_THEADVANCED MONTESSORI METHOD_ SPONTANEOUS ACTIVITYIN EDUCATION BY MARIA MONTESSORI AUTHOR OF "THE MONTESSORI METHOD, " "PEDAGOGICALANTHROPOLOGY, " ETC. TRANSLATED FROM THE ITALIAN BYFLORENCE SIMMONDS [Illustration: company logo] NEW YORKFREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANYPUBLISHERS _Copyright, 1917, by_FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY _All rights reserved, including that of translation intoforeign languages_. Printed in the U. S. A. CONTENTS CHAPTER I A SURVEY OF THE CHILD'S LIFE Laws of the child's psychical life paralleled by those of its physical. Current objections to a system of education based upon "liberty" Hygiene has freed the infant from straps and swaddling clothes and left it free to develop Education must leave the soul free to develop Principle of liberty in education not a principle of abandonment The liberty accorded the child of to-day is purely physical. Civil rights of the child in the twentieth century. Removal of perils of disease a step toward physical liberation Supplying the child's physical needs is not sufficient Child's social rights overlooked in the administration of orphan asylums Poor child's health and property confiscated in the custom of wet nursing We recognize justice only for those who can defend themselves How we receive the infants that come into the world. Home has no furnishings adapted to their small size Society prepares a mockery for their reception in the shape of useless toys Child not allowed to act for himself Constant interruption of his activities prevents psychical growth Bodily health suffers from spiritual neglect With man the life of the body depends on the life of the spirit. Reflex action of the emotions on the body functions Child's body requires joy as much as food and air CHAPTER II A SURVEY OF MODERN EDUCATION The precepts which govern moral education and instruction. Child expected to acquire virtues by imitation, instead of development Domination of the child's will the basis of education It is the teacher who forms the child's mind. How he teaches. Teacher's path beset with difficulties under the present system Advanced experts prepare the schemata of instruction Some outlines of "model lessons" used in the schools Comparison of a "model lesson" for sense development with the Montessori method Experimental psychology, not speculative psychology, the basis of Montessori teaching False conceptions of the "art of the teacher" illustrated by model lessons Positive science makes its appearance in the schools Discoveries of medicine: distortions and diseases Science has not fulfilled its mission in its dealings with children. Diseases of school children treated, causes left undisturbed Discoveries of experimental psychology: overwork; nervous exhaustion Science is confronted by a mass of unsolved problems. Laws governing fatigue still unknown Toxines produced by fatigue and their antitoxins Joy in work the only preventative of fatigue Real experimental science, which shall liberate the child, not yet born CHAPTER III MY CONTRIBUTION TO EXPERIMENTAL SCIENCE The organization of the psychical life begins with thecharacteristic phenomenon of attention. Incident which led Dr. Montessori to define her method Psychical development is organized by the aid of external stimuli, which may be determined experimentally. Tendency to develop his latent powers exists in the child's nature Environment should contain the means of auto-education External stimuli may be determined in quality and quantity. Educative material used should contain in itself the _control of error_ Quantity of material determined by the advent of abstraction in pupil Relation of stimuli to the age of the pupil Material of development is necessary only as a starting point. Corresponds to the terra firma from which the aeroplane takes flight and to which it returns to rest Establishing of internal order, or "discipline" Psychical growth requires constantly new and more complex material Difference between materials of auto-education and the didactic material of the schools Psychical truths. "Discipline" the first external sign of a psychical reaction to the material Initial disorder in Montessori schools Psychical progress not systematic but "explosive in nature" Birth of individuality Intellectual crises are accompanied by emotion Older child beginning in system, chooses materials in inverse order Course of psychical phenomena explained by diagrams Tests of Binet and Simon arbitrary and superficial Problems of psychical measurement Observing the child's moral nature Transformation of a "violent" child and of a "spying" child in a Montessori school Polarization of the internal personality Guide to psychological observation. Work Conduct Obedience CHAPTER IV THE PREPARATION OF THE TEACHER The school is the laboratory of experimental psychology Qualities the new type of teacher must possess CHAPTER V ENVIRONMENT Physical hygiene in the school The requirements of psychical hygiene Free movement. Misconceptions of physical freedom Action without an aim fatigues Work of "preservation" rather than "production" suitable to children CHAPTER VI ATTENTION Awakens in answer to an impulse of "spiritual hunger" Attention cannot be artificially maintained by teacher _Liberty_ the experimental condition necessary for studying phenomena of attention Child's perception of an internal development makes the exercise pleasant and induces him to prolong it External stimuli powerless without an answering internal force A natural internal force directs psychical formation New pedagogy provides nourishment for internal needs Organization of knowledge in the child's mind Teacher directs, but does not interrupt phenomena of attention Material offered should correspond to psychical needs CHAPTER VII WILL Its relation to attention Manifested in action and inhibition Opposite activities of the will must combine to form the personality Powers of the will established by exercise, not by subjection Persistence in effort the true foundation of will Decision the highest function of the will Development of will depends on order and clarity of ideas Power of choice, which precedes decision, should be strengthened Need of exercise for the will paralleled with need of muscular exercise Fallacy of educating the child's will by "breaking it" "Character" the result of established will, not of emulation CHAPTER VIII INTELLIGENCE Liberating the child means leaving him to "his own intelligence" How the intelligence of the child differs from the instincts of animals Intelligence the actual means of formation of the inner life Hygiene of intelligence Intelligence awakens and sets in motion the central nervous mechanisms In an age of speed, man has not accelerated himself Swift reactions an external manifestation of intelligence Ability to _distinguish_ and _arrange_ the characteristic sign of intelligence Montessori "sensory exercises" make it possible for the child to distinguish and classify The Montessori child is sensitive to the objects of his environment Educational methods in use do not help the child to distinguish Power of _association_ depends on ability to distinguish dominant characteristics Individuality revealed in association by similarity By means of attention and internal will the intelligence accomplishes the work of association _Judgment_ and _reasoning_ depend on ability to distinguish Activities of association and selection lead to individual habits of thought Importance of acquiring ability to reason for oneself Genius the possession of maximum powers of association by similarity Genius of errors in association and reasoning which have impeded science The consciousness can only accept truths for which it is "expectant" The intelligence has its peculiar perils, from which it should be guarded CHAPTER IX IMAGINATION The creative imagination of science is based upon truth. Imagination based on reality differs from that based on speculation Speculative imagination akin to original sin Education should direct imagination into creative channels Truth is also the basis of artistic imagination. All imagination based on sense impressions Non-seasonal impressions--spiritual truths Education in sense perception strengthens imagination Perfection in art dependent on approximation to truth Exercise of the intelligence aids imagination Imagination in children. Immature and therefore concerned with unrealities Should be helped to overcome immaturity of thought False methods develop _credulity_, akin to insanity Period of credulity in the child prolonged for the amusement of the adult "Living among real possessions" the cure for illusions Fable and religion. Religion not the product of fantasy Fable in schools does not prepare for religious teaching The education of the imagination in schools for older children. Environment and method oppressive "Composition" introduced to foster imagination How composition is "taught" Imagination cannot be forced The moral question. Contributions of positive science to morality Science raises society to level of Christian standards Parents' failure to teach sex morality Probable effects of experimental psychology in field of morals Experimental psychology should be directed to the schools Progress of medicine and its relation to new psychology Childish naughtiness a parental misconception Infant life different from the adult Hindering the child's development a moral question for the adult Need of the child "to touch and to act" How the adult prevents him from learning by doing Conceptions of good and bad conduct in the school Mutual aid a high crime in the school Surveillance for vicious habits originating in the school Developing the "social sentiment" in the school "A moral with every lesson" the teacher's aim Injurious system of prizes and punishments the school's mainstay The fallacy of "emulation" Necessity of reforming the school Good conduct dependent on satisfaction of intellectual needs Mere sensory education inadequate Love, the preservative force of life Christianity teaches necessity of mutual love The education of the moral sense. Moral education must have basis of feeling Adult the stimulus by which child's feeling is exercised How and when the adult should offer affection The essence of moral education. Importance of perfecting spiritual sensibility Necessity of properly organized environment Helping the child distinguish between right and wrong "Internal sense" of right and wrong Moral conscience capable of development Our insensibility. Virtuous person and criminal not detected by contact The War as an example of moral insensibility Insensibility distinguished from death of the soul Spiritually, man must either ascend or die Morality and religion. Conversion, the sudden establishing of moral order The spirit enslaved by sentiments hostile to love The religious sentiment in children. Crises of conscience and spontaneous religious feeling Some original observations by Dr. Montessori * * * * * SPONTANEOUS ACTIVITYIN EDUCATION I A SURVEY OF THE CHILD'S LIFE =The general laws which govern the child's psychical health have theirparallel in those of its physical health=. --Many persons who have askedme to continue my methods of education for very young children onlines that would make them suitable for those over seven years of age, have expressed a doubt whether this would be possible. The difficulties they put forward are mainly of a moral order. Should not the child now begin to respect the will of others ratherthan his own? Should he not some day brace himself to a real effort, compelling him to carry out a necessary, rather than a chosen, task?Finally, should he not learn self-sacrifice, since man's life is not alife of ease and enjoyment? Some, taking certain practical items of elementary education, whichpresent themselves even at the age of six, and must be seriouslyenvisaged at seven, urge their objection in this form: Now we are faceto face with the ugly specter of arithmetical tables, the arid mentalgymnastics exacted by grammar. What do you propose? Would you abolishall this, or do you admit that the child must inevitably bow to thesenecessities? It is obvious that the whole of the argument revolves round theinterpretation of that "liberty" which is the avowed basis of thesystem of education advocated by me. Perhaps in a short time all these objections will provoke a smile, andI shall be asked to suppress them, together with my commentary onthem, in future editions of this work. But at the present time theyhave a right to exist, and to be dealt with, although indeed it is notvery easy to give a direct, clear and convincing answer to them, because this entails the raising of questions on which everybody hasfirmly rooted convictions. A parallel may perhaps serve to save us a good deal of the work. Indirectly, these questions have been answered already by the progressmade in the treatment of infants under the guidance of hygiene. Howwere they treated formerly? Many, no doubt, can still remember certainpractises that were regarded as indispensable by the masses. An infanthad to be strapped and swaddled, or its legs would grow crooked; theligament under its tongue had to be slit, to ensure its speakingeventually; it was important that it should always wear a cap to keepits ears from protruding; the position of a recumbent baby was soarranged as not to cause permanent deformity of the tender skull; andgood mothers stroked and pinched the little noses of their nurslingsto make them grow long and sharp instead of round and snub, and putlittle gold earrings through the lobes of their ears very soon afterbirth "to improve their eyesight. " Such practises may be alreadyforgotten in some countries; but in others they obtain to this day. Who does not remember the various devices for helping a baby to walk?Even in the first months after birth, at a period of life when thenervous system is not completely developed, and it is impossible forthe infant to coordinate its movements, mothers wasted severalhalf-hours of the day "teaching baby to walk. " Holding the littlecreature by the body, they watched