesirable, with the same proviso. I should wish the fundamental\npolitical passions to be constructive, and I should try to make the\nintellect serve these passions. But it must serve them genuinely,\nobjectively, not only in the world of dreams. When the real world is\nnot sufficiently flattering we all tend to take refuge in an imaginary\nworld, where our desires are gratified without great effort. This\nis the essence of hysteria. It is also the source of nationalist,\ntheological, and class myths. It shows a weakness of character which\nis almost universal in the present world. To combat this weakness\nof character should be one of the aims of later school education.\nThere are two ways of combating it, both necessary, though in a sense\nopposites. The one is to increase our sense of what we can achieve in\nthe world of reality; the other is to make us more sensitive to what\nreality can do in the way of dispelling our dreams. Both are comprised\nin the principle of living objectively rather than subjectively.\n\nThe classic example of subjectivity is Don Quixote. The first time he\nmade a helmet, he tested its capacity for resisting blows, and battered\nit out of shape; next time he did not test it, but \u201cdeemed\u201d it to be\na very good helmet. This habit of \u201cdeeming\u201d dominated his life. But\nevery refusal to face unpleasant facts is of the same kind: we are all\nDon Quixotes more or less. Don Quixote would not have done as he did\nif he had been taught at school to make a really good helmet, and if\nhe had been surrounded by companions who refused to \u201cdeem\u201d whatever he\nwished to believe. The habit of living in fancies is normal and right\nin early childhood, because young children have an impotence which\nis not pathological. But as adult life approaches, there must be a\nmore and more vivid realization that dreams are only valuable in so\nfar as they can be translated, sooner or later, into fact. Boys are\nadmirable in correcting the purely personal claims of other boys; in\na school, it is difficult to cherish illusions as to one\u2019s power in\nrelation to schoolfellows. But the myth-making faculty remains active\nin other directions, often with the co-operation of the masters. One\u2019s\nown school is the best in the world; one\u2019s country is always right and\nalways victorious; one\u2019s social class (if one is rich) is better than\nany other class. All these are undesirable myths. They lead us to deem\nthat we have a good helmet, when in fact some one else\u2019s sword could\ncut it in two. In this way they promote laziness and lead ultimately to\ndisaster.\n\nTo cure this habit of mind, it is necessary, as in many other cases,\nto replace fear by rational prevision of misfortune. Fear makes people\nunwilling to face real dangers. A person afflicted with subjectivity,\nif awakened in the middle of the night by the cry of \u201cfire\u201d, might\ndecide that it must be his neighbour\u2019s house, since the truth would be\ntoo terrifying; he might thus lose the moment when escape was still\npossible. This, of course, could only occur in a pathological case; but\nin politics the analogous behaviour is normal. Fear, as an emotion, is\ndisastrous in all cases where the right course can only be discovered\nby thinking; we want, therefore, to be able to foresee possibilities of\nevil without feeling fear, and to use our intelligence for the purpose\nof avoiding what is not inevitable. Evils which are really inevitable\nhave to be treated with sheer courage; but it is not of them that I am\nspeaking.\n\nI do not want to repeat what I said about fear in a former chapter;\nI am concerned with it now only in the intellectual sphere, as an\nobstacle to truthful thinking. In this sphere, it is much easier to\novercome in youth than in later life, because a change of opinion is\nless likely to bring grave misfortune to a boy or girl than to an\nadult, whose life is built upon certain postulates. For this reason,\nI should encourage a habit of intelligent controversy among the older\nboys and girls, and I should place no obstacles in their way even if\nthey questioned what I regarded as important truths. I should make it\nmy object to teach thinking, not orthodoxy, or even heterodoxy. And I\nshould absolutely never sacrifice intellect to the fancied interest\nof morals. It is generally held that the teaching of virtue demands\nthe inculcation of falsehood. In politics, we conceal the vices of\neminent statesmen of our own party. In theology, we conceal the sins\nof Popes if we are Catholics, and the sins of Luther and Calvin if we\nare Protestants. In matters of sex, we pretend before young people that\nvirtue is much commoner than it is. In all countries, even adults are\nnot allowed to know certain kinds of facts which the police consider\nundesirable, and the censor, in England, does not allow plays to be\ntrue to life, since he holds that the public can only be cajoled into\nvirtue by deceit. This whole attitude implies a certain feebleness.\nLet us know the truth, whatever it is; then we can act rationally.\nThe holders of power wish to conceal the truth from their slaves,\nin order that they may be misled as to their own interests; this is\nintelligible. What is less intelligible is that democracies should\nvoluntarily make laws designed to prevent themselves from knowing\nthe truth. This is collective Quixotism: they are resolved not to be\ntold that the helmet is less good than they wish to believe. Such\nan attitude of abject funk is unworthy of free men and women. In my\nschool, no obstacle to knowledge shall exist of any sort or kind. I\nshall seek virtue by the right training of passions and instincts,\nnot by lying and deceit. In the virtue that I desire, the pursuit\nof knowledge, without fear and without limitation, is an essential\nelement, in the absence of which the rest has little value.