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and character to take the direction, for instance, of important college
departments. Men of power and skill are in demand everywhere, and
not enough can be found for responsible positions. One half the fault
is insufficient education.

There is another phase of power that must not be neglected, the

power to enjoy, to be rich in emotional life. Knowledge, properly
pursued, is a source of rich and refined intellectual emotions. There
is joy in discovery, joy in the freedom and grasp of thought.
Æsthetic power, based upon fine discrimination, finds a perpetual
joy in sky and sea, and mountain and forest, in music and poetry, in
sentiment and song. Our Teutonic ancestors were better seers than
we. The morning sun and the midnight darkness were perpetually to
them a new birth. The leaves whispered to them divine messages;
the storms and the seasons, the fruitful earth, were full of wonder
and sacred mysteries. They were poets. This matter-of-fact age will
yet return to the primitive regard for nature, a regard enlightened and
refined by science. Men will yet find in the most commonplace fact of
nature mystery, poetry, ground for reverence, and faith in a God.
The power of enjoyment alone does not give a fruitful life. It is in
the moment of action that we gain the habit that makes power for
action. As a philosopher recently expressed it: Do not allow your
finer emotions to evaporate without finding expression in some
useful act, if it is nothing but speaking kindly to your grandmother, or
giving up your seat in a horse car.
There has been a weak and harmful philosophy in vogue for years
that would place the natural and the useful in the line of the
agreeable. Even extreme evolution fails signally to show that the
agreeable is always teleological, that is, always directed toward
useful ends. The latest teaching of physiological psychology takes us
back to the stern philosophy of the self-denying Puritan, and shows
that we must conquer our habitual inclinations, and encounter some
disagreeable duty every day to prepare for the emergencies that
demand men of stern stuff. George Eliot proclaims the same thought
with philosophical insight, that we are not to wait for great
opportunities for glory, but by daily, drudging performance of little
duties are to get ready for the arrival of the great opportunities. We
must prepare for our eagle flights by many feeble attempts of our
untried pinions.
If one but work, no matter in what line of higher scholastic pursuit,
he will in a few years waken to a consciousness of power that makes
him one of the leaders. There is every encouragement to the student
to persevere, in the certain assurance that sooner or later he will
reach attainments beyond his present clear conception.
Our inheritance is a glorious one. The character of the Anglo-
Saxons is seen throughout their history. Amid the clash of weapons
they fought with a fierce energy and a strange delight. They rode the
mighty billows and sang heroic songs with the wild joy of the sea
fowl. Later we find them contending earnestly for their beliefs. Then
they grew into the Puritan sternness of character, abounding in the
sense of duty. Their character has made them the leaders and
conquerors of the world. It finds expression in the progress and
influence of America. This energy has gradually become more and
more refined and humanized, and, in its highest and best form, it is
the heritage of every young man; and by the pride of ancestry, by the
character inherited, by the opportunity of his age, he is called upon
to wield strongly the weapon of Thor and hammer out his destiny
with strong heart and earnest purpose.
 MORAL TRAINING.

We shall not discuss the philosophical systems which underlie

ethical theories, nor the theories themselves which consider the
nature of the moral sense and the supreme aim of life, but shall treat
practical ethics as a part of didactics, and as a part of that unspoken
influence which should be the constant ally of instruction. It is not the
purpose to present anything new, but rather to give confidence in
methods that are well known and are successfully employed by
skilful and devoted teachers.