the aimless movements of the tinyfeet, and deluded themselves with the belief that the child wasalready making an effort to walk; and because it does actually bydegrees begin to arch its feet and move its legs more boldly, themother attributed its progress to her instruction. When finally themovement had been almost established--though not the equilibrium, andthe resulting power to stand on the feet--mothers made use of certainstraps with which they held up the baby's body, and thus made it walkon the ground with themselves; or, when they had no time to spare, they put the baby into a kind of bell-shaped basket, the broad base ofwhich prevented it from turning over; they tied the infant into this, hanging its arms outside, its body being supported by the upper edgeof the basket; thus the child, though it could not rise on its feet, _advanced_, moving its legs, and was said to be _walking_. Other relics of a very recent past are a species of convex crownswhich were put round the heads of babies when they were consideredcapable of rising to their feet, and were accordingly emancipated fromthe basket. The child, suddenly left to himself after being accustomedhitherto to supports comparable to the crutches of the cripple, fellperpetually, and the crown was a protection to the head, which wouldotherwise have been injured. What were the revelations of Science, when it entered upon the scenefor the salvation of the child? It certainly offered no perfectedmethods for straightening the noses and the ears, nor did it enlightenmothers as to methods of teaching babies to walk immediately afterbirth. No. It proclaimed first of all that Nature itself willdetermine the shape of heads, noses, and ears; that man will speakwithout having the membrane of the tongue cut; and further, that legswill grow straight and that the function of walking will comenaturally, and requires no intervention. Hence it follows that we should leave as much as possible to Nature;and the more the babe is left free to develop, the more rapidly andperfectly will he achieve his proper proportions and higher functions. Thus swaddling bands are abolished, and the "utmost tranquillity in arestful position" is recommended. The infant, with its legs perfectlyfree, will be left lying full length, and not jogged up and down to"amuse" it, as many persons imagine they are doing by this device. Itwill not be forced to walk before it is time. When this time comes, itwill raise itself and walk spontaneously. In these days nearly all mothers are convinced of this, and vendors ofswaddling-bands, straps, and baskets have practically disappeared. As a result, babies have straighter legs and walk better and earlierthan formerly. This is an established fact, and a most comforting one; for what aconstant anxiety it must have been to believe that the straightness ofa child's legs, and the shape of its nose, ears, and head were thedirect results of our care! What a responsibility, to which every onemust have felt unequal! And what a relief to say: "Nature will thinkof that. I will leave my baby free, and watch him grow in beauty; Iwill be a quiescent spectator of the miracle. " Something analogous has been happening with regard to the inner lifeof the child. We are beset by such anxieties as these: it is necessaryto form character, to develop the intelligence, to aid the unfoldingand ordering of the emotions. And we ask ourselves how we are to dothis. Here and there we touch the soul of the child, or we constrainit by special restrictions, much as mothers used to press the noses oftheir babies or strap down their ears. And we conceal our anxietybeneath a certain mediocre success, for it is a fact that men do growup possessing character, intelligence and feeling. But when all thesethings are lacking, we are vanquished. What are we to do then? Whowill give character to a degenerate, intelligence to an idiot, humanemotions to a moral maniac? If it were really true that men acquired all such qualities by thesefitful manipulations of their souls, it would suffice to apply alittle more energy to the process when these souls are evidentlyfeeble. But this is not sufficient. Then we are no more the creators of spiritual than of physical forms. It is Nature, "creation, " which regulates all these things. If we areconvinced of this, we must admit as a principle the necessity of "notintroducing obstacles to natural development"; and instead of havingto deal with many separate problems--such as, what are the best aidsto the development of character, intelligence and feeling?--one singleproblem will present itself as the basis of all education: How are weto give the child freedom? In according this freedom we must take account of principles analogousto those laid down by science for the forms and functions of the bodyduring its period of growth; it is a freedom in which the head, thenose, and the ears will attain the highest beauty, and the gait theutmost perfection possible to the congenital powers of theindividual. Thus here again liberty, the sole means, will lead to themaximum development of character, intelligence and sentiment; and willgive to us, the educators, peace, and the possibility of contemplatingthe miracle of growth. This liberty will further deliver us from the painful weight of afictitious responsibility and a dangerous illusion. Woe to us, when we believe ourselves responsible for matters that donot concern us, and delude ourselves with the idea that we areperfecting things that will perfect themselves quite independently ofus! For then we are like lunatics; and the profound question arises:What, then, is our true mission, our true responsibility? If we aredeceiving ourselves, what is indeed the truth? And what sins ofomission and of commission must be laid to our charge? If, likeChanticleer, we believe that the sun rises in the morning because thecock has crowed, what duties shall we find when we come to our senses?Who has been left destitute, because we ourselves have forgotten "toeat our true bread"? The history of the "physical redemption" of the infant has a sequelfor us which is highly instructive. Hygiene has not been confined to the task of anthropologicaldemonstration, such as that which not only made generally known, butconvinced every one, that the body develops spontaneously; because, inreality, the question of infant welfare was not concerned with themore or less perfect forms of the body. The real infantile questionwhich called for the intervention of science was the alarmingmortality among infants. It certainly seems strange in these days to consider this fact: that, at the period when infantile diseases made the greatest ravages, people were not nearly so much concerned with infantile mortality aswith the shape of the nose or the straightness of the legs, while thereal question--literally a question of life and death--passedunobserved. There must be many persons who, like myself, have heardsuch dialogues as this: "I have had great experience in the care ofchildren; I have had nine. " "And how many of them are living?" "Two. "And nevertheless this mother was looked upon as an authority! Statistics of mortality reveal figures so high that the phenomenon mayjustly be called the "Slaughter of the Innocents. " The famous graph ofLexis, which is not confined to one country or another, but deals withthe general averages of human mortality, reveals the fact that thisterrible death-rate is of universal occurrence among all peoples. Thismust be attributed to two different factors. One is undoubtedly thecharacteristic feebleness of infancy; the other the absence ofprotection for this feebleness, an absence that had become generalamong all peoples. Good-will was not lacking, nor parental affection;the fault lay hidden in an unknown cause, in a lack of protectionagainst a dire peril of which men were quite unconscious. It is now amatter of common knowledge that infectious diseases, especially thoseof intestinal origin, are those most destructive to infant life. Intestinal disorders which impede nutrition, and produce toxins at anage when the delicate tissues are most sensitive to them, wereresponsible for nearly the entire death-roll. These were aggravated bythe errors habitually committed by those in charge of infants. Theseerrors were a lack of cleanliness which would astound us nowadays, anda complete absence of any sort of rule concerning infant diet. Thesoiled napkins which were wrapped round the baby under its swaddlingbands would be dried in the sun again and again, and replaced on theinfant without being washed. No care was taken to wash the mother'sbreast or the baby's mouth, in spite of fermentation so pronounced asto cause local disorder. Suckling of infants was carried out quiteirregularly; the cries of the child were the sole guide whereby itsfeeding times, whether by night or day, were determined; and the moreit suffered from indigestion and the resulting pains, the morefrequently was it fed, to the constant aggravation of its sufferings. Who in those days might not have seen mothers carrying in their armsbabies flushed with fever, perpetually thrusting the nipple into thelittle howling mouth in the hope of quieting it? And yet those motherswere full of self-sacrifice and of maternal anguish! Science laid down simple rules; it enjoined the utmost possiblecleanliness, and formulated a principle so self-evident that it seemsastounding people should not have recognized it for themselves: thatthe smallest infant, like ourselves, should have regular meals, andshould only take fresh nourishment when it has digested what has beengiven before; and hence that it should be suckled only at intervals ofso many hours, according to the months of its age and themodifications of physical function in its development. No infantshould ever be given crusts of bread to suck, as is often done bymothers, especially among the lower orders, to still its crying, because particles of bread might be swallowed, which the child is yetincapable of digesting. The mothers' anxiety then was: what are we to do when the baby cries?They found to their astonishment after a time that their babies crieda great deal less, or indeed not at all; they even saw infants only aweek old spending the two hours' intervals between successive mealscalm and rosy, with wide-open eyes, so silent that they gave no signof life, like Nature in her moments of solemn immobility. Why indeedshould they cry continually? Those cries were the sign of a state ofthings which must be translated by these words: suffering and death. And for these wailing little ones the world did nothing. They werestrapped up in swaddling clothes, and very often handed over to ayoung child incapable of responsibility; they had neither a room nor abed of their own. It was Science which came to the rescue and created nurseries, cradles, rooms for babies, suitable clothes for them, alimentarysubstances specially prepared for them by great industries devoted tothe hygienic sustenance of infants after weaning, and medicalspecialists for their ailments; in short, an entirely new world, clean, intelligent, and full of amenity. The baby has become the newman who has conquered his own right to live, and thus has caused asphere to be created for him. And in direct proportion to thediffusion of the laws of infantile hygiene, infant mortality hasdecreased. So then, when we say that in like manner the baby should be left atliberty spiritually, because creative Nature can also fashion itsspirit better than we can, we do not mean that it should be neglectedand abandoned. Perhaps, looking around us, we shall perceive that though we cannotdirectly mold its individual forms of character, intelligence, andfeeling, there is nevertheless a whole category of duties andsolicitudes which we have neglected: and that on these _the life ordeath_ of the spirit depends. The principle of _liberty_ is not therefore a principle of_abandonment_, but rather one which, by leading us from illusions toreality, will guide us to the most positive and efficacious "care ofthe child. " * * * * * =The liberty accorded to the child of to-day is purely physical. Civilrights of the child in the twentieth century=. --Hygiene has broughtliberty into the physical life of the infant. Such material facts asthe abolition of swaddling bands, open-air life, the prolongation ofsleep till the infant wakes of its own accord, etc. , are the mostevident and tangible proof of this. But these are merely means for theattainment of liberty. A far more important measure of liberation hasbeen the removal of the perils of disease and death which beset thechild at the outset of life's journey. Not only did infants survive invery much greater numbers as soon as the obstacles of certainfundamental errors were swept away, but it was at once apparent thatthere was an improvement in their development. Was it really hygienewhich helped them to increase in weight, stature, and beauty, andimproved their material development? Hygiene did not accomplish quiteall this. Who, as the Gospel says, can by taking thought add one cubitto his stature? Hygiene merely delivered the child from the obstaclesthat impeded its growth. External restraints checked materialdevelopment and all the natural evolution of life; hygiene burst thesebonds. And every one felt that a liberation had been effected; everyone repeated in view of the accomplished fact: children should befree. The direct correspondence between "conditions of physical lifefulfilled" and "liberty acquired" is now universally and intuitivelyrecognized. Thus the infant is treated like a young plant. Childrento-day enjoy the rights which from time immemorial have been accordedto the vegetables of a well-kept garden. Good food, oxygen, suitabletemperature, the careful elimination of parasites that producedisease; yes, henceforth we may say that the son of a prince will betended with as much care as the finest rose-tree of a villa. The old comparison of a child to a flower is the reality to which wenow aspire; though even this is a privilege reserved for the morefortunate children. But let us beware of so grave an