\n\nWhat I am saying is no more than this: that I should cultivate the\nscientific spirit. Many eminent men of science do not have this spirit\noutside their special province; I should seek to make it all-pervasive.\nThe scientific spirit demands in the first place a wish to find out\nthe truth; the more ardent this wish, the better. It involves, in\naddition, certain intellectual qualities. There must be preliminary\nuncertainty, and subsequent decision according to the evidence. We must\nnot imagine in advance that we already know what the evidence will\nprove. Nor must we be content with a lazy scepticism, which regards\nobjective truth as unattainable and all evidence as inconclusive. We\nshould admit that even our best-founded beliefs probably stand in need\nof _some_ correction; but truth, so far as it is humanly attainable,\nis a matter of degree. Our beliefs in physics are certainly less false\nnow than they were before the time of Galileo. Our beliefs as to child\npsychology are certainly nearer to the truth than Dr. Arnold\u2019s were.\nIn each case, the advance has come through substituting observation\nfor preconceptions and passions. It is for the sake of this step that\npreliminary uncertainty is so important. It is necessary, therefore,\nto teach this, and also to teach the skill required for marshalling\nevidence. In a world where rival propagandists are perpetually blazing\nfalsehoods at us, to induce us to poison ourselves with pills or each\nother with poison gases, this critical habit of mind is enormously\nimportant. Ready credulity in the face of repeated assertions is one of\nthe curses of the modern world, and schools should do what they can to\nguard against it.\n\nThroughout the later school years, even more than earlier, there\nshould be a sense of intellectual adventure. Pupils should be given\nthe opportunity of finding out exciting things for themselves after\ntheir set tasks were done, and therefore the set tasks should not be\ntoo heavy. There must be praise whenever it is deserved, and although\nmistakes must be pointed out, it should be done without censure.\nPupils should never be made to feel ashamed of their stupidity. The\ngreat stimulus in education is to feel that achievement is possible.\nKnowledge which is felt to be boring is of little use, but knowledge\nwhich is assimilated eagerly becomes a permanent possession. Let the\nrelation of knowledge to real life be very visible to your pupils, and\nlet them understand how by knowledge the world could be transformed.\nLet the teacher appear always the ally of the pupil, not his natural\nenemy. Given a good training in the early years, these precepts will\nsuffice to make the acquisition of knowledge delightful to the great\nmajority of boys and girls.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nDAY SCHOOLS AND BOARDING SCHOOLS\n\n\nWhether a boy or girl should be sent to a boarding school or a day\nschool is, to my mind, a question which must be decided in each case\naccording to circumstances and temperament. Each system has its own\nadvantages; in some cases the advantages of one system are greater, in\nothers those of the other. I propose, in this chapter, to set forth the\nkind of arguments which would weigh with me in deciding about my own\nchildren, and which, I imagine, would be likely to weigh with other\nconscientious parents.\n\nThere are first of all considerations of health. Whatever may be true\nof actual schools, it is clear that schools are capable of being\nmade more scientifically careful in this respect than most homes,\nbecause they can employ doctors and dentists and matrons with the\nlatest knowledge, whereas busy parents are likely to be comparatively\nuninformed medically. Moreover, schools can be put in healthy\nneighbourhoods. In the case of people who live in big towns, this\nargument alone is very powerful in favour of boarding schools. It is\nobviously better for young people to spend most of their life in the\ncountry, so that if their parents have to live in towns it may be\ndesirable to send the children away for their schooling. This argument\nmay perhaps cease, before long, to have much validity: the health of\nLondon, for example, is steadily improving, and might be brought up\nto the standard of the country by the artificial use of ultra-violet\nlight. Nevertheless, even if illness could be brought as low as in the\ncountry, a considerable nervous strain would remain. Constant noise is\nbad for both children and adults; the sights of the country, the smell\nof damp earth, the wind and the stars, ought to be stored in the memory\nof every man and woman. I think, therefore, that life in the country\nfor the greater part of the year will remain important for the young\nwhatever improvements may be effected in urban health.\n\nAnother argument, though a much smaller one, in favour of boarding\nschools is that they save the time otherwise spent in going and coming.\nMost people do not have a really good day school at their doors, and\nthe distance to be traversed may be considerable. This argument is\nstrongest in the country, as the other was strongest for town dwellers.\n\nWhen it is desired to try any innovation in educational methods, it is\nalmost inevitable that it should first be tried in a boarding school,\nbecause it is unlikely that the parents who believe in it will all\nlive within one small area. This does not apply to infants, because\nthey are not yet wholly in the grip of the education authorities;\nconsequently Madame Montessori and Miss McMillan were able to try their\nexperiment upon the very poor. Within the recognized school years, on\nthe contrary, only the rich are allowed to try experiments with their\nchildren\u2019s education. Most of them, naturally, prefer what is old and\nconventional; the few who desire anything else are geographically\nwidely distributed, and do not anywhere suffice to support a day\nschool. Such experiments as Bedales are only possible for boarding\nschools.