The formation of right habits is the first step toward good

character. Aristotle gives this fact special emphasis. Here are some
detached sentences from his ethics: “Moral virtue is the outcome of
habit, and, accordingly, its name is derived by a slight deflection from
habit.... It is by playing the harp that both good and bad harpists are
produced, and the case of builders and all artisans is similar, as it is
by building well that they will be good builders, and by building badly
that they will be bad builders.... Accordingly, the difference between
one training of the habits and another, from early days, is not a light
matter, but is serious or all-important.” Aristotle here expresses a
truth that has become one of the tritest. All mental dispositions are
strengthened by repetition. We learn to observe by observing, to
remember by exercising memory, to create by training the
imagination, to reason by acts of inference. Passions grow by
indulgence and diminish by restraint; the finer emotions gain strength
by use. Courage, endurance, firmness are established by frequently
facing dangers and difficulties. By practice, disagreeable acts may
become a pleasure.
It is by practice that the mind gets possession of the body, that the
separate movements of the child become correlated, and the most
complex acts are performed with ease and accuracy. Physiological
psychology has confirmed and strengthened the doctrine of habit.
The functions of the brain and mental actions are correlated. A nerve
tract once established in the brain, and action along that line recurs
with increasing spontaneity. New lines of communication are formed
with difficulty. Each physical act controlled by lower nerve centres
leaves a tendency in those centres to repeat the act.
The inference is obvious and important. Whatever we wish the
adult man to be, we must help him to become by early practice.
Childhood is the period when tendencies are most easily
established. The mind is teachable and receives impressions readily;
around those cluster kindred impressions, and the formation of
character is already begun. The brain and other nerve centres are
plastic, and readily act in any manner not inconsistent with their
natural functions. As they begin they tend to act thereafter.
Dr. Harris called attention a few years ago to the ethical import of
the ordinary requirements and prohibitions of the schoolroom.
Promptness, obedience, silence, respect, right positions in sitting
and standing, regard for the rights of others, were named as helping
to form habits that would make the child self-controlled and fit him to
live in society.
Whatever you would wish the child to do and become, that let him
practise. We learn to do, not by knowing, but by knowing and then
doing. Ethical teaching, tales of heroic deeds, soul-stirring fiction that
awakens sympathetic emotions may accomplish but little, unless in
the child’s early life regard for the right, little acts of heroism, and
deeds of sympathy are employed; unless the ideas and feeling find
expression in action, and so become a part of the child’s power and
tendency. George Eliot would have us make ready for great deeds
by constant performance of little duties at hand.
Right habit is the only sure foundation for character. Sudden
resolutions to change the tenor of life, sudden conversion from an
evil life to one of ideal goodness are usually failures, because the old
tendencies will hold on grimly until the new impulse, however great,
has gradually evaporated. To prepare for the highest moral life and a
persevering religious life, early habits of the right kind are the only
secure foundation.
The teacher may have confidence in the value of requiring of
pupils practice in self-restraint, practice in encountering difficulties
that demand a little of courage, a little even of heroism—and each
day furnishes opportunities. Pleasure may not always attend their
efforts, but pleasure will come soon enough as a reward, in
consciousness of strength and of noble development. Often we do
wrong because it is pleasant, and avoid the right because it is
painful. By habit we come to find pleasure in right action, and then
the action is a true virtue as held by the Greek philosophers. Aristotle
remarks: “Hence the importance of having had a certain training from
very early days, as Plato says, such a training as produces pleasure
and pain at the right objects; for this is the true education.”

The personality of the teacher is a potent factor in moral

education. Perfection is not expected of the teacher; none ever
attained it except the Great Prototype. All that we can say of the best
man is that he averages high. The teacher who does not possess to
a somewhat marked degree some quality eminently worthy of
imitation will hardly be of the highest value in his profession. I
remember with gratitude two men, each of whom impressed me with
a noble quality that made an important contribution at the time to my
thought, feeling, action, and growth. The ideal of one was action—
energetic, persevering action—and he was a notable example of his
ideal. His precept without his example would have been almost
valueless. The other was a noble advocate of ideal thought, and his
mind was always filled with the highest conceptions; moreover, in
many large ways he exemplified his precept. His acquaintance was
worth more than that of a thousand others who are satisfied with a
commonplace view of life.
Minds that are not speculative, are not ingenious and creative, will
hardly make their own ideals, or even be taught by abstractions.
They can, however, readily comprehend the living embodiment of
virtue, and there is still enough of our ancestral monkey
imitativeness remaining to give high value to example.
And it is important that the influence of the teacher shall not be
merely a personal magnetism that influences only when it is present,
but a quality that shall command respect in memory and help to
establish principles of conduct. The influence should be one that will
be regarded without the sanction of the personal relation. He who is
wholly ruled either by fear or by love gains no power of self-control,
and will be at a loss when thrown upon his own responsibility in the
world of conflict and temptations. Character must be formed by habit
and guided by principle.