error. The babeis a man. That which suffices for a plant cannot be sufficient forhim. Consider the depth of misery into which a paralyzed man has sunkwhen we say of him: "He merely vegetates; as a man, he is dead, " andlament that there is nothing but his body left. The infant as a _man_--such is the figure we ought to keep in view. Wemust behold him amidst our tumultuous human society and see how withheroic vigor he aspires to life. What are the rights of children? Let us consider them for a moment asa social class, as a class of workers, for as a fact they are laboringto produce men. They are the future generation. They work, undergoingthe fatigues of physical and spiritual growth. They continue the workcarried on for a few months by their mothers, but their task is a morelaborious, complex, and difficult one. When they are born they possessnothing but potentialities; they have to do everything in a worldwhich, as even adults admit, is full of difficulties. What is done tohelp these frail pilgrims in an unknown world? They are born morefragile and helpless than an animal, and in a few years they have tobecome men, to be units in a highly complicated organized society, built up by the secular effort of innumerable generations. At aperiod in which civilization, that is, the possibility of rightliving, is based upon rights energetically acquired and consecrated bylaws, what rights has he who comes among us without strength andwithout thought? Like the infant Moses lying in the ark of bulrusheson the waters of the Nile he represents the future of the chosenpeople; but will some princess passing by perchance see him? To chance, to luck, to affection, to all these we entrust the child;and it would seem that the Biblical chastisement of the Egyptianoppressor, the death of the first-born, is to be unceasingly renewed. Let us see how social justice receives the infant when he enters theworld. We are living in the twentieth century; in many of theso-called civilized nations orphan asylums and wet nurses are stillrecognized _institutions_. What is an orphan asylum? It is a place ofsequestration, a dark and terrible prison, where only too often theprisoner finds death, as in those medieval dungeons whence the victimdisappeared, leaving no trace. He never sees any who are dear to him. His family name is cancelled, his goods are confiscated. The greatestcriminal may retain memories of his mother, knows that he has had aname, and may derive some consolation from his recollections, comparable to the soothing reflections of one who having become blindrecalls the beauty of colors and the splendor of the sun; but thefoundling is as one born blind. Every malefactor has more rights thanhe; and yet who could be more innocent? Even in the days of the mostodious tyranny, the spectacle of oppressed innocence kindled a flameof justice that sooner or later blazed up into revolution. Thepersons imprisoned by tyrants because they had happened to bewitnesses of their crimes, and who were cast into dungeons wheredarkness and inaudible suffering were henceforth their unhappyportion, at least roused the people to proclaim the principle of equaljustice for all. But who will lift up his voice for our foundlings?Society does not perceive that they too are men; they are indeed onlythe "flowers" of humanity. And to save honor and good name, whatsociety would not with one accord sacrifice more "flowers"? The wet nurse is a social custom. A luxurious custom, on the one hand. Not very long ago, a girl of the middle-and not even the uppermiddle-class, who was about to marry, boasted in the following termsof the domestic comfort promised her by her future husband: "I am tohave a cook, a housemaid, and a wet nurse. " On the other hand, therobust peasant girl who has given birth to a son, looking complacentlyat her heavy breasts, thinks: "I shall be able to get a good place aswet nurse. " It is only quite recently that hygiene has cried shameupon those mothers whose laziness makes them refuse to suckle theirown children; in our times queens and empresses who suckle theirchildren are still cited admiringly as examples to other mothers. The_maternal duty_ of suckling her own children prescribed to mothers byhygienists is based on a physiological principle: the mother's milknourishes an infant more perfectly than any other. In spite of thisclear indication, the duty is far from being universally accepted. Often in our walks we still see a robust mother accompanied by a wetnurse gorgeously attired in red or blue, with gold and silverembroideries, carrying a baby. Wealthy mothers have untidily dressedwet nurses who do not go out with them, who always follow the modernnurse, an expert in infantile hygiene, who keeps the baby "like aflower. " And what of the other child?... For every infant who has a doublesupply of human milk at his disposal, there is another child who hasnone. The wealth in question is not an industrial product. It isapportioned by Nature with careful precision. For each new life, theration of milk. Milk cannot be produced by any means other than theproduction of life. Cow-keepers know this well; their good cows arehygienically reared, and calves are sent to the butcher. Yet whatdistress is felt whenever the young of some animal is parted from itsmother! Is it not so in the case of puppies and kittens? When a petdog has given birth to a litter so numerous that she cannot sucklethem all, and it is necessary to destroy some of the puppies, whatsincere grief is felt by the mistress of the house, whose own baby isbeing suckled by a magnificent wet nurse! Well--the thing whichexcites her compassion above all is the eager, whimpering mother, whodoes not understand whether she has or has not the strength to suckleall the shapeless puppies she has borne, but who cannot lose one ofthem without despair. The wet nurse is quite another affair; she cameof her own accord to offer her milk for sale. What the other--her ownchild--was to do, no one cared. Only a clearly defined _right_, a _law_, could have protected him, forsociety is based on rights. These, it is true, are the rights ofproperty, which are absolute; steal a loaf, even if you are starving, and you are a thief. You will be punished by the law and outlawed bysociety. The rights of property constitute one of the most formidableof the social bases. An administrator of landed estate who shouldsell the property belonging to his master, make money out of it forhis own enjoyment, and leave the rightful owner in the direst poverty, is a criminal difficult to imagine. For who would buy a propertywithout the signature of the owner? Society is so constituted thatcertain crimes would not only be punished if committed, but are almostimpossible to commit. Yet in the case of young infants, this crime iscommitted every day, and is not regarded as a crime, but as a luxury. What can be a more sacred right than that of the baby to his mother'smilk? He might say of this in the words of the Emperor Napoleon: "Godhas given it to me. " There can be no doubt whatever as to thelegitimacy of his claim; his sole capital, milk, came into the worldwith and for him. All his wealth is there: strength to live, to grow, to acquire vigor are contained in that nourishment. If the defraudedinfant should become weak and rickety, what would become of him, condemned by poverty to a hard calling? What a claim for damages, whata question of accident during work with permanent injury resultingtherefrom might be raised if some day the infant could present himselfafter the manner of a man before the tribunal of social justice! In civilized countries rich mothers have been induced to suckle theirchildren because hygienists have proved that this is beneficial to thebaby's health, but not because it has been recognized that the "civilright" of the adult extends to the infant. These mothers considercountries where the wet nurse is still an institution as less _highlydeveloped_, but on the same plane of civilization as their own. It may be asked: what if the mother is ill and _unable_ to suckle herchild? In such a case the child of the sick woman is the unfortunateone. Why should another have to suffer for his misfortune? Howeverpoverty-stricken individuals may be, we do not allow them to take fromothers the wealth that is so urgently needed by them. If in these daysan Emperor could be cured of terrible sufferings by immersion in abath of human blood, he could not bleed healthy men for the purpose asa barbarian Emperor would have done. These are the things that make upour civilization. This it is which differentiates us from pirates andcannibals. The rights of the adult are recognized. But not the rights of the infant. [1] What an implication of basenessthe fact carries with it: we recognize the rights of adults indeed, but not those of the child! We recognize justice, but only for thosewho can protest and defend themselves; and for the rest, we remainbarbarians. Because to-day there may be peoples more or less highlydeveloped from the hygienic point of view, but they all belong to thesame civilization--a civilization based on the _right of thestrongest_. When we begin seriously to examine the problem of the moral educationof the child, we ought to look around us a little, and survey theworld we have prepared for him. Are we willing that he should becomelike us, unscrupulous in our dealings with the weak? that like us, hisconsciousness should harbor ideas of a justice which stops short atthose who make no protests? Are we willing to make him like ourselveshalf a civilized man in our dealings with our equals, and half a wildbeast when we encounter the innocent and oppressed? [Footnote 1: Of course, should the child of the wet nurse have died, there can be no question of an infringement of its rights. But suchcases have no relation to those in which the rich mother requires anurse for the child she is unable to suckle herself, owing topathological reasons. I may draw attention to a precautionary measure which has become a lawin Germany: this prohibits the acceptance of a post as wet nurse by amother until six months after the birth of her own child. Thisinterval is considered sufficiently long to guarantee the health ofthe infant. Moreover, the special care devoted to artificial feedingin Germany provides a satisfactory substitute for wet nursing, in thecase of children who are deprived of maternal nourishment. Such lawsand provisions are a first step towards the recognition of the "civilrights" of poor infants. ] If not, then before we offer moral education to the child, let usimitate the priest who is about to ascend to the altar: he bows hishead in penitence and confesses his own sins before the wholecongregation. This outlawed child is like a dislocated arm. Humanity cannot work atthe evolution of its morality until this arm has been put into itsplace; and this will also end the pains and the paralysis of theinjured muscles attached to it: women. The social question of thechild is obviously the more complete and profound; it is the questionof our present and of our future. If we can reconcile to our conscience deeds of such grave injustice, not to say crimes, without recognizing them as such, what minor formsof oppression shall we not readily condone in our dealings with thechild? * * * * * =How we receive the infants that come into the world=. --Let us lookaround. Only of late has any preparation been made to receive thissublime guest. It is not very long ago that little beds for childrenwere first made; among all the innumerable tasteless, superfluous, andextravagant objects of commerce, let us see what things are intendedfor the child. No washstands, no sofas, no tables, no brushes. Amongall the many houses, there is not one house for him and his like, andonly rich and fortunate children have even a room of their own, moreor less a place of exile. Let us imagine ourselves subjected for even a single day to themiseries to which he is condemned. Suppose that we should find ourselves among a race of giants, withlegs immensely long and bodies enormously large in comparison withours, and also with powers of rapid movement infinitely greater thanours, people extraordinarily agile and intelligent compared withourselves. We should want to go into their houses; the steps would beeach as high as our knees, and yet we should have to try to mount themwith their owners; we should want to sit down, but the seats would bealmost as high as our shoulders; clambering painfully upon them, weshould at last succeed in perching upon them. We should want to brushour clothes, but all the clothes-brushes would be so huge that wecould not lay hold of them nor sustain their weight; and aclothes-brush would be handed to us if we wanted to brush our nails. We should perhaps be glad to take a bath in one of the washstandbasins; but the weight of these would make it impossible for us tolift them. If we knew that these giants had been expecting us, weshould be obliged to say: they have made no preparations for receivingus, or for making our lives among them agreeable. The baby finds allthat he himself needs in the form of playthings made for dolls; rich, varied and attractive surroundings have not been created for him, butdolls have houses, sitting-rooms, kitchens and wardrobes; for them allthat the adult possesses is reproduced in miniature. Among all thesethings, however, the child cannot live; he can only amuse himself. Theworld has been given to him in jest, because no one has yet recognizedhim as a living man. He discovers that society has prepared a mockeryfor his reception. That children break their toys is so well known that this act ofdestruction of the only things specially manufactured for them istaken to be a proof of their intelligence. We say: "He destroys itbecause he wishes to understand [how things are made];" in reality heis looking to see if there is anything interesting _inside_ the toys, because externally they have no interest whatever for him; sometimeshe breaks them up violently, like an angry man. Then, according to us, he is destroying out of naughtiness. It is the tendency of the child