\n\nThe arguments on the other side are, however, very considerable. In a\nschool, many aspects of life do not appear: it is an artificial world,\nwhose problems are not those of the world at large. A boy who is only\nat home during the holidays, when everybody makes a fuss over him, is\nlikely to acquire far less knowledge of life than a boy who is at home\nevery morning and evening. This is, at present, less true of girls,\nbecause more is demanded of them in many homes; but in proportion as\ntheir education is assimilated to that of boys, their home life also\nwill become similar, and their present greater knowledge of domestic\naffairs will disappear. After fifteen or sixteen, it is good for\nboys and girls to have a certain share in parental occupations and\nanxieties--not too much, it is true, since that would interfere with\neducation, but still some, lest they should fail to realize that the\nold people have their own life, their own interests, and their own\nimportance. In the school, only young people count, and it is for them\nthat everything is done. In holidays, the atmosphere of home is apt\nto be dominated by the young people. Consequently they tend to become\narrogant and hard, ignorant of the problems of adult life, and quite\naloof from their parents.\n\nThis state of affairs is apt to have a bad effect upon the affections\nof young people. Their affection for their parents becomes atrophied,\nand they never have to learn to adjust themselves to people whose\ntastes and pursuits are different from their own. I think this tends\ntowards a certain selfish completeness, a feeling of one\u2019s own\npersonality as something exclusive. The family is the most natural\ncorrective of this tendency, since it is a unit composed of people of\ndifferent ages and sexes, with different functions to perform; it is\norganic, in a way which a collection of homogeneous individuals is not.\nParents love their children largely because they give so much trouble;\nif parents give no trouble to their children, their children will not\ntake them seriously. But the trouble they give must be legitimate: it\nmust be only such as is necessary if they are to do their work and have\nany life of their own. Respect for the rights of others is one of the\nthings young people ought to learn, and it is more easily learnt in\nthe family than elsewhere. It is good for boys and girls to know that\ntheir father can be harassed by worries and their mother worn out by a\nmultiplicity of details. And it is good that filial affection should\nremain alive during adolescence. A world without family affection\ntends to become harsh and mechanical, composed of individuals who\ntry to domineer, but become cringing if they fail. I fear that these\nbad effects are to a certain extent produced by sending children to\nboarding schools, and I regard them as sufficiently serious to offset\ngreat advantages.\n\nIt is of course true, as modern psychologists insist, that the\nexcessive influence of father or mother is a very harmful thing. But\nI do not believe it is likely to exist where children have gone to\nschool from the age of two or three, as I have suggested that they\nshould. Day school from an early age affords, to my mind, the right\ncompromise between parental domination and parental insignificance. So\nfar as concerns the set of considerations with which we have just been\noccupied, this seems clearly the best course, given a good home.\n\nIn the case of sensitive boys, there is a certain risk in leaving\nthem to the exclusive society of other boys. Boys of about twelve\nare, for the most part, at a rather barbarous and insensitive stage.\nQuite recently, at a leading English school, there was a case of a\nboy suffering grave bodily injury for being sympathetic to the Labour\nParty. Boys who differ from the average in their opinions and tastes\nare likely to suffer seriously. Even at the most modern and progressive\nboarding schools in existence, pro-Boers had a bad time during the\nBoer war. Any boy who is fond of reading, or does not dislike his\nwork, is pretty sure to be ill-treated. In France, the cleverest boys\ngo to the _Ecole Normale Sup\u00e9rieure_ and do not mix any longer with\nthe average. This plan certainly has advantages. It prevents the\nintellectuals from having their nerve broken and becoming sycophants\nof the average Philistine, as happens to many of them in this country.\nIt avoids the strain and misery which an unpopular boy must suffer. It\nmakes it possible to give to clever boys the kind of teaching which\nsuits them, which goes at a much more rapid pace than is possible for\nthe less intelligent. On the other hand, it isolates the intellectuals\nfrom the rest of the community in later life, and makes them,\nperhaps, less able to understand the average man. In spite of this\npossible disadvantage, I think it on the whole better than the British\nupper-class practice of torturing all boys who have exceptional brains\nor exceptional moral qualities, unless they happen also to be good at\ngames.[23]\n\nHowever, the savagery of boys is not incurable, and is in fact much\nless than it was. \u201cTom Brown\u2019s School Days\u201d gives a black picture,\nwhich would be exaggerated if applied to the public schools of our own\nday. It would be still less applicable to boys who had had the kind of\nearly training which we considered in previous chapters. I think also\nthat co-education--which is possible at a boarding school, as Bedales\nshows--is likely to have a civilizing effect upon boys. I am chary\nof admitting native differences between the sexes, but I think that\ngirls are less prone than boys to punish oddity by serious physical\ncruelty. At present, however, there are very few boarding schools to\nwhich I should venture to send a boy if he were above the average in\nintelligence, morals, or sensitiveness, or if he were not conservative\nin politics and orthodox in theology. For such boys, I am convinced\nthat the existing school system for the sons of rich parents is bad.