The world’s moral heroes are few. Since they can not be our daily
companions, we turn to biography and history, that their personality
and deeds may be painted in our imagination. Concrete teaching is
adapted to children, and select tales of great and noble men, vivid
descriptions of deeds worthy of emulation may early impress their
minds with unfading pictures that will stand as archetypes for their
future character and conduct. Hence the value of mythology, of Bible
stories, and Plutarch.
It is unnecessary to add that such literature should be at the
command of every teacher, and there is enough adapted to every
grade of work. Throughout the period of formal historic study
important use should be made of the ethical character of men and
events. The pupil thus fills his mind with examples from which he
may draw valuable inferences, and with which he may illustrate
principles of action. The ethical sense is developed through relations
of the individual to society, and the broader the scope of vision, the
more just will be the estimate of human action.
Ideal literature, the better class of fiction and poetry, which not only
reaches the intellect, but touches the feeling and brings the motive
powers in harmony with ideal characters, deeds, and aspirations,
may have the highest value in forming the ethical life of the pupil.
Here is presented the very essence of the best ideas and feelings of
humanity—thoughts that burn, emotions of divine quality, desires
that go beyond our best realizations, acts that are heroic—all painted
in vivid colors. By reading we enter into the life of greater souls, we
share their aspirations, we make their treasure our own. A large
share of the moralization of the world is done by this process of
applying poetry to life.
There is, however, one important caution. There is a difference
between sentiment and sentimentality. The latter weakens the mind
and will; it is to be avoided as slow poison that will finally undermine
a strong constitution. There must be a certain vigor in ideal
sentiment that will not vanish in mawkish feeling, but will give tone
for noble action. It is a question whether sentiment that sheds tears,
and never, in consequence, does an additional praiseworthy act, has
worth. You know the literature that leaves you with a feeling of stupid
satiety, and you know that which gives you the feeling of strength in
your limbs, and clearness in your intellect, and earnestness in your
purpose, and determination in your will.
Use ideal literature from the earliest school days of the child;
choose it with a wisdom that comes from a careful analysis of the
subject and a knowledge of the adaptation of a particular selection to
the end proposed. And when you reach the formal study of literature,
find in it something more than dates, events, grammar, and rhetoric;
find in it beauty, truth, goodness, and insight that will expand the
mind and improve character.