actually to live by means of thethings around him; he would like to use a washstand of his own, todress himself, really to comb the hair on a living head, to sweep thefloor himself; he too would like to have seats, tables, sofas, clothes-pegs, and cupboards. What he desires is to work himself, toaim at some intelligent object, to have comfort in his own life. Hehas not only to "behave like a man, " but to "construct a man;" such isthe dominant tendency of his nature, of his mission. We have seen him in the _Case dei Bambini_ happy and patient, slow andprecise like the most admirable workman, and the most scrupulous_conservator_ of things. The smallest trifles suffice to make himhappy; it delights him to hang up his clothes on pegs fixed low downon the walls, within reach of his hands; to open a light door, thehandle of which is proportioned to the size of his hand; to place achair, the weight of which is not too great for his arms, quietly andgracefully. We offer a very simple suggestion: give the child anenvironment in which everything is constructed in proportion tohimself, and let him live therein. Then there will develop within thechild that "active life" which has caused so many to marvel, becausethey see in it not only a simple exercise performed with pleasure, butthe revelation of a spiritual life. In such harmonious surroundingsthe young child is seen laying hold of the intellectual life like aseed which has thrown out a root into the soil, and then growing anddeveloping by one sole means: long practice in each exercise. When we see little children acting thus, intent on their work, slow inexecuting it, because of the immaturity of their structure, just asthey walk slowly because their legs are still short, we feelintuitively that life is being elaborated within them, as a chrysalisslowly elaborates the butterfly within the cocoon. To impede theiractivity would be to do violence to their lives. But what is the usualmethod with young children? We all interrupt them without compunctionor consideration, in the manner of masters to slaves who have no humanrights. To show "consideration" to young children as to adults wouldeven seem ridiculous to many persons. And yet with what severity do weenjoin children "not to interrupt" us! If the little one is doingsomething, eating by himself, for instance, some adult comes and feedshim; if he is trying to fasten an overall, some adult hastens to dresshim; every one substitutes an alien action to his, brutally, withoutthe smallest consideration. And yet we ourselves are very sensitive asto our rights in our own work; it offends us if any one attempts tosupplant us; in the Bible the sentence, "And his place shall anothertake" is among the threats to the lost. What should we do if we were to become the slaves of a peopleincapable of understanding our feelings, a gigantic people, very muchstronger than ourselves? When we were quietly eating our soup, enjoying it at our leisure (and we know that enjoyment depends uponbeing at liberty), suppose a giant appeared and snatching the spoonfrom our hand, made us swallow it in such haste that we were almostchoked. Our protest: "For mercy's sake, slowly, " would be accompaniedby an oppression of the heart; our digestion would suffer. If again, thinking of something pleasant, we should be slowly putting on anovercoat with all the sense of well-being and liberty we enjoy in ourown houses, and some giant should suddenly throw it upon us, andhaving dressed us, should in the twinkling of an eye, carry us out tosome distance from the door, we should feel our dignity so wounded, that all the expected pleasure of the walk would be lost. Ournutrition does not depend solely on the soup we have swallowed, norour well-being upon the physical exercise of walking, but also uponthe liberty with which we do these things. We should feel offended andrebellious, not at all out of hatred of these giants, but merely fromour recognition of the innate tendency to free functions in all thatpertains to life. It is something within us which man does notrecognize, which God alone knows, a something which manifests itselfimperceptibly to us to the end that we may complete it. It is thislove of freedom which nourishes and gives well-being to our life, evenin its most minute acts. Of this it was said: "Man does not live bybread alone. " How much greater this need must be in young children, inwhom creation is still in action! With strife and rebellion they have to defend their own littleconquests of their environment. When they want to exercise theirsenses, such as that of touch, for instance, every one condemns them:"Do not touch!" If they attempt to take something from the kitchen, some scraps to make a little dish, they are driven away, andmercilessly sent back to their toys. How often one of those marvelousmoments when their attention is fixed, and that process oforganization which is to develop them begins in their souls, isroughly interrupted; moments when the spontaneous efforts of the youngchild are groping blindly in its surroundings after sustenance for itsintelligence. Do we not all retain an impression of something havingbeen forever stifled in our lives? Without being able to give any definite reason, we feel that somethingprecious was lost on our life-journey, that we were defrauded anddepreciated. Perhaps at the very moments when we were about to createourselves, we were interrupted and persecuted, and our spiritualorganism was left rickety, weak, and inadequate. Let us imagine to ourselves certain adults, not mature and stable likethe majority of grown men, but in a state of spiritual auto-creation, as are men of genius. Let us take the case of a writer under theinfluence of poetic inspiration, at the moment when his beneficent andinspiring work is about to take form for the help of other men. Orthat of the mathematician who perceives the solution of a greatproblem, from which will issue new principles beneficial to allhumanity. Or again, that of an artist, whose mind has just conceivedthe ideal image which it is necessary to fix upon the canvas lest amasterpiece be lost to the world. Imagine these men at suchpsychological moments, broken in upon by some brutal person shoutingto them to follow him at once, taking them by the hand, or pushingthem out by the shoulders. And for what? The chess-board is set outfor a game. Ah! such men would say, "You could not have done anythingmore atrocious! Our inspiration is lost; humanity will be deprived ofa poem, an artistic masterpiece, a useful discovery, by your folly. " But the child in like case does not lose some single production; heloses himself. For his masterpiece, which he is composing in therecesses of his creative genius, is the new man. The "caprices, " the"naughtinesses, " the "mysterious vapors" of little children areperhaps the occult cry of unhappiness uttered by the misunderstoodsoul. But it is not only the soul that suffers; the body suffers with it. For the influence exercised by the spirit on the entire physicalexistence is a characteristic of man. In an institution for deserted children, there was one extremely uglylittle creature, who had nevertheless greatly endeared himself to ayoung woman who had the care of him. This nurse one day told one ofthe patronesses that the child was growing very pretty. The lady wentto look at it, but found it very ugly, and thought to herself thatdaily habit soon accustoms us to the defects of others. Some timeafter this the nurse made the same remark as before, and the ladygood-naturedly paid another visit; impressed by the warmth with whichthe young woman spoke of the child, she was touched to think that lovehad made the speaker blind. Several months elapsed, and finally thenurse, with a triumphant air, declared that henceforth no mistakewould be possible, for the child had undoubtedly become "beautiful. "The lady, astounded, had to admit that this was true; the body of thechild had actually been transformed under the influence of a greataffection. When we delude ourselves with the idea that we are giving _everything_to children by giving them fresh air and food, we are not even givingthem this: air and food are not sufficient for the body of man; allthe physiological functions are subject to a higher welfare, whereinthe sole key of all life is to be found. The child's body lives alsoby joyousness of soul. Physiology itself teaches us these things. A frugal meal taken in theopen air will nourish the body far better than a sumptuous repast in aclose room, where the air is impure, because all the functions of thebody are more active in the open air, and assimilation is morecomplete. In like manner a frugal meal eaten in common with belovedand sympathetic persons is much more nutritious than the food ahumble, harassed secretary would partake at the lordly table of acapricious master. Liberty in this case is the cry that explains all. _Parva domus sed mea_ (a little house, but my own), has been quotedever since the Roman epoch to indicate which is the most healthful ofhouses. Where our lives are oppressed, there can be no health for us, even though we eat of princely banquets or in splendid buildings. * * * * * =With man the life of the body depends on the life of thespirit=. --Physiology gives an exhaustive explanation of the mechanismof such phenomena. Moral activities have such an exact correspondencewith the functions of the body that it is possible to appreciate bymeans of these the various emotional states of grief, anger, weariness, and pleasure. In _grief_, for instance, the action of theheart becomes feebler, as under a paralyzing influence; all theblood-vessels contract, and the blood circulates more slowly, theglands no longer secrete their juices normally, and these disturbancesmanifest themselves in a pallor of the face, an appearance ofweariness in the drooping body, a mouth parched from lack of saliva, indigestion caused by insufficiency of the gastric juice, and coldhands. If prolonged, grief results in mal-nutrition and consequentwasting, and predisposes the debilitated body to infectious diseases. _Weariness_ is like a rapid paralysis of the heart; it may inducefainting, as expressed in the popular phrase "dead tired"; but areflex action will nearly always restore the sufferer, like anautomatic safety-valve; thus a yawn, that is to say, a deep, spasmodicinspiration, which dilates the pulmonary alveoli, causes the blood toflow to the heart like a suction pump, and sets it in motion again. In_anger_ there is a kind of tetanic contraction of all the capillaries, causing extreme pallor, and the expulsion of an extra quantity of bilefrom the liver. _Pleasure_ causes dilatation of the blood-vessels; thecirculation, and consequently all the functions of secretion andassimilation are facilitated; the face is suffused with color, thegastric juice and the saliva are perceptible as that healthy appetiteand that watering of the mouth which invite us to supply freshnourishment to the body; all the tissues work actively to expel theirtoxins, and to assimilate fresh nourishment; the enlarged lungs storeup large quantities of oxygen, which burn up all refuse, leaving notrace of poisonous germs. It is an injection of health. In Italy, where after the abolition of the death penalty thepunishment of solitary confinement was substituted, we have a proofeven more eloquent of the influence of the spirit upon the functionsof the body. With our modern measures of hygiene in prisons, theprison cell cannot be called a place of torture for the body: it ismerely a place where all spiritual sustenance is withheld. It consistsof a cell with perfectly bare gray walls, opening only into a narrowstrip of ground enclosed by high walls, where the criminal may walkin the fresh air, because the open country is all around him, thoughit is hidden from his sight. What is lacking here for the body? It isprovided with food, and a shelter from the weather, it has a bed and aplace where it can take in fresh stores of pure oxygen; the body canrest, nay more, it can do nothing but rest. The conditions seem almostideal for any one who does not wish to do anything, and desires simplyto vegetate. But no sound from without, no human voice ever reachesthe ear of the being here incarcerated; he will never again see acolor or a form. No news from the outer world ever reaches him. Alonein dense spiritual darkness, he will spend the interminable hours, days, seasons, and years. Now, experience has shown that thesewretched persons cannot live. They go mad and die. Not only theirminds but their bodies perish after a few years. What causes death? Ifsuch a man were a plant, he would lack nothing, but he requires othernourishment. Emptiness of the soul is mortal even to the vilestcriminal, for this is a law of human nature. His flesh, his viscera, his bones perish when deprived of spiritual food, just as an oak-treewould perish without the nitrates of the earth and the oxygen of theair. This slow death substituted for violent death was, indeed, denounced as very great cruelty. To die of hunger in nine days likeCount Ugolino is a more cruel fate than to be burnt to death in halfan hour like Giordano Bruno; but to die of starvation of the spirit ina term of years is the most cruel of all the punishments hithertodevised for the castigation of man. If a robust and brutal criminal can perish from starvation of thesoul, what will be the fate of the infant if we take no account of hisspiritual needs? His body is fragile, his bones are in process ofgrowth, his muscles, overloaded with sugar, cannot yet elaborate theirpowers; they can only elaborate themselves; the delicate structure ofhis organism requires, it is true, nutriment and oxygen; but if itsfunctions are to be satisfactorily performed, it requires joy. It is ajoyous spirit which causes "the bones of man to exult. " II A SURVEY OF MODERN EDUCATION =The precepts which govern moral education and instruction=. --Althoughthe adult relegates the child to an existence among toys, andinexorably denies him those exercises which would promote his internaldevelopment, he claims that the child should imitate