\nAnd among such boys are included almost all who have any exceptional\nmerit.\n\nOf the above considerations, both for and against boarding schools,\nthere are only two that are essential and unalterable, and these two\nare on opposite sides. On the one side there is the benefit of the\ncountry and air and space; on the other, the family affections and\nthe education derived from knowledge of family responsibilities. In\nthe case of parents who live in the country, there is a different\nargument in favour of boarding schools, namely, the improbability of\na really good day school in their neighbourhood. I do not think it is\npossible, in view of these conflicting considerations, to arrive at\nany general conclusion. Where children are so strong and vigorous that\nconsiderations of health need not be taken very seriously, one argument\nfor boarding schools fails. Where they are very devoted to their\nparents, one argument for day schools fails, since the holidays will\nsuffice to keep family affection alive, and term time may just prevent\nit from becoming excessive. A sensitive child of exceptional ability\nhad better not go to boarding school, and in extreme cases had better\nnot go to school at all. Of course, a good school is better than a bad\nhome, and a good home is better than a bad school. But where both are\ngood, each case must be decided on its merits.\n\nSo far, I have written from the standpoint of a well-to-do parent,\nto whom individual choice is possible. When the matter is considered\npolitically, from the point of view of the community, other\nconsiderations enter in. We have on the one hand the expense of\nboarding schools, on the other the simplification of the housing\nproblem if children are away from home. I hold strongly that, apart\nfrom a few rare cases, every one ought to have a scholastic education\nup to the age of eighteen, and exclusively vocational training should\nonly begin after that age. Although much might be urged both ways on\nour present topic, the financial consideration will, for a long time to\ncome, decide the question, in the case of most wage-earners\u2019 sons and\ndaughters, in favour of day schools. Since there is no clear ground for\nthinking this decision wrong, we may accept it, in spite of the fact\nthat it is not made on educational grounds.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nTHE UNIVERSITY\n\n\nIn previous chapters, we have considered the education in character and\nknowledge which, in a good social system, should be open to everybody,\nand should in fact be enjoyed by everybody, except for serious special\nreasons such as musical genius. (It would have been unfortunate if\nMozart had been obliged to learn ordinary school subjects up to the age\nof eighteen.) But even in an ideal community there would, I think, be\nmany people who would not go to the university. I am convinced that, at\npresent, only a minority of the population can profit by a scholastic\neducation prolonged to the age of twenty-one or twenty-two. Certainly\nthe idle rich who at present infest the older universities very often\nderive no benefit from them, but merely contract habits of dissipation.\nWe have therefore to ask on what principle we are to select those\nwho should go to the university. At present, they are in the main\nthose whose parents can afford to send them, though this principle of\nselection is being increasingly modified by the scholarship system.\nObviously, the principle of selection ought to be educational, not\nfinancial. A boy or girl of eighteen, who has had a good school\neducation, is capable of doing useful work. If he or she is to be\nexempted for a further period of three or four years, the community has\na right to expect that the time will be profitably employed. But before\ndeciding who is to go to the university, we must have some view as to\nthe function of the university in the life of the community.\n\nBritish universities have passed through three stages, of which,\nhowever, the second is not yet wholly displaced by the third. At first,\nthey were training colleges for the clergy, to whom, in the Middle\nAges, learning was almost wholly confined. Then, with the renaissance,\nthe idea gained ground that every well-to-do person ought to be\neducated, though women were supposed to need less education than men.\n\u201cThe education of a gentleman\u201d was given at the universities throughout\nthe seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, and is still\ngiven at Oxford. For reasons which we considered in Chapter I, this\nideal, which was formerly very useful, is now out-of-date; it depended\nupon aristocracy, and cannot flourish either in a democracy or in an\nindustrial plutocracy. If there is to be an aristocracy, it had better\nbe composed of educated gentlemen; but it is better still to have no\naristocracy. I need not argue this question, since it was decided in\nEngland by the Reform Bill and the repeal of the Corn Laws, and in\nAmerica by the War of Independence. It is true that we still have in\nEngland the forms of aristocracy, but the spirit is that of plutocracy,\nwhich is quite a different thing. Snobbery makes successful business\nmen send their sons to Oxford to be turned into \u201cgentlemen\u201d, but the\nresult is to give them a distaste for business, which reduces their\nchildren again to comparative poverty and the need of earning a living.\nThe \u201ceducation of a gentleman\u201d has therefore ceased to be an important\npart of the life of the nation, and may be ignored in considering the\nfuture.