There is much truth in the criticism that condemns precept without

example; the two go together, the one is a complement of the other.
We act in response to ideas, and a rule of action clearly understood
and adopted will often be applied in a hundred specific instances that
fall under it. A teacher of tact and skill can gain the interest of
children to know the meaning and understand the application of
many rich generalizations from human experiences that have passed
into proverbs. The natural result of conduct which we condemn may
be pointed out, with often a noticeable increase of regard for duty
and prudence. We may not expect consistency of character,
firmness of purpose, rigid observance of honesty, truthfulness,
honor, and sympathy until the course of life is directed by principles
that have taken firm hold of the mind.
When moral instruction in school passes into what the boys call
preaching, the zealous teacher often dulls the point of any possible
interest in the subject, and thereby defeats his purpose. Sometimes
we, in our feeling of responsibility, trust too little to the better instincts
of childhood, the influence of good surroundings, and the leavening
power of all good work in the regular course of instruction.
For the purpose of moral instruction in the schools we should take
the broad view of the Greek ethics. As summed up by Professor
Green the Good Will aims (1) to know what is true and create what is
beautiful; (2) to endure pain and fear; (3) to resist the allurements of
false pleasure; (4) to take for one’s self and to give to others, not
what one is inclined to, but what is due. This is larger than the
conventional moral code. It makes virtues not only of justice and
temperance, but of courage and wisdom. By implication it condemns
cowardice and lazy ignorance. It urges one to strive for the
realization of all his best possibilities, to enlarge his powers, his
usefulness, and aim at the gradual perfection of his being through
the worthy use of all his energies. It does not dwell morbidly on petty
distinctions of casuistry, but generously expands the soul to receive
wisdom, the wisdom that regards all good.
We are creatures of numerous native impulses, all useful in their
proper exercise. Each impulse is susceptible of growth until it
becomes predominant. The lower animals follow their instincts. Man
is rational, has the power to discriminate, to estimate right and
wrong, to educate and be educated. He is called upon to subordinate
some impulses and to cultivate others. The child is full of power of
action, and it must be exercised in some direction. The work of the
teacher is to invite the native impulses that reach out toward right
and useful things, by offering the proper objects for their exercise.
When these tendencies of the child’s being are encouraged, his
growth will be ethical.
 What is the relation of the doctrine of duty to the practical subject
in hand? This is a question that rests upon the broad foundation of
philosophy and religion, and we cannot discuss the grounds of belief.
We may believe that the sense of duty is indispensable to moral
character. True, much has been done in the name of duty that has
been harmful and repellent. Many things have been thought to be
duty that would rule healthful spontaneity and cheerfulness and
needful recreation out of life, and place the child under a solemn
restraint that rests on his spirit like an incubus and drives him to
rebellion and sin. We do not mean duty in this caricature of the
reality. But this is a world in which the highest good is to be obtained
by courage to overcome evil and difficulty. The great Fichte said: “I
have found out now that man’s will is free, and that not happiness,
but worthiness is the end of our being.” And Professor Royce in the
same vein says: “The spiritual life isn’t a gentle or an easy thing....
Spirituality consists in being heroic enough to accept the tragedy of
existence, and to glory in the strength wherewith it is given to the
true lords of life to conquer this tragedy, and to make their world,
after all, divine.” In the name of evolution and physiological
psychology much good has been done in driving to the realm of
darkness, whence it emanated, the spirit of harshness and cruelty in
education and in discipline; at the same time much harm has been
done by superficial interpreters by the attempt to make all education
and training a pleasure. The highest good cannot be gained without
struggle. Character cannot be formed without struggle. You and I
would give nothing for acquisitions that have cost us nothing. While
the child’s will is to be invited in the right direction by every worthy
motive that tends to make the path pleasant, the child at the same
time should know by daily experience that some things must be
because they are right, because they are part of his duty; that they
may be at first disagreeable and require stern effort. Only then will
he be prepared to resist temptation, and to actively pursue a course
that will lead toward the perfection of his being and toward a life of
usefulness. Along the paths of pleasure are the wrecks of
innumerable lives, and this view is one of the greatest practical
importance in the every-day work of the schoolroom.

All proper education is ethical education. How the teacher

encourages the acquisition of truth! With what care he corrects error
in experiment and inference! With what zeal he leads the pupil to
further knowledge! With what feeling he points out beauty in natural
forms and in literary art! With what hope he encourages him to
overcome difficulties! With what solicitude he regards his ways and
his choice of company! What use he makes of every opportunity to
emphasize a lesson of justice in this little society of children, which is
in many ways a type of the larger society into which the child is to
enter! If teachers are learned and skilful, and of strong character, if
they awaken interest in studies and not disgust, if they have insight
into the moral order of the world as revealed in all departments of
learning, the whole curriculum of study, from the kindergarten to the
university, will be a disclosure of ethical conceptions, a practice of
right activity, an encouragement of right aim. If the better tendencies
of the child’s nature are repelled instead of invited, in so far will
instruction lack the ethical element. And herein lies the great
responsibility of the teacher for his own education, methods, and
personal influence.
What are the schools doing for moral training? We believe they
are doing much that is satisfactory and encouraging. The public
schools have at their command the various ethical forces. They form
right habits by every-day requirements of the schoolroom; they
provide the personal influence of teachers whose good character is
the first passport to their position; they employ the lessons of history
and literature, and in distinct ways impart principles of right conduct;
they inspire courage to overcome difficulties; they direct the better
impulses of children toward discovery in the great world of truth, and,
by the very exercise of power required in the process of education,
prepare them for life.
 CAN VIRTUE BE TAUGHT?