him in the moralsphere. The adult says to the child: "Do as I do. " The child is tobecome a man, not by training and development, but by imitation. It isas if a father were to say in the morning to his little one: "Look atme, see how tall I am; when I return this evening, I shall expect youto have grown a foot. " Education is greatly simplified by this method. If a tale of someheroic deed is read to the child, and he is told to "become a hero";if some moral action is narrated and is concluded with therecommendation, "be thou virtuous"; if some instance of remarkablecharacter is noted together with the exhortation, "you too mustacquire a strong character, " the child has been put in the way ofbecoming a great man! If children show themselves discontented and restless, they are toldthat they want for nothing, that they are fortunate to have a fatherand a mother, and to conclude, they are exhorted thus: "Children, behappy--a child should always be joyous"; and behold! the mysteriousyearnings of the child are supposed to be satisfied! Adults are quite content when they have acted thus. They straightenout the character and the morals of their children as they formerlystraightened their legs by bandaging them. True, rebellious children occasionally demonstrate the futility ofsuch teachings. In these cases a good instructor chooses appropriatestories showing the baseness of such ingratitude, the dangers ofdisobedience, the ugliness of bad temper, to accentuate the defects ofthe pupil. It would be just as edifying to discourse to a blind man onthe dangers of blindness, and to a cripple on the difficulties ofwalking. The same thing happens in material matters; a music-mastersays to a beginner: "Hold your fingers properly; if you do not, youwill never be able to play. " A mother will say to a son condemned tosit bent double all day on school benches, and obliged by the usagesof society to study continually: "Hold yourself gracefully, do not beso awkward in company, you make me feel ashamed of you. " If the child were one day to exclaim: "But it is you who prevent mefrom developing will and character; when I seem naughty, it is becauseI am trying to save myself; how can I help being awkward when I amsacrificed?" To many this would be a revelation; to many others merelya "want of respect. " There is a method by which the child may be brought to achieve theresults which the adult has laid down as desirable; it is a verysimple method. The child must be made to do whatever the adult wishes;the adult will then be able to lead him to the heights of goodness, self-sacrifice and strength, and the moral child will be created. Todominate the child, to bring him into subjection, to make himobedient--this is the basis of education. If this can be done by anymeans whatever, even by violence, all the rest will follow; andremember, it is all for the good of the child. The child could not bemolded by any other means. It is the first and principal step in whatis called "educating the will of the child, " one which will henceforthenable the adult to speak of himself as Virgil speaks of God. After this first step the adult will examine himself to see what arethe things he finds most difficult, and these he will exact from thechild _in time_, that the child may accustom himself to the necessarydifficulties of man's life. But very often the adult also imposesconditions which he himself _has not the fortitude to accept_ evenpartially ... As, for instance, the task of listening motionless forthree or four hours every day, during a course of years, to a dull, wearisome lecturer. * * * * * =It is the teacher who forms the child's mind. How he teaches=. --Thesame conception governs the school: it is the teacher who must formthe pupil; the development of the child's intelligence and culture arein his hands. He has a truly formidable task and a tremendousresponsibility. The problems that present themselves to him areinnumerable and acute; they form as it were a hedge of thornsseparating him from his pupils. What must first of all be devised, towin the attention of his pupils, so that he may be able to introduceinto their minds all that seems to him necessary? How is he to offerthem an idea in such a manner that they will retain it in theirmemories? To this end, it is essential that he should have a knowledgeof psychology, the precise manner in which physical phenomena areproduced, the laws governing memory, the psychical mechanism by meansof which ideas are formed, the laws governing the association ofideas, by means of which very gradually ideas proceed to the mostsublime activities, impelling the child to reason. It is he who, knowing all these things, must build up and enrich the mind. And thisis no easy matter, because, in addition to this difficult work, thereis always the difficulty of difficulties, that of inducing the childto lend himself to all this endeavor, and to second the master, andnot show himself recalcitrant to the efforts made on his behalf. Forthis reason the _moral_ education is the point of departure; beforeall things, it is necessary to _discipline_ the class. The pupils mustbe induced to _second_ the master's efforts, if not by love, then byforce. Failing this point of departure, all education and instructionwould be _impossible_, and the school _useless_. Another difficulty is that of economizing the powers of the pupils, that is to say, utilizing them to the utmost without wasting them. Howmuch rest is necessary? How long should any particular work be carriedon? Perhaps ten minutes' rest may be necessary after the firstthree-quarters of an hour of occupation; but after anotherthree-quarters of an hour, a pause of fifteen minutes may be required, and so on throughout the day; finally, a quarter of an hour's rest maybe needed after ten minutes' occupation. But what instruction is bestadapted to the powers of a child during the various hours of the day?Is it best to begin with mathematics or with dictation? At what hourswill the child be most inclined to exercise his powers of imagination, at 9 in the morning or at 11? Other anxieties must assail a perfect teacher! How should he write onthe blackboard so that the children seated at a distance may see? forif they do not see his work is of no avail. And how much light shallfall upon the blackboard, in order that all may see clearly the whitecharacters on the black surface? Of what size should be the scriptspecially chosen by the master to suit distant vision? This is aserious matter, because if the child, obliged by discipline to lookand learn from a distance, should put too great a strain upon hispowers of visual accommodation, he may in time become short-sighted;then the teacher would have manufactured a blind person. A seriousmatter indeed! * * * * * What consideration has ever been given to the state of anxiety of sucha teacher? To get some idea of his anxiety we may think of a youngwife about to become a mother, who should set herself such problems asthe following: how can I create an infant, if I know nothing ofanatomy; how can I form its skeleton? I must study the structure ofthe bones carefully. I must then learn how the muscles are attached;but how will it be possible to put the brain into a closed box? Andmust the little heart go on beating continually until death? Is itpossible that it will not weary? In like fashion, she might ponder thus over her new-born babe: it isevident that he will not be able to walk if he does not first of allunderstand the laws of equilibrium; if he is left to himself, he willnot be able to understand these till he is twenty; I must thereforeprepare to teach him these laws prematurely in order that he may beable to walk as quickly as possible. The schoolmaster is the person who builds up the intelligence of thepupil; the intelligence of the pupil increases in direct proportion tothe efforts of the teacher; in other words, he knows just what themaster has made him know and understands neither more nor less thanthe master has made him understand. When an inspector visits a schooland questions the pupils he turns to the master, and if he issatisfied says: "Well done, teacher!" For the result is indubitablythe work of the master; the discipline by which he has fixed theattention of his pupils, even to the psychical mechanism which hasguided him in his teaching, all is due to him. God enters the schoolas a symbol in the crucifix, but the creator is the teacher. A good deal of help is given to teachers in their superhuman task. There is a kind of division of labor, by virtue of which more advancedexperts prepare the schemata of instruction; basing them uponpsychology, if the teaching is on a scientific plan, or on theprinciples laid down by one of the great pedagogists such as Herbart, for example; moreover, the sciences, such as hygiene and experimentalpsychology, are further invoked to overcome many practicaldifficulties and to help in the arrangement of schoolrooms, thedrawing up of the curriculum, time-tables, etc. Here, for instance, are notes for lessons on a psychological basis, that is to say, lessons which take account of the proper _order ofsuccession_ in which the psychical activities should develop in themind of the child; by exercises of this kind, the pupil will not onlylearn, but will develop his intelligence in accordance with the lawsgoverning its formation. [2] [Footnote 2: These two examples are taken from the well-known review, _I Diritti della Scuola_, Year xiv. ] OBJECT LESSON A Candle: _Education of the sensory and perceptive faculties_. _Sight_. --White, solid. _Touch_. --Greasy, smooth. _Nomenclature_. --Parts of the candle: wick, surface, extremity, edges, upper part, lower part, middle part. The candles we use are made of_wax_ mixed with _stearine_. Stearine is made of the fat of oxen andsheep and pigs. Hence they are called stearine candles. There are also_wax_ candles. These are yellowish and less greasy. Wax is produced bybees. There are also tallow candles; these are very greasy and have adisgreeable smell when burning. _Memory_. --Have you ever seen a candle-factory? Have you ever seen abee-hive? Of what are the cells of the honeycomb made? When do youlight a candle? Have you ever carried a lighted candle carelessly? Didnot this cause a disaster? _Imagination_. --Draw the outline of a candle on the blackboard. _Comparison, association, abstraction_. --Similarity and difference incandles of stearine, wax, and tallow. _Judgment and reasoning_. --Are candles useful? Were they more usefulformerly, or now that we have gas and electric light? _Sentiments_. --Children are greatly pleased by a visit to acandle-factory. It is indeed very agreeable to see how candles used byso many people are made. When we can satisfy our desire forinstruction we feel pleasure and contentment. _Volition_. --What should we do with the fat of pigs if we did not knowhow to make it into stearine? What should we do with wax if we did notknow how to utilize it? Man is able to work and to transform manyproducts into useful substances and objects. Work is our life. Blessedbe the workers! Let us also love work and devote ourselves diligentlythereto. (N. B. --The children are all to listen without moving. ) Any kind oflesson may be based on the same psychical plan, even a moral lesson. For instance: _Moral education derived from the observation of actions_. (N. B. --The actions are all invented and narrated. ) _Agreeable manners. Incident_. --"Is it true, Miss, that the villagechurch is more than a kilometer from here? My mother has ordered me togo there. I thought I had arrived, and I was so pleased. I have come along way, and I am so very, very tired. " "Indeed, " replied the girl, who was standing at the gate of her home, "you are still a kilometerand a half from the church. But come through my gate, and take theshort cut I will show you through my fields. You will get to thechurch in five minutes. " What an amiable girl! _Successive relations of cause and effect_. --The village girl showedamenity to the little traveler. The latter reached the church quickly, was saved much fatigue, and felt great relief. _Memory_. --Have you always been pleasant to your companions? Have youalways been ready to lend a comrade anything he has asked for? Haveyou always thanked those who have done you favors in an agreeablemanner? _Comparison, association, abstraction_. --Comparison between anagreeable child and a boorish one. _Judgment, reasoning_. --Why is it necessary to be courteous to all? Isit sufficient to give help solely to show oneself to be amiable? _Sentiments_. --He who is amiable has a soul rich in sweetness andsuavity. What sympathy he evokes in all! The disagreeable person isirritated by trifles. He excites disgust and fear in others. He whois affable shows love to his neighbor. _Volition_. --Children, accustom yourselves to be pleasant to everyone. You should be pleasant when you are conferring some favor, otherwise the favor will seem irksome. When you want something, do youask for it arrogantly? If so, it will be easier to say no than yes toyou. On the other hand, if you ask politely for something, will it notbe difficult to refuse you? It will perhaps be more interesting to follow a lesson actually given, and accepted as a model for teachers in general. I therefore reproduceone of the lessons which gained a prize at a competition of teachersheld in Italy. [3] In this, according to the subject or theme, only oneprimary psychical activity was to be dealt with: viz. Sensoryperception. (The compositions were distinguished not by the names ofthe authors, but by mottoes. ) [Footnote 3: This was published in the review, _La Voce delle Maestred'Asilo_, Year viii. ] _Motto_. --Things are the first and best teachers. I set myself the following limits: _To give an idea of icy cold in contrast to that of heat_. [This wouldbe amply sufficient in itself, for these ideas are not grains to pickup one after the other, but sublime psychical facts of greatcomplexity, and, consequently, very difficult to assimilate. ] _Combine with the idea to be imparted, the cultivation of a sense ofcompassion and pity for the