\n\nThe universities are thus reverting to a position more analogous to\nthat which they occupied in the Middle Ages; they are becoming training\nschools for the professions. Barristers, clergymen and medical men have\nusually had a university education; so have the first division of the\ncivil service. An increasing number of engineers and technical workers\nin various businesses are university men. As the world grows more\ncomplicated and industry becomes more scientific, an increasing number\nof experts are required, and in the main they are supplied by the\nuniversities. Old-fashioned people lament the intrusion of technical\nschools into the haunts of pure learning, but it continues none the\nless, because it is demanded by plutocrats who care nothing for\n\u201cculture\u201d. It is they, much more than the insurgent democracy, who are\nthe enemies of pure learning. \u201cUseless\u201d learning, like \u201cart for art\u2019s\nsake\u201d, is an aristocratic, not a plutocratic, ideal; where it lingers,\nit is because the renaissance tradition is not yet dead. I regret the\ndecay of this ideal profoundly; pure learning was one of the best\nthings associated with aristocracy. But the evils of aristocracy were\nso great as easily to outweigh this merit. In any case, industrialism\nmust kill aristocracy, whether we desire it or not. We may as well make\nup our minds, therefore, to save what we can by attaching it to new\nand more potent conceptions; so long as we cling to mere tradition, we\nshall be fighting a losing battle.\n\nIf pure learning is to survive as one of the purposes of universities,\nit will have to be brought into relation with the life of the community\nas a whole, not only with the refined delights of a few gentlemen\nof leisure. I regard disinterested learning as a matter of great\nimportance, and I should wish to see its place in academic life\nincreased, not diminished. Both in England and in America, the main\nforce tending to its diminution has been the desire to get endowments\nfrom ignorant millionaires. The cure lies in the creation of an\neducated democracy, willing to spend public money on objects which our\ncaptains of industry are unable to appreciate. This is by no means\nimpossible, but it demands a general raising of the intellectual level.\nIt would be much facilitated if our learned men would more frequently\nemancipate themselves from the attitude of hangers-on of the rich,\nwhich they have inherited from a time when patrons were their natural\nsource of livelihood. It is of course possible to confound learning\nwith learned men. To take a purely imaginary example, a learned man may\nimprove his financial position by teaching brewing instead of organic\nchemistry; he gains, but learning suffers. If the learned man had a\nmore genuine love of learning, he would not be politically on the side\nof the brewer who endows a professorship of brewing. And if he were on\nthe side of democracy, democracy would be more ready to see the value\nof his learning. For all these reasons, I should wish to see learned\nbodies dependent upon public money rather than upon the benefactions\nof rich men. This evil is greater in America than in England, but it\nexists in England, and may increase.\n\nLeaving aside these political considerations, I shall assume that\nuniversities exist for two purposes: on the one hand, to train men and\nwomen for certain professions; on the other hand, to pursue learning\nand research without regard to immediate utility. We shall therefore\nwish to see at the universities those who are going to practise these\nprofessions, and those who have that special kind of ability which will\nenable them to be valuable in learning and research. But this does\nnot decide, by itself, how we are to select the men and women for the\nprofessions.\n\nAt present, it is very difficult to enter upon such a profession as\nlaw or medicine unless one\u2019s parents have a certain amount of money,\nsince the training is expensive and earnings do not begin at once.\nThe consequence is that the principle of selection is social and\nhereditary, not fitness for the work. Take medicine as illustrative.\nA community which wished to have its doctoring done efficiently would\nselect for medical training those young people who showed most keenness\nand aptitude for the work. At present this principle is applied\npartially, to select among those who can afford the training; but it\nis quite probable that many of those who would make the best doctors\nare too poor to take the course. This involves a deplorable waste of\ntalent. Let us take another example of a somewhat different kind.\nEngland is a very thickly populated country, which imports most of\nits food. From a number of points of view, but especially from that of\nsafety in war, it would be a boon if more of our food were produced\nat home. Yet no measures are taken to see that our very limited area\nis efficiently cultivated. Farmers are selected mainly by heredity:\nas a rule, they are the sons of farmers. The others are men who have\nbought farms, which implies some capital but not necessarily any\nagricultural skill. It is known that Danish methods of agriculture\nare more productive than ours, but no steps are taken to cause our\nfarmers to know about them. We ought to insist that every person\nallowed to cultivate more than a small holding should have a diploma\nin scientific agriculture, just as we insist on a motorist having a\nlicence. The hereditary principle has been abandoned in government, but\nit lingers in many other departments of life. Wherever it exists, it\npromotes the inefficiency to which it formerly led in public affairs.\nWe must replace it by two correlative rules: first, that no one shall\nbe allowed to undertake important work without having acquired the\nnecessary skill; secondly, that this skill shall be taught to the\nablest of those who desire it, quite independently of their parents\u2019\nmeans. It is obvious that these two rules would enormously increase\nefficiency.