On a certain occasion Socrates assumed the rôle of listener, while

Protagoras discoursed upon the theme “Can Virtue Be Taught?”
Protagoras shows that there are some essential qualities which,
regardless of specific calling, should be common to all men, such as
justice, temperance, and holiness—in a word, manly virtue. He holds
it absurd and contrary to experience to assume that virtue cannot be
taught. He says that, in fact, “Education and admonition commence
in the first years of childhood, and last to the very end of life.” Mother
and nurse, and father and tutor ceaselessly set forth to the child
what is just or unjust, honorable or dishonorable, holy or unholy; the
teachers look to his manners, and later put in his hands the works of
the great poets, full of moral examples and teachings; the instructor
of the lyre imparts harmony and rhythm; the master of gymnastics
trains the body to be minister to the virtuous mind; and when the
pupil has completed his work with the instructors, the state compels
him to learn the laws, and live after the pattern which they furnish.
“Cease to wonder, Socrates, whether virtue can be taught.”
We can but accept the principles of Protagoras, that the essential
qualities of a rational and moral being are to be considered at each
stage of growth and in all relations of life; that all education is to be
the ally of virtue. We can but accept, too, the fact that guidance,
instruction, and authority help to bring the child to self-realization,
and help to determine modes of conduct. The remaining question
relates to the ways and means adapted to a given stage of
education. When the pupil enters the high school he is already a
trained being. His training, however, has been more or less
mechanical. He is now at an age when his capacity, his studies, and
his social relations admit him to a broader field—a field in which he
makes essays at independent action; when his physical
development brings new problems and dangers; when contact with
the world begins to acquaint him with the vicious maxims of selfish
men; when there is a tendency to break away from the moral codes,
without the wisdom of experience to guide him in his growing
freedom. It is a critical period—one that tests in new ways his mental
and moral balance. If the pupil is not wrecked here, he has many
chances in his favor, although the college or business life or society
may later sorely tempt him. That the teachings and influences of the
period of secondary education have much to do with making
character is recognized by the colleges. Some schools become
known for the vigor of their intellectual and ethical training, and the
successful preparation of their pupils to meet the demands and
temptations of college life. The subject of ethics in the high school
thus becomes a proper one for inquiry.
Shall we employ the formal study of ethics? Hardly. The scientific
or theoretical treatment of the subject belongs to the period of
reflection, of subjective insight, and should follow psychology, if not
philosophy. Such study hardly accomplishes much practically until
experience and reflection have given one an interest in the deepest
problems of life. It belongs to a period when the commonplaces are
fraught with meaning, when a rational conviction has the force which
Socrates gave to insight into wisdom—when to understand virtue is
to conform the life to it. But, nevertheless, the whole period of high-
school work should be a contribution to the end of moral character.
Let us get rid, at the outset, of the idea that a moral life is a
mechanical obedience to rules and conventionalities, a cut-and-dried
affair, a matter that lies in but one province of our nature, a
formalism, and learn that the whole being, its purposes and
activities, the heroic impulses and the commonplace duties lie within
its circle. Everything a man is and does, learns and becomes,
constitutes his moral character.
Ethics is the science of conduct—conduct on both its subjective
and its objective side. It considers the relation of the self to all
consequences of an act as foreseen and chosen by the self, and to
the same consequences as outwardly expressed. Practically it
teaches control of impulse with reference to results as expressing
and revealing the character—results both immediate and remote.
Some acts show a one-sided inclination, uncontrolled by regard for
the claims of other and better impulses; only a part of the individual
is asserted, not the whole self in perfect balance. For example, the
pupil plays truant, acting with sole regard for the impulse to seek
ease and sensuous pleasure. He neglects other more important
impulses, all of which might have been satisfied by attending
faithfully to his school duties: the impulse of ambition, to gain power
and become a useful and successful citizen; the desire for culture,
with all its superior values; the impulse of wonder, leading ever to the
acquisition of knowledge; the impulse of admiration, to seek and
appreciate the beautiful; the filial and social affections, which regard
the feelings and wishes of the home and the sentiments of
companions; the impulse to gratitude, as shown toward parents and
teachers; the sentiment of reverence, as shown toward law and
order and those who stand as their representatives. And all these