very poor_, to whom winter brings suchsevere suffering; a feeling I have already tried many times to arouse. The above is for my own guidance; what follows is for the children. "Children, how comfortable we are here! Everything is clean;everything is in order; I am so fond of you; you are so fond of me. Isn't this true, children? _Children_. --I am, I am. Me too (correct). Tell me, Gino, are you cold? You said no at once. Well, no, you areright; we are really very cozy here. There, in that corner (I point)there is a thing which gives out much ... _Children_. --Heat. It is the stove. But outside, where there is no stove, over there, towards the horizon(the children are to a certain extent familiar with this word), thereis no warmth. _Children_. --It's cold there (an answer due to the clarity of the lawsof contrast). Last night ... While we were asleep, while your mother perhaps wasmending your clothes ... Dear mother, how kind she is!... Well, lastnight, so many, many white flakes fell softly from the sky!... Snow, snow! exclaim the children. Children! let us say: so many snowflakes fell. How beautiful the snowis! Let us go and look at it closely. _Children_. --Yes, yes, yes, yes. It is so beautiful that I see you would all like to take a little. Butperhaps this is not allowed. To whom does the snow belong? (Noanswer. ) Who bought it? Who made it? You? No. I? No. Your mother? No. Then did your father buy it? (They look at me in astonishment; theseare really very strange questions. ) No, again. Well then, the snowbelongs to every one. And if this is so, we may take a little handfulof it. (Evident signs of joy. ) I will hand round the boxes you madeyesterday. (These children have not desks with lockers in which theymay put their little works. Using the boxes will be a good way ofdemonstrating the utility of their work. ) They will do very well tohold the beautiful snow. (I talk to them as I distribute the boxes, that their attention may not flag. ) I will take mine too, the one Imade with you. It is larger than yours; so which will hold more snow, mine or yours? _Children_. --Yours. Come then, children. Put a white handful into your boxes. Howdelightful! (Going. ) Just stop a moment; how comfortable we are here! Put one handover your face. How warm your face is, and how warm your hand is too!We shall see whether your hands will still be so warm after you havetouched the snow. _Children_. --They will be cold. Yes, indeed. (Going out. ) How beautiful it is! It fell down fromabove. The sky has given the earth a beautiful dress, all ... _Children_. --White. At this juncture my children, accustomed to that principle ofhealthful, ordered liberty which is the main factor in the formationof character, touch and gather up the snow; some of them break thepure surface with little drawings. I let them. I wait a minute, then Imake as it were a sudden assault upon their attention: Children, I too will take a little snow, but together with all of you. Stop. Stand up. Look well at me. Let us take away a little strip ofthe great cloak. Let us put it in our boxes. That's right. (Re-entering the schoolroom. ) Oh! how cold it is! The children who arenot well wrapped up are the coldest. Poor little things! And thosewho haven't that thing full of burning coal in their houses! _Children_. --The stove. How cold they will be! Come now, quickly; all to your places. Put theboxes on the desk. How cold the snow is! Did you notice how cold itmade your hands, which were quite warm? _Children_. --My hand is cold! Mine too! Etc. In the courtyard, I saw Caroline take a little snow, and then suddenlylet it fall; she was not strong enough to bear such cold. But then shetried again, and the second time she did not drop it. _Child_. --I didn't. I putted it (correct) quickly into my box. Children, when the cold is as great as the cold of the snow, it iscalled _frost_. Say that, Guido. What is the word? Now you, Giannina. And the snow which is so cold is ... What? Who can guess? _A child_. --Frozen. Say: the snow is _frozen_. We came indoors, because it is frosty outside, and inside it is ... _Children_. --Warm. But we brought with us a frozen thing which is called ... _Children_. --Snow. What is it the stove gives us? _Do you remember?_ [4] _Children_. --Heat. I want Maria to tell me. And now, Peppino. [Footnote 4: The children are expected to know that the stove givesout heat, by an effort of _memory_. ] Do you know, our mouths also give out heat. Open yours. Not too much!Hold up one hand in front of it, the right hand. Breathe on it as Iam doing. Let us breathe again; now let us send our breath outwards, as I am doing. Again ... Again ... Again. That's right. Now feel. Yousee your mouth too gives out a little ... _Children_. --Heat. Now let us try putting a little snow into it. A little piece likethis. Oh! the heat of the mouth is escaping, it has already gone atthe icy touch of the snow. _Children_. --Our mouths are cold now. Yes, that's right. They are very, very cold, so cold that they arewhat we call ... _Children_. --Freezing. Perhaps Giuseppe doesn't know. He didn't say it with the others. Sayit again, that he may say it with you. Again. That will do. Bravo, Giuseppe. So our mouths were ... _Children_. --Freezing. Let us eat another little piece of snow. The snow turns to water inour mouths, because it is made of water only. Now bread is made ofwater too, but not _only_ of water. What does the baker want to makethe dough for bread?... _Children_. --Flour. And what else? _Children_. --Salt. And what else? _Children_. --Yeast. I see Luigi is still eating snow, and Alfonso too, and Pierino. Do youlike it? _Children_. --Yes, Signora. Do you like it? _Children_. --Yes, Signora. Me too, me too (correct). Well, eat a little more, but not much, it might make you ill. It is sofreezing (I repeat this word very often, because it expresses the ideaI am trying to convey). When it snows it is so very cold, and just think that there are manychildren, many people, who are not warmly dressed and have no stoves;they are very poor. They suffer very much, and some of them die; poorpeople! How fortunate we are, on the other hand! We have so manygarments (they have learned this word) to cover ourselves with; wehave a stove at home and one at school, to warm us. How lucky we are! _A child_. --I have no stove at home. I know you have not, Emilio, and I am very sorry. Children, you mustbe kind to Emilio and Giuseppina, because they are very ... _Children_. --Poor. Have you eaten it all? _Children_. --No, Signora. Now let us go into the courtyard and throw away the rest of the snow. Then we will put the boxes on this table to dry. And to-morrow I willshow you a pretty picture of country covered with snow. Come along;bring your boxes, and when you have emptied them put them back where Itold you. " I intend to repeat this lesson in another form, combining others withit, and referring in it to other ideas, which bear a relation to thathere set forth. As everything in the physical and moral world is one and indivisible, bound together in closest union, human development is gravely impededby the presentment of isolated educational facts in a desultorymanner, because it is impossible to disconnect things united by asacred and eternal law. * * * * * In the above "model" lesson, it is claimed that only two perceptionsare dealt with, those of cold and heat, and that the child has beenallowed a good deal of liberty, but of a judicious kind. Now it would be exceedingly difficult to limit the perceptionsstrictly to two, especially when dealing with persons placed in anenvironment abounding in stimuli, who have already stored up a wholechaos of images. But such being the object in view, it is necessary toeliminate as far as possible all other perceptions, to arrest thosetwo, and so to polarize attention on them that all other images shallbe obscured in the field of consciousness. This would be thescientific method tending to isolate perceptions; and it is in factthe practical method adopted by us in our education of the senses. Inthe case of cold and heat, the child is "prepared" by the isolation ofthe particular sense in question; he is placed blindfolded in a silentplace, to the end that thermic stimuli alone may reach him. In frontof the child are placed two objects perfectly identical in allcharacteristics perceptible to the muscular tactile sense: of the samedimensions, the same shape, the same degree of smoothness, the sameresistance to pressure; for instance, two india-rubber bags, filledwith the same quantity of water, and perfectly dry on the outside. Thesole difference is the temperature of the water in the two bags; inthe hot one, the water would be at a temperature of sixty degreescentigrade; in the cold, at ten degrees centigrade. After directingthe child's attention to the object, his hand is drawn over the hotbag, and then over the cold one; while his hand is on the hot bag theteacher says: It is hot! While he feels the cold one he is told: Itis cold. And the lesson is finished. It has consisted merely of twowords, and of a long preparation designed to ensure that as far aspossible, the two sensations corresponding to these two words shall bethe only ones that reach the child. The other senses, sight andhearing, were protected against stimuli; and there was no perceptibledifference in the objects offered to the touch save that oftemperature. Thus it becomes approximately probable that the childwill achieve the perception of two sensations exclusively. And what about the liberty of the child, we shall be asked? Well, we admit that every lesson infringes the liberty of the child, and for this reason we allow it to last only for a few seconds: justthe time to pronounce the two words: hot, cold; but this is effectedunder the influence of the preparation, which by first isolating thesense makes, as it were, a darkness in the consciousness, and thenprojects only two images into it. As if from the screen before a magiclantern, the child receives his psychical acquisitions, or rather theyare like seeds falling on a fertile soil; and it is in the subsequentfree choice, and the repetition of the exercise, as in the subsequentactivity, spontaneous, associative, and reproductive, that the childwill be left "free. " He receives, rather than a lesson, a determinateimpression of contact with the external world; it is the clear, scientific, pre-determined character of this contact whichdistinguishes it from the mass of indeterminate contacts which thechild is continually receiving from his surroundings. The multiplicityof such indeterminate contacts will create chaos within the mind ofthe child; pre-determined contacts will, on the other hand, initiateorder therein, because with the help of the technique of isolation, they will begin to make him distinguish one thing from another. The technique of our lessons is governed by experimental psychology. And this trend, without doubt, is in contrast to that of the past, which was governed by speculative psychology, on which the whole ofthe educational methods commonly in use in schools has hitherto beenbased. It was Herbart who used the philosophical psychology of his day as aguiding principle to reduce pedagogic rules to a system. From hisindividual experience he believed he could deduce a universal methodof developing the mind, and be made this the psychological basis ofmethods of teaching. The German pedagogist, whose methods are now, thanks to Credaro, formerly Professor of Pedagogy at the University ofRome, and afterward Minister of Education, adopted for elementaryeducation throughout Italy, gave a unique type of lesson on the fourwell-known periods (the formal steps): clarity, association, system, method. These may be explained approximately as follows: presentationof an object and its analytical examination (clarity); judgment andcomparison with other surrounding objects or with mnemonic images(association); definition of the object deduced from precedingjudgments (system); new principles derived from the idea which is thusdeepened, and which will lead to practical application of a moralorder (method). The teacher must guide the child's mind on these lines in every kindof teaching; he must, however, never substitute his own intelligencefor that of the child, but rather make the child himself think, andinduce him to exercise his own activity. For instance, in theassociation period, the master must not say: "Look at such and suchan object, and at such and such another; see how much alike they are, etc.... " He should ask the pupil: "What do you see when you lookaround? Is there not something which is like, etc. ?" Again, in thedefinition period, the master should not say: "A bird is a vertebrateanimal covered with feathers; it has two limbs which have beentransformed into wings, " but by rapid questions, corrections, andanalogies, he should induce the child to find the precise definitionfor himself. If the mental process of Herbart's four periods is tocome naturally, it would be essential that great interest in theobject should exist; it is interest which would keep the mind amused, or, as the famous pedagogist would say, plunged in the idea, and wouldmaintain it in a system nevertheless embracing multilateral ideas; andhence it is necessary that "interest" should be awakened and shouldpersist in all instruction. It is well known that a pupil of Herbart'smust, to this end, supplement Herbart's four periods by a priorperiod, that of interest; linking all new knowledge to the old, "goingfrom the known to the unknown, " because what is absolutely new canawake no interest. "To make oneself interesting artificially, " that is, interesting tothose who have no interest in us, is indeed a very difficult task; andto arrest the attention hour after hour, and year after year, not ofone, but of a multitude of persons who have nothing in common with us, not even years, is indeed a superhuman undertaking. Yet this is thetask of the teacher, or, as he would say, his "art": to make thisassembly of children whom he has reduced to immobility by disciplinefollow him with their minds, understand what