\n\nUniversity education should therefore be regarded as a privilege for\nspecial ability, and those who possess the skill but no money should be\nmaintained at the public expense during their course. No one should be\nadmitted unless he satisfies the tests of ability, and no one should be\nallowed to remain unless he satisfies the authorities that he is using\nhis time to advantage. The idea of the university as a place of leisure\nwhere rich young men loaf for three or four years is dying, but, like\nCharles II, it is an unconscionable time about it.\n\nWhen I say that a young man or woman at the university should not\nbe allowed to be idle, I must hasten to add that the tests of work\nmust not consist in a mechanical conformity to system. In the newer\nuniversities in England and America there is a regrettable tendency\nto insist upon attendance at innumerable lectures. The arguments in\nfavour of individual work, which are allowed to be strong in the case\nof infants in a Montessori school, are very much stronger in the case\nof young people of twenty, particularly when, as we are assuming,\nthey are keen and exceptionally able. When I was an undergraduate, my\nfeeling, and that of most of my friends, was that lectures were a pure\nwaste of time. No doubt we exaggerated, but not much. The real reason\nfor lectures is that they are obvious work, and therefore business men\nare willing to pay for them. If university teachers adopted the best\nmethods, business men would think them idle, and insist upon cutting\ndown the staff. Oxford and Cambridge, because of their prestige, are to\nsome extent able to apply the right methods; but the newer universities\nare unable to stand up against business men, and so are most American\nuniversities. The teacher should, at the beginning of the term, give\na list of books to be read carefully, and a slight account of other\nbooks which some may like and others not. He should set papers, which\ncan only be answered by noticing the important points in the books\nintelligently. He should see the pupils individually when they have\ndone their papers. About once a week or once a fortnight, he should see\nsuch as care to come in the evening, and have desultory conversation\nabout matters more or less connected with their work. All this is not\nvery different from the practice at the older universities. If a pupil\nchooses to set himself a paper, different from that of the teacher but\nequally difficult, he shall be at liberty to do so. The industry of the\npupils can be judged by their papers.\n\nThere is, however, one point of great importance. Every university\nteacher should be himself engaged in research, and should have\nsufficient leisure and energy to know what is being done in his subject\nin all countries. In university teaching, skill in pedagogy is no\nlonger important; what is important is knowledge of one\u2019s subject and\nkeenness about what is being done in it. This is impossible for a man\nwho is overworked and nervously exhausted by teaching. His subject is\nlikely to become distasteful to him, and his knowledge is almost sure\nto be confined to what he learnt in youth. Every university teacher\nought to have a Sabbatical year (one in every seven), to be spent in\nforeign universities or in otherwise acquiring knowledge of what is\nbeing done abroad. This is common in America, but European countries\nhave too much intellectual pride to admit that it is necessary. In this\nthey are quite mistaken. The men who taught me mathematics at Cambridge\nwere almost wholly untouched by the Continental mathematics of the\nprevious twenty or thirty years; throughout my undergraduate time, I\nnever heard the name of Weierstrass. It was only by subsequent travel\nthat I came in contact with modern mathematics. This was no rare or\nexceptional circumstance. Of many universities at many periods similar\nthings could be said.\n\nThere is in universities a certain opposition between those who care\nmost for teaching and those who care most for research. This is almost\nentirely due to a wrong conception of teaching, and to the presence of\na number of students whose industry and capacity are below the level\nwhich ought to be exacted as a condition of residence. The idea of the\nold-fashioned schoolmaster persists to some extent at universities.\nThere is a desire to have a good moral effect on students, and a wish\nto drill them in old-fashioned worthless information, largely known to\nbe false but supposed to be morally elevating. Students ought not to\nbe exhorted to work, but they should not be allowed to remain if they\nare found to be wasting their time, whether from idleness or from lack\nof ability. The only morality which can be profitably exacted is that\nof work; the rest belongs to earlier years. And the morality of work\nshould be exacted by sending away those who do not possess it, since\nevidently they had better be otherwise employed. A teacher should not\nbe expected to work long hours at teaching, and should have abundant\nleisure for research; but he should be expected to employ this leisure\nwisely.