neglected demands rise up and condemn him; he is divided from
himself and his fair judgment, is not his complete self. On the other
hand, the pupil spends the day in devotion to work, he maintains the
integrity and balance of his nature, gives each impulse due
consideration and makes a symmetrical and moral advance in his
development. In restraining the impulse to play truant, he does
justice to all the claims of his being; the resulting values as estimated
in subjective experiences are the highest possible—the act is good.
The problem, then, is to bring the pupil to a fuller understanding of
the character of his impulses to action, and the relative value of
each. In many ways the neglected elements of his nature may be
brought into consciousness and emphasized. Everything that creates
conceptions of ideal conduct, all concrete illustrations in the social
life of the school, all conscious exercise of power in right ways,
contribute toward his self-realization. The high-school pupil has not
had a large personal experience; hence the need, in the ways
proposed, of teaching virtue. In the first place, the situation is
advantageous. It is conceded by every school of ethical thinkers that
one finds his moral awakening in contact with society. Society is the
mirror in which one sees a reflection of himself, and comes to realize
himself and his character. The school of the people, which is in an
important sense an epitome of that larger world which he is to enter,
furnishes an admirable field for development. Moreover, it is a
community where the restraint, the guidance, the ideals come of
right from properly constituted authority. The whole problem of
objective relations and corresponding subjective values may find
illustration and experiment in the daily life of the school. The
constructive imagination may be employed to infer from experiences
in school to larger experiences of kindred quality in the field of life.
By judging real or supposed cases of conduct the pupil makes at
least a theoretical choice. By learning and interpreting characters
and events in history his view is broadened.
The whole school curriculum should contribute to moral
development. Whatever of intellect, emotion, and will is exercised in
a rational field expands the soul normally. The pursuit of studies with
the right spirit, and with regard for the activities and relations
incidental thereto, is moral growth. Studies awaken rational interest,
cultivate habits of industry, are devoted to the discovery of truth,
reveal important relations of the individual to society, and present the
purest ideals of the race. There is hardly a more valuable moralizer
than healthy employment itself, employment that engages the whole
man—perception, imagination, thought, emotion, and will—
employment that looks toward ennobling and useful consequences,
employment that has the sanction of every consideration that
regards man’s full development. If the studies of the high-school
course do not make for good, it is because they fail to get hold of the
pupil, to awaken his interest and energies. If the subject matter and
the instruction are adapted to the pupil’s need, if conceptions are
clearly grasped, if healthy interest is aroused and the attention turns
spontaneously to the work, the pupil’s growth will be in every way
beneficent. One who regards the moral development of his pupils will
conscientiously study the method of his teaching, and learn whether
the source of neglect and rebellion lies there.
The personality of the teacher is one of the most important factors
in ethical training. It is ethics teaching by example; it is the living
embodiment of conduct. The ideas that find expression in the life of
the teacher are likely to be imitated. The sympathy of the teacher
with the endeavor of the pupil infuses life into his effort. We do not
refer to a certain kind of personal magnetism; this may be pernicious
in the extreme. It may exist to the extent of partially hypnotizing the
independent life of the pupil, robbing him for a time of part of his
individuality. The ideal instructor should be earnest and noble,
impressing one with the goodness, dignity, and meaning of life. An
easy-going regard for duties, a half-way attachment to labor are sure
to impress themselves on the minds of pupils; as readily will honor,
sincerity, and pure ideals be reflected in their endeavors. You will
ask: What are some of the specific ways in which a teacher may
direct his efforts? We often look far for the means of accomplishment
when they are already at hand. The means of moral influence are
not the exclusive possession of learning or genius; they may be used
by every teacher, and we should have faith in what the schools are
already doing to make good character. The successful use of
methods depends upon the teacher’s judgment and tact. One may
do harm by conscientious but ill-directed effort. With Solomon we
must remember that there is a time for everything. Amongst other
impulses, natural or acquired, the pupil has impulses to regard
honor, honesty, truthfulness, gentlemanliness, good thoughts,
respect, gratitude, sympathy, industry, usefulness. In a fit of rage,
with desire to harm the object of his vindictiveness, he may disregard
nearly every one of the above qualities. The impulse of anger acts