he says, and learn; aninternal action, which he cannot govern, as he governs the positionof their bodies, but which he must win by making himself interesting, and by maintaining this interest. "The art of tuition, " says Ardigo, "consists mainly of this: to know up to what point and in what mannerone can maintain the interest of pupils. The most skilful teachers arethose who never fatigue one fraction of the pupil's brain, but act insuch a manner that his attention, turning now here, now there, mayrest itself and, gaining strength, return to the principal argument ofthe discourse with renewed vigor. " A much more laborious art is that which leads the child to find bymeans of its own mental processes, not what it would naturally find, but what the teacher desires, although he does not say what he desires;he urges on the child to associate his ideas "spontaneously"--as theteacher associates them--and even succeeds in making the child composedefinitions with the exact words he himself has fixed upon, withouthaving revealed them. Such a thing would seem the result of someoccult science, a kind of conjuring trick. Nevertheless, such methodshave been and still are in use, and in some cases they form the soleart of the teacher. When in 1862 Tolstoy was making his tours of inspection in the schoolsof Germany, he was struck by this method of tuition, and among thepedagogic writings describing his school, Iasnaja Poliana, hereproduces a lesson which deserves to be recorded, although perhaps itwould no longer be possible to find an example of such a lesson in anyGerman school. IASNAJA POLIANA, 1862. Calm and confident, the professor is seated in the class-room; the instruments are ready; little tables with the letters, a book with the picture of a fish. The master looks at his pupils; he knows beforehand all they are to understand; he knows of what their souls consist, and various other things he has learned in the seminary. He opens the book and shows the fish. "Dear children, what is this?" The poor children are delighted to see the fish, unless indeed they already know from other pupils with what sauce it is to be served up. In any case, they answer: "It is a fish. " "No, " replies the professor (all this is not an invention nor a satire, but an exact account of what I have seen without exception in all the best schools in Germany, and in those English schools which have adopted this method of teaching). "No, " says the professor. "Now what is it you do see?" The children are silent. It must not be forgotten that they are obliged to remain seated and quiet, each one in his place, and that they are not to move. "Well, what do you see?" "A book, " says the most stupid child in the class. Meanwhile, the more intelligent children have been asking themselves over and over again what it is they do see; they feel they cannot guess what the teacher wants, and that they will have to answer that this fish is not a fish, but something the name of which is unknown to them. "Yes, yes, " says the master, eagerly, "very good indeed, a book. And what else?" The intelligent ones guess, and say joyfully and proudly: "Letters. " "No, no, not at all!" says the teacher, disappointed; "you must think before you speak. " Again all the intelligent ones lapse into mournful silence; they do not even try to guess; they think of the teacher's spectacles, and wonder why he does not take them off instead of looking over the top of them: "Come then; what is there in the book?" All are silent. "Well, what is this thing?" "A fish, " says a bold spirit "Yes, a fish. But is it a live fish?" "No, it is not alive. " "Quite right. Then is it dead?" "No. " "Right. Then what is this fish?" "A picture. " "Just so. Very good!" All the children repeat: "It is a picture, " and they think that is all. Not at all. They have to say that it is a picture which represents a fish. By the same method the master induces the children to say that it is a picture which represents a fish. He imagines that he is exercising the reasoning faculties of his pupils, and it never seems to enter his head that if it is his duty to teach children to say in these exact words, "it is a book with a picture of a fish, " it would be much simpler to repeat this strange formula and make his pupils learn it by heart. As a pendant to this old-fashioned lesson witnessed by Tolstoy in anelementary school in Germany, we may cite the following lessonrecently set forth by a distinguished French pedagogist andphilosopher, whose text-books are classics in the schools of his owncountry and in those of many foreign lands, and are also in use in theteachers' training colleges in Italy. As the sub-title on thetitle-page informs us, it is one of a series of "lessons designed tomold teachers and citizens who shall be conscious of their duties, anduseful to families, to their fatherland, and to humanity. " [5] We aretherefore in the ambit of secondary schools. The lesson we cite is apractical application of the principle of giving lessons by means ofinterrogation (Socratic method), and deals with a moral theme: rights. [Footnote 5: F. Alengry, _Education based upon Psychology andMorality_. ] "You boys have never mistaken your companion Paul for this table or this tree?--Oh, no!--Why?--Because the table and the tree are inanimate and insensible, whereas Paul lives and feels. --Good. If you strike the table it will feel nothing and you will not hurt it; but have you any right to destroy it?--No, we should be destroying something belonging to others. --Then what is it you respect in the table? the inanimate and insensible wood, or the property of the person to whom it belongs?--The property of the person to whom it belongs. --Have you any right to strike Paul?--No, because we should hurt him and he would suffer. --What is it you respect in him? the property of another, or Paul himself?--Paul himself. --Then you cannot strike him, nor shut him up, nor deprive him of food?--No. The police would arrest us if we did. --Ah! ah! you are afraid of the police. But is it only this which prevents you from hurting Paul?--Oh! no, Sir. It is because we love Paul and do not want to make him suffer, and because we have no right to do so. --You think then that you owe respect to Paul in his life and his feelings, because life and feeling are things to respect?--Yes, sir. Are these all you have to respect in Paul? Let us enquire; think well. --His books, his clothes, his satchel, the luncheon in it. --Well. What do you mean?--We must not tear his books, soil his clothes or his satchel, or eat his luncheon. --Why?--Because these things are his and we have no right to take things belonging to others. --What is the act of taking things that belong to others called?--Theft. --Why is theft forbidden?--Because if we steal we shall go to prison. --Fear of the police again! But is this the chief reason why we must not steal?--No, Sir, but because we ought to respect the property as well as the persons of others. --Very good. Property is an extension of human personality and must be respected as such. And is this all? Is there nothing more to respect in Paul than his body, his books and his copy-books? Do you not see anything else? Can you not think of anything more? I will give you a hint: Paul is an industrious pupil, an honest, good-natured companion; you are all fond of him, and he deserves your affection. What do we call the esteem we all feel for him, the good opinion we have of him?--Honor ... Reputation. --Well, this honor, this reputation, Paul acquired by good conduct and good manners. These are things which belong to him. --Yes, Sir; we have no right to rob him of them. --Very good; but what do we call this kind of theft, that is, the theft of honor and reputation? And first of all, how can we steal them? Can we take them and put them in our pockets?--No, but we can speak evil of him. --How?--We could say that he had done harm to one of his companions ... That he had stolen apples from a neighboring orchard ... That he had spoken ill of another. --That is so. But how could you rob him of honor and reputation by speaking thus?--Sir, people would no longer believe him if they had a bad opinion of him; he would be beaten, scolded, and left to himself. --Then if you speak evil of Paul, and what you say is false, do you give him pleasure?--No, Sir, we should cause him pain, and do him a wrong, which would be very odious and wicked of us. --Yes, boys, this lying with intent to injure would be odious and wicked, and it is called calumny. I will explain later that evil speaking differs from calumny or slander in that what is said is not untrue, and I will point out the terrible consequences of evil speaking and slander. Now let us sum up what we have said: Paul is a living and sensitive creature. We ought not to cause him suffering, to rob him, or to slander him; we ought to respect him. The honorable things in Paul constitute rights, and make him a moral person. The obligation laid upon us to respect these rights is called _duty_. The obligation and the duty of respecting the rights of others is also called _justice_. _Justice_ is derived from two Latin words (_in jure stare_), meaning: to keep oneself in the right. The duties of justice enumerated by us are to be summed up thus: Not to kill ... Not to cause suffering ... Not to steal ... Not to slander. Always reflect upon the words you say in which "Not" is followed by a verb in the imperative infinitive. What does that mean? An obligation, a command, a prohibition. --Go on, explain. The obligation of respect ... The command to respect rights ... The prohibition of stealing. How may all these things be summed up? _In doing no evil_. " * * * * * =Positive science makes its appearance in the schools=. --Positivescience was invited to enter into schools as into a chaos where it wasnecessary to separate light from darkness, a place of disaster whereprompt succor was essential. * * * * * =Discoveries of medicine: distortions and diseases=. --The first science, indeed, to penetrate into the school was medicine, which organized aspecial hygiene for the occasion, a kind of Red Cross service. Themost interesting part of the hygiene that penetrates into schools wasthat which diagnosed and described the "diseases of school children, "that is to say, the maladies contracted solely as a result of study inschool. The most prevalent of these maladies are spinal curvature andmyopia. The first is caused by excessive sitting, and by the injuriousposition of the shoulders in writing. The second arises from the factthat in the spot where the child has to remain seated, there is notsufficient light for him to see clearly; or this spot is too far fromthe blackboard, or from the places where the child has to read, andthe prolonged effort of accommodation induces myopia. Other minorgeneralized maladies were also described: an organic debility sowidely diffused that hygiene prescribed as an ideal treatment agratuitous distribution of cod-liver oil or of reconstituent remediesin general to all pupils. Anemia, liver complaints, and neurastheniawere also studied as school diseases. Thus a new field was opened to hygiene in connection with the mostfertile source of professional disease, and reading and writing werecarefully studied in relation to pedagogical methods, and in relationto spinal curvature and defective refraction of the eyes. The figure of the child, that victim of unsuitable anddisproportionate work, was not hereby brought into strong relief, asmight have been expected, by the aid of medicine, but a new branch of"legal medicine" came into being. It was, indeed, medicine which drewattention to the diseases and deaths of the victims in orphan asylums, victims of artificial or irrational feeding, in conjunction with wetnursing; it was medicine which passed in review one by one all thoseindividual cases which proclaim this legal fact: children have nocivil rights. Medicine now entered into another sphere where thevictims were not "cases, " but the generality, the child-population inits entirety; and now it is the law itself which imposes duties uponthem, and condemns them _en masse_ to labor for many years in amanner which entails physical torture. If a branch of legal medicinehas arisen in connection with criminals, how is it that none shouldever have arisen in connection with the innocent? * * * * * =Science has not fulfilled its mission in its dealings withchildren=. --Medicine has confined itself to the treatment of diseasesartificially produced. It has diagnosed a cause of disease and leftthis cause undisturbed, content merely to alleviate the resultantevils befalling a multitude of victims. It has not taken up theattitude proper to its great and dignified rôle of "protector" oflife; it has merely come forward, like the Red Cross Service duringwar, to heal the wounded and alleviate the condition of the suffering;it has not considered that the authority it enjoys as the guardian ofhealth would enable it to utter the supreme cry of peace, putting anend to a war so dangerous, unjust, and inhuman. As, in its struggle against microbes, it was the standard-bearer inthe most glorious of victories over death, so, fighting directlyagainst the causes of the impoverishment of generations, it might haveaspired to bear the banner of protector of posterity. Instead of this, it confined itself to the elaboration of a branch of study that mimicsscience: school hygiene; thus making itself the accomplice of a socialwrong. Let us glance into a recent treatise of school hygiene, which merelysums up the ideas and the work of the world at large: "We will briefly indicate the conditions favorable to the development of spinal curvature. The age when the malady usually appears is that of second infancy, hence its name of spinal curvature of the adolescent; spinal curvature caused by rickets, which appears in early childhood, is rarer, and is of less direct interest to us here. The commonest cause, and that on which our attention should be primarily concentrated, is the vicious attitude adopted by the majority of our pupils during their school work; this cause is