\n\nResearch is at least as important as education, when we are considering\nthe functions of universities in the life of mankind. New knowledge\nis the chief cause of progress, and without it the world would soon\nbecome stationary. It could continue, for a time, to improve by the\ndiffusion and wider use of existing knowledge, but this process, by\nitself, could not last long. And even the pursuit of knowledge, if\nit is utilitarian, is not self-sustaining. Utilitarian knowledge\nneeds to be fructified by disinterested investigation, which has no\nmotive beyond the desire to understand the world better. All the great\nadvances are at first purely theoretical, and are only afterwards found\nto be capable of practical applications. And even if some splendid\ntheory never has any practical use, it remains of value on its own\naccount; for the understanding of the world is one of the ultimate\ngoods. If science and organization had succeeded in satisfying the\nneeds of the body and in abolishing cruelty and war, the pursuit of\nknowledge and beauty would remain to exercise our love of strenuous\ncreation. I should not wish the poet, the painter, the composer or\nthe mathematician to be preoccupied with some remote effect of his\nactivities in the world of practice. He should be occupied, rather,\nin the pursuit of a vision, in capturing and giving permanence to\nsomething which he has first seen dimly for a moment, which he has\nloved with such ardour that the joys of this world have grown pale\nby comparison. All great art and all great science springs from the\npassionate desire to embody what was at first an unsubstantial phantom,\na beckoning beauty luring men away from safety and ease to a glorious\ntorment. The men in whom this passion exists must not be fettered by\nthe shackles of a utilitarian philosophy, for to their ardour we owe\nall that makes man great.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nCONCLUSION\n\n\nAt the end of our journey, let us look back over the road, to obtain a\nbird\u2019s-eye view of the country we have traversed.\n\nKnowledge wielded by love is what the educator needs and what his\npupils should acquire. In earlier years, love towards the pupils is the\nmost important kind; in later years, love of the knowledge imparted\nbecomes increasingly necessary. The important knowledge at first is\nknowledge of physiology, hygiene, and psychology, of which the last\nmore especially concerns the teacher. The instincts and reflexes with\nwhich a child is born can be developed by the environment into the\nmost diverse habits, and therefore into the most diverse characters.\nMost of this happens in very early childhood; consequently it is at\nthis period that we can most hopefully attempt to form character.\nThose who like existing evils are fond of asserting that human nature\ncannot be changed. If they mean that it cannot be changed after six\nyears old, there is a measure of truth in what they say. If they mean\nthat nothing can be done to alter the instincts and reflexes with\nwhich an infant is born, they are again more or less in the right,\nthough of course eugenics could, and perhaps will, produce remarkable\nresults even here. But if they mean, as they usually do, that there\nis no way of producing an adult population whose behaviour will be\nradically different from that of existing populations, they are flying\nin the face of all modern psychology. Given two infants with the same\ncharacter at birth, different early environments may turn them into\nadults with totally different dispositions. It is the business of early\neducation to train the instincts so that they may produce a harmonious\ncharacter, constructive rather than destructive, affectionate rather\nthan sullen, courageous, frank, and intelligent. All this can be done\nwith a great majority of children; it is actually being done where\nchildren are rightly treated. If existing knowledge were used and\ntested methods applied, we could, in a generation, produce a population\nalmost wholly free from disease, malevolence, and stupidity. We do not\ndo so, because we prefer oppression and war.\n\nThe crude material of instinct is, in most respects, equally capable\nof leading to desirable and to undesirable actions. In the past,\nmen did not understand the training of instinct, and therefore were\ncompelled to resort to repression. Punishment and fear were the great\nincentives to what was called virtue. We now know that repression is\na bad method, both because it is never really successful, and because\nit produces mental disorders. The training of instincts is a totally\ndifferent method, involving a totally different technique. Habits and\nskill make, as it were, a channel for instinct, leading it to flow one\nway or another according to the direction of the channel. By creating\nthe right habits and the right skill, we cause the child\u2019s instincts\nthemselves to prompt desirable actions. There is no sense of strain,\nbecause there is no need to resist temptation. There is no thwarting,\nand the child has a sense of unfettered spontaneity. I do not mean\nthese statements to be taken in an absolute sense; there will always be\nunforeseen contingencies in which older methods may become necessary.\nBut the more the science of child psychology is perfected, and the more\nexperience we acquire in nursery-schools, the more perfectly the new\nmethods can be applied.\n\nI have tried to bring before the reader the wonderful possibilities\nwhich are now open to us. Think what it would mean: health, freedom,\nhappiness, kindness, intelligence, all nearly universal. In one\ngeneration, if we chose, we could bring the millennium.\n\nBut none of this can come about without love. The knowledge exists;\nlack of love prevents it from being applied. Sometimes the lack of\nlove towards children brings me near to despair--for example, when I\nfind almost all our recognized moral leaders unwilling that anything\nshould be done to prevent the birth of children with venereal disease.\nNevertheless, there is a gradual liberation of love of children, which\nsurely is one of our natural impulses. Ages of fierceness have overlaid\nwhat is naturally kindly in the dispositions of ordinary men and\nwomen. It is only lately that many Christians have ceased to teach the\ndamnation of unbaptized infants. Nationalism is another doctrine which\ndries up the springs of humanity; during the war, we caused almost all\nGerman children to suffer from rickets. We must let loose our natural\nkindliness; if a doctrine demands that we should inflict misery upon\nchildren, let us reject it, however dear it may be to us. In almost all\ncases, the psychological source of cruel doctrines is fear; that is one\nreason why I have laid so much stress upon the elimination of fear in\nchildhood. Let us root out the fears that lurk in the dark places of\nour own minds. The possibilities of a happy world that are opened up by\nmodern education make it well worth while to run some personal risk,\neven if the risk were more real than it is.