blindly, heedless of external consequences and of the subjective
values that attach to the execution of every desire. All cases of bad
conduct, varying in degree, show a similar disproportionate estimate
of the value of motives. Our problem is to plant in the consciousness
of the pupil an appreciation of neglected qualities. It may be noted in
passing that there are some cases of physical tendency, amounting
to monomania. Conscious wrong never is able fully to conceal itself,
and when the truth becomes evident to the teacher, as it may, he
should seek the confidence of the home, and through the home the
influence upon the pupil of a trusted physician who possesses both
medical skill and moral force.
In approaching the specific ways of moral education, we may first
make our obeisance to habit. The limitations as to time, place, and
activity, which are incidental to all school life, help to form habits
which turn the growing youth still more from the condition of
uncontrolled liberty into one of well-regulated conduct, civilize him,
and make him a fit member of society. Habits of regard for the rights
of others further lay the foundation of altruism. Habit has its value. It
establishes tendencies of conduct, although in a more or less
mechanical way, which make easier the adherence to virtue in the
advanced period of reflective insight. Too, these same duties
mechanically performed may later be known in their full significance,
and become moral acts.
The judicious use of maxims, also, has a value. Maxims are the
first formal expression of the experience of the race as to the things
to do or avoid. Since we act from ideas, maxims may serve
practically for many concrete cases. This is especially true if the full
meaning of a maxim has been presented. Next to maxims, and
greater in importance, are the events and characters of history and
biography. Embodied virtues and vices, real events that show the
movements and reveal the motives of a people, appeal strongly to
the interest. Yet, being remote in time and place, they allow the
freest discussion and may be made permanent types for the
instruction and improvement of mankind. The value lies in the fact
that qualities thus known hasten the self-realization of the same
qualities. The life of a Socrates, an Aristides, of a Cato, a
Savonarola, a Luther, a Cromwell, a Lincoln, a Whittier, of all men
and women who exemplify virtue, heroism, self-denial, all struggles
for the right, are the high-water mark for every aspiring nature. And
in the teaching of history and biography it is not necessary at every
turn to deliver a homily; rather lead the pupil into the spirit and
understanding of the subject—some things shine with their own light.
A yet more fertile source of ideal conceptions is the choice
literature of the world. From this rich treasury we draw the poetry
which we apply to life. In literature truth is given life and color,
idealized and made attractive. Qualities are abstracted, refined,
perfected, and glorified. They serve to show us the meaning of those
qualities in us. Literature presents emotions that in their purity and
refinement seem to transcend the material world; heroes and
martyrs idealized and embodying self-sacrifice and devotion;
sentiments that touch the whole range of chords in the heart and
awaken tenderness or heroism. The pupil reads Homer and gains
conceptions of heroic virtues; the “Lays of Ancient Rome,” and gains
ideas of perfect honor and devotion to country; Tennyson, and he
follows the pure conceptions and feels that life has taken on a nobler
coloring; Carlyle’s doctrine of work and duty, and feels his moral
sinews strengthened. Thoughts that aspire, emotions of
transcendent worth, courage, heroism, benevolence, devotion to
country or humanity—all these are at the command of the instructor,
if he has the skill to lead the pupil into the spirit and understanding of
literature. If he has not the skill, let him not touch it.
The study of science itself offers opportunities. Science searches
for truth, judges not hastily, removes all prejudice, employs the
judicial spirit. It should suggest lessons in fairness, justice, and truth
in the field of human conduct. Hasty inference, prejudiced judgment
are responsible for half the sins of this world, and the scientific spirit
should be made to pass from the abstract field over into practical life.
Something can be done by daily assembly of pupils. While men
have various occupations, there are certain interests that belong to
men as men, as human beings. As there are hymns set to noble
music which are sung for centuries without diminution of interest,
because they are adapted to the want of man’s essential nature, so
there are gems of æsthetic and ethical literature which have stood
the test of time and are approved by common consent. The reading
of vigorous, healthful selections can but have an influence sooner or
later upon the listener. The teacher, in a brief address, may express
some thought or experience or ideal or sentiment, that will reach the
inner life. In no way, however, will the good sense and skill of the
teacher be put to severer test than in the selection of these
teachings. They easily become monotonous instead of giving vital
interest.
Professor John Dewey, in an admirable article on the subject of