\n\nWhen we have created young people freed from fear and inhibitions and\nrebellious or thwarted instincts, we shall be able to open to them the\nworld of knowledge, freely and completely, without dark hidden corners;\nand if instruction is wisely given, it will be a joy rather than a task\nto those who receive it. It is not important to increase the amount of\nwhat is learnt above that now usually taught to the children of the\nprofessional classes. What is important is the spirit of adventure and\nliberty, the sense of setting out upon a voyage of discovery. If formal\neducation is given in this spirit, all the more intelligent pupils will\nsupplement it by their own efforts, for which every opportunity should\nbe provided. Knowledge is the liberator from the empire of natural\nforces and destructive passions; without knowledge, the world of our\nhopes cannot be built. A generation educated in fearless freedom will\nhave wider and bolder hopes than are possible to us, who still have to\nstruggle with the superstitious fears that lie in wait for us below\nthe level of consciousness. Not we, but the free men and women whom we\nshall create, must see the new world, first in their hopes, and then at\nlast in the full splendour of reality.\n\nThe way is clear. Do we love our children enough to take it? Or shall\nwe let them suffer as we have suffered? Shall we let them be twisted\nand stunted and terrified in youth, to be killed afterwards in futile\nwars which their intelligence was too cowed to prevent? A thousand\nancient fears obstruct the road to happiness and freedom. But love can\nconquer fear, and if we love our children nothing can make us withhold\nthe great gift which it is in our power to bestow.\n\n\nTHE END\n\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] \u201cThe Child: His Nature and His Needs.\u201d Prepared under the editorial\nsupervision of M. V. O\u2019Shea, Professor of Education, University of\nWisconsin, 1924. I shall allude to this book as \u201cO\u2019Shea\u201d.\n\n[2] Probably many of Dr. Arnold\u2019s pupils suffered from adenoids, for\nwhich medical men do not usually prescribe flogging, although they\ncause habitual idleness.\n\n[3] On fear and anxiety in childhood, see _e.g._ William Stern,\n\u201cPsychology of Early Childhood\u201d, Chap. XXXV. (Henry Holt, 1924).\n\n[4] If it be objected that, after all, the world progressed, the reply\nis that it did not progress nearly as fast as it might have done, or as\nit will do if children are wisely handled.\n\n[5] This is perhaps not strictly accurate. Most children have periods\nof apparent stagnation, which cause anxiety to inexperienced parents.\nBut probably throughout these periods there is progress in ways that\nare not easily perceptible.\n\n[6] \u201cStudies in Infant Psychology\u201d, _Scientific Monthly_, December,\n1921, p. 506.\n\n[7] I came to know of these passages from a quotation in Dr. Paul\nBousfield\u2019s \u201cSex and Civilization\u201d, where the same point of view is\nstrongly advocated.\n\n[8] I think this fear was the same as the fear of mechanical toys. He\nsaw her first asleep, and thought she was a doll; when she moved he was\nstartled.\n\n[9] The method adopted with me at the same age was to pick me up by the\nheels and hold my head under water for some time. This method, oddly\nenough, succeeded in making me like the water; nevertheless I do not\nrecommend it.\n\n[10] See Bousfield, \u201cSex and Civilization\u201d, _passim_.\n\n[11] Cf. \u201cThe Nervous Child\u201d by Dr. H. C. Cameron (3rd ed., Oxford,\n1924), p. 32 ff.\n\n[12] See _e.g._ \u201cThe Secret Corps\u201d, by Captain Ferdinand Tuohy, Chap.\nVI, (Murray, 1920).\n\n[13] Hodder and Stoughton, 1925.\n\n[14] \u201cThe Montessori Method\u201d (Heinemann, 1912), p. 103.\n\n[15] See Dr. H. C. Cameron, \u201cThe Nervous Child\u201d, Chaps. IV and V.\n\n[16] In very rare instances, it does a little harm, but this is easily\ncured and is not more serious than the results of thumb-sucking.\n\n[17] On this subject, _cf._ \u201cThe Nursery-School\u201d, by Margaret McMillan\n(Dent, 1919), p. 197.\n\n[18] Although Miss McMillan is American, I understand that the\nimportance of nursery-schools is even less appreciated in America than\nin England. As, however, there are not the financial difficulties which\nexist in Europe, it may be hoped that the movement will soon become\nwide-spread in the United States. There is no mention of it in O\u2019Shea\u2019s\nbook, though the need of it is evident from his remarks on p. 182.\n\n[19] See Montessori, \u201cThe Montessori Method\u201d (Heinemann, 1912), p. 42\nff.\n\n[20] O\u2019Shea, p. 386.\n\n[21] Are we to infer that culture consists in carrying a hip-flask? The\ndefinition seems applicable.\n\n[22] In those days, in England, the State bore only part of the expense\nof the school; this part was called a \u201cgrant\u201d, and depended upon the\nsuccess of the children in examinations.\n\n[23] The arguments in favour of segregating the able children are well\nstated in O\u2019Shea, Chap. XIV.\n\n\n\n\nTRANSCRIBER\u2019S NOTES:\n\n\n  Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.\n\n  Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.\n\n  Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.\n\n  Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.\n\n  The cover image for this eBook was created by the transcriber and is\n    entered into the public domain.","title":"Education and the good life","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":68273}