interest, defines it thus: “Interest is impulse functioning with
reference to an idea of self-expression.” He further says: “The real
object of desire is not pleasure, but self-expression.... The pleasure
felt is simply the reflex of the satisfaction which the self is
anticipating in its own expression.... Pleasure arrives, not as the goal
of an impulse, but as an accompaniment of the putting forth of
activity.” These expressions mean simply that the human being has
native impulses to activity; that these impulses, under rational
control, aim at proper ends; that pleasure is not the end of action but
merely accompanies the putting forth of activity; that interest is the
mental excitement that arises when the self-active mind has an end
in view and the means of its attainment—a feeling that binds the
attention to the end and the means. His doctrine denies hedonism.
We are not to aim at a good, but to act the good. We are not to work
for the pleasure, but to find pleasure in working. This is a doctrine of
vast importance to the educator. External and unworthy rewards for
effort are false motives. The work itself must furnish interest,
because suited to the activities of the pupil. The great problem of the
teacher is to invite a self-activity that finds its reward in the activity.
False motives should not be held before pupils. There is a view of
life called romanticism, the condemnation of which gives Nordau his
one virtue. The adherents claim for themselves the fill of a constantly
varying round of completely satisfying emotional life. The history of
prominent adherents of this view is a warning to this generation. The
devotees either become rational and satirize their own folly, or
become pessimists, railing at the whole that life has to offer, or
commit suicide, and thus well rid the world of their useless presence.
Carlyle points out that not all the powers of christendom combined
could suffice to make even one shoeblack happy. If he had one half
the universe he would set about the conquest of the other half. And
then follows the grand exhortation to useful labor, the performance of
duty, as the lasting source of satisfaction. If we do not find happiness
therein, we may get along without happiness and, instead thereof,
find blessedness. This is the doctrine of Goethe’s Faust. Faust at
first wishes to enjoy everything and do nothing. He runs the whole
round of pleasure, of experience, and emotional life, and finds
satisfaction in nothing. Finally, in the second book, he finds the
supreme moment in the joy of useful labor for his fellow men. It is to
be noted, however, that as soon as he is fully satisfied he dies, as,
metaphorically, people in that state always do. Pleasure does not
make life worth living, but living the fulness of our nature is living a
life of worth.
 Laying aside all theories, even the theoretical correctness of what
follows, it is necessary to hold practically to the transcendental will.
This is a large word, but it means simply going over beyond the mere
solicitation of present pleasure, and holding with wisdom and
courage to the claims of all the impulses of our being—in a word,
living a life of integrity. The transcendental will can suffer and
persevere and refuse pleasure, and endure and work out good and
useful results. It is important to give pupils a little touch of the heroic,
else they will be the sport of every wind that blows and least of all be
able to withstand the tempest or the wintry blast.
There is a well-worn figure of speech, essentially Platonic in its
character, which, once well in the mind of a young man or woman,
will surely influence the life for good. As the healthy tree grows and
expands in symmetry, beauty, and strength, and blossoms and yields
useful fruit, instead of being dwarfed or growing in distorted and ugly
forms, so the normal soul should expand and develop in vigor and
beauty of character, and blossom and yield a life of usefulness. A
stunted soul, one that has gone all awry, is a spectacle over which
men and gods may weep. In some way the nobility of life, the
grandeur of upright character must be impressed upon the mind of
youth.
And moral growth must be growth in freedom. Rules and maxims,
petty prohibitions, and restraints alone will not make morality, but
rather bare mechanism and habit. Moral freedom means that, by an
insight that comes of right development, one views the full bearing of
any problem of conduct, and chooses with a wisdom that is his own.
Morality is not mechanism, but insight. Doctrine does not constitute
morality. Pharisaism is immorality and will drive any one to rebellion
and sin. Mechanical rule has no vitalizing power. A moral life should
be self-active, vigorous, joyous, and free. So far as spontaneous
conduct can be made to take the place of rule and restraint will you
secure a growth that will expand, when, well-rooted by your fostering
care, you finally leave it to struggle with the elements.
Following in substance the thought of a prominent educator,—not
so much pedagogical preaching as skilful stimulating, not so much
perfect ideals as present activities, not so much compulsion as
inviting self-activity are to-day the needs of the schools. Through
guidance of present interest the child may later attain to the greater
interests of life in their full comprehension.