so universal that we may call spinal curvature the professional disease of the pupil. Doctor Legendre, in a formula which may be judged over-severe, though unhappily it is only too well-founded, said of our schools that they are factories for the production of the deformed and the myopic. "The main cause of myopia is to be found in the very conditions under which children are gathered together in schools: insufficiency of light, the over-small type common in school-books, the frequent use of the blackboard, on which the teacher is not always careful to make the size of the characters he traces proportionate to the distance at which they have to be read, are so many causes of ocular fatigue. The visual keenness of a given eye, says Doctor Leprince, decreases rapidly when the intensity of the light falls below a certain limit. The pupil, working with insufficient light, repairs the defective keenness of which this is the cause, by increasing the visual angle under which the details of the object he is looking at appear to him; in other words, _he brings that object inordinately close to him_. "The time necessary to recognize a given letter increases greatly, when the limit of visual acuteness has been reached. Therefore, insufficient light would tend to make work slower, unless the pupil increased acuteness by approaching the object more closely. Thus myopia constitutes a positive adaptation to the defective conditions of work, enabling the pupil to work more rapidly. " [6] [Footnote 6: Bronardet and Mosny, _Hygiène Scolaire_. Boillière, Paris, 1914, pp. 142, 143, 430, 496. ] It would seem therefore natural to say: let the child find himself abetter lighted place; if the blackboard is at some distance from him, let him come nearer to it; if the insufficient light retards his work, let him go more slowly; if the questions at issue are such harmlessthings as changing a place, advancing a step or two, taking a fewminutes longer over a task--what tyrant on earth would deny such asmall favor, and condemn the suppliant to blindness? Such a tyrant is the teacher, who aspires to win the affection of hisvictims by means of moral exhortations. It would be so simple to allow children, when tired of sitting, torise, and when tired of writing, to desist, and then their bones wouldnot be twisted. Who can look on unmoved at the spectacle of childrenwhose vertebral column is being deformed by using desks, just as inthe Middle Ages the instep was deformed by the torture of the boot. And on what grounds is this odious torture judged to be necessary? Because a man has substituted himself for God, desiring to form theminds of children in his own image and likeness; and this cannot bedone without subjecting a free creature to torture. This is the onlyreason. We will now quote the remedies by means of which a so-called scienceproposes to counteract spinal curvature in school-children. It hasdetermined the exact position in which a child may remain seated andat work for a long period of time without injury to the vertebrae. "The child, seated at the table, should have his feet planted flat upon the ground, or upon a foot-rest. The legs should be at right-angles to the thighs, as should the thighs be to the trunk, save for a slight inclination of the bench itself. The trunk should be in such a position that there will be no lateral inclination of the vertebral column, the arms should be parallel with the sides of the body, the thorax should not be interfered with by the front edge of the table, the pelvic basin should be symmetrically supported, the head slightly bent forward at a distance of thirty centimeters from the level of the table; the axis of the eyes, remaining parallel with the front edge of the table, should be horizontal; the forearms, two-thirds of which should be laid on the table, should rest on it, but without leaning upon it. " To realize all these conditions, it is necessary that the desk shouldbe _exactly fitted_ to the proportions of the child; its constituentparts should agree with those of the body and limbs of the scholar. The following are the measurements which Dufessel consideredindispensable in the fashioning of a desk suitable for children: 1. Height. 2. The length of the leg, taken from below the knee, when the child isseated with the legs at right-angles to the thighs, and the feet flaton the ground. This measurement gives the required height of the seatfrom the foot-rest. 3. The diameter of the body from front to back, taken from thesternum; this, with five centimeters added to it, gives the properdistance from the reading-desk to the back of the seat. 4. The length of the femur, two-thirds of which represent the depth ofthe seat. 5. Finally, the height of the epigastric cavity above the seat, augmented by a few centimeters, indicates the height of thereading-desk. We may add that in view of the rapid growth of the child, thesemeasurements should be taken twice in the course of the school year, and children should be made to change places in accordance with thesemeasurements. There is a little crustacean which, coming naked into the world, chooses an empty shell and adapts itself thereto; when it grows largerand the shell becomes too tight, it sallies forth and takes up itsabode in a larger one. This the creature does of its own accord, without a savant to measure it or a teacher to choose a new shell forit. But to us and to scientists, a child is inferior to this lowlyinvertebrate! The difficulty of keeping forty or fifty children motionless for hoursin the prescribed hygienic attitude, and of finding desks exactlyadapted to these growing bodies, makes this remedy impracticable, sohunchbacks continue among us. The problem remains unsolved. Hence it has been deemed more practical to establish a kind oforthopaedic institution within the building itself in certain modelschools in Rome. It consists of a costly and elaborate apparatus, towhich the pupils come in turn to be suspended by the head after themethod adopted in medicine to combat spinal curvature in Pott'sdisease (tuberculosis of the vertebral column) and rickets. Healthy children, as well as the unsound, suffer by theseapplications; but on the other hand, the results afford encouragingstatistics. If this hanging treatment be initiated regularly at theage of six years it strikes a perfect balance with the injury causedby prolonged deterioration induced by school desks, and children aredelivered from spinal disease. * * * * * =Discoveries of experimental psychology: overwork; nervousexhaustion=. --Hygiene, making its way into the school, discoveredscholar's spinal curvature and scholar's myopia; experimentalpsychology discovered the exhaustion due to overwork, and studied the_fatigue_ of the scholar. It followed in the beaten track ofmedicine--that is to say, it sought to alleviate the ills it haddiagnosed, and instituted a branch of science the title of which isnot very clearly defined as yet, for some call it experimentalpsychology applied to the school, others Scientific Pedagogy. It is necessary to remember that experimental psychology wasestablished in 1860 by Fechner, who was a physicist accustomed toexperiment on _things_, not on living creatures, and who merelyadapted the methods employed in physics to psychical measurements, thus founding psycho-physics. The instruments specially invented foresthesiometric measurements were of extreme precision; but the resultsobtained showed such variations that by mathematical law they couldnot be attributed to "errors of measurement, " but were obviously dueto "errors of method. " Indeed, for the measurement of liquids it isnecessary to have an instrument different from that which we use inmeasuring solids, although we are still in the domain of physics; wecannot measure a stuff by the quart, nor wine by the yard; how muchmore then must the methods of measuring physical substances andspiritual energy differ? After psycho-physics, psycho-physiology was introduced by Wundt. Wundt, being a physiologist, applied the methods of study proper tophysiological functions to psychical study. He did not make the exactmetrical instrument his aim; but he measured nervous reactions exactlyin _time_. Fechner's primitive researches made it possible to produceinstruments so exact that they can measure the sound made by a drop ofwater falling from the height of a meter, while Wundt's researcheshave resulted in chronometers which can measure the thousandth part ofa second. But the spirit did not correspond to the exactness ofresearch--the results showed by their oscillations that nothing wasbeing measured--that the object to be measured escaped. It willsuffice to mention that in measuring the nervous currents in rate oftransmission of impulse along the nerves and also in the ganglioncells of the spinal marrow, Exner arrived at a rapidity of eightmeters, and Bloch at a rapidity of 194 meters, in the same unit oftime. In spite of this startling contrast between the precision of the meansof research and the huge variations in the results, which were shownby mathematical law to be absurd, experimental psychology carried onextensive studies, under the illusion that it rested upon amathematical basis. It is from this science that a branch has been detached with which topenetrate into the school, for the purpose of giving spiritual help tothe scholar, and fresh vigor to pedagogy. Methods of research are no longer merely those antiquatedpsycho-physical and psycho-physiological methods formerly in favor;experimental psychology, henceforth emancipated from its origins, hasdeveloped independently. It now relies on purely psychological testsfor its researches, and although it does not exclude the methodsadopted in the laboratory, and the use of such accurate andtrustworthy instruments as the esthesiometer and the ergograph, theschool itself has become the chief field of experiment. For example: one of the most familiar tests of attention is to give aprinted page to be read over, with directions to strike out every _a_on the page; the time taken to complete this task is measured bychronometer. Counting aloud from one to a hundred, and at the same time carrying onarithmetical operations in writing, is a measure of the distributionof the attention, provided the time taken be calculated by thechronometer, and all errors be noted. To make several persons performsimilar exercises at the same time enables us to study comparativeindividual activities. In schools, exercises in dictation which havebeen previously determined, may be given to a group of scholars, carebeing taken to note the time occupied in performing the exercise andto compare the errors. This is also an easy and practical means ofobtaining collective results. These experiments all psychologists agree should be carried outwithout interrupting the usual routine of the school. They are to beregarded as an addition, an _extra_, and may be summed up as a meansof scientific research, throwing light upon the regular psychicalconditions of school studies. The principal results of such experiments have been: the multiplicityof mistakes made, and the difficulty of fixing attention; that is tosay, they reveal the weariness, the degree of fatigue, in children. This gave the alarm! Old-fashioned pedagogy was concerned solely withwhat children ought to do. The idea that their nervous energies mightbe impaired was first called into being by the warning note ofscience. Researches into the causes of fatigue became more and more frequent, and coupled with such researches was the less immediate enquiry as tohow fatigue could be "combated" or "alleviated. " All the factorsrelating to the question were studied: age, sex, the degree ofintelligence, the type of individual, the influence of the seasons, the influence of the various times of the day, of the various days ofthe week, of habit, intervals of relaxation, interest, variety ofwork, the position of the body, and, finally, position in reference tothe cardinal points. * * * * * =Science is confronted by a mass of unsolved problems=. --The outcome ofall these researches is a growing mass of unsolved problems. It hasnot been established whether males are more easily fatigued thanfemales; whether the intelligent are more subject to fatigue than theunintelligent. With regard to the individual type, Tissié's conclusionseems to be the most noteworthy: "Each individual becomes fatigued ornot according to his degree of will. " In connection with the seasonsit appears that fatigue increases from the first to the last day ofschool, but it is uncertain whether this is due to the influence ofthe seasons, or whether, as Schuyten affirms, the scholar's gradualexhaustion is due to the scholastic system. With regard to the time ofday, "it is still a question whether the fatigue produced is less whenthe pupil works spontaneously, but this problem is a difficult one tosolve. " The days of the week when fatigue is least evident are Mondayand Friday, but researches made in this connection are not definitive;as to habit, intervals of rest, interest: "in connection with thesefactors which are antagonistic to fatigue, it has been questionedwhether they actually diminish fatigue, or merely cloak it, but nodecision has been reached. " A great variety of interesting researcheshave been made into the question of change of work with identicalresults--namely, that frequent change of work causes greater fatiguethan continuous work of one kind, and that a sudden interruption ismore fatiguing than persistence. The following experiment (quoted byClaparède) was made by Schultze: one day the girls were required toadd up figures for twenty-five minutes, and then to copy out passagesfor another twenty-five minutes. Another day they performed the samework, but it was differently divided; they had to add for fiftyminutes and to copy for another fifty minutes. Now these last testsgave results infinitely superior to the first. And yet it is wellknown that, in spite of such results, constant interruption and changeof work are commonly practised in schools, as part of a scientificplan for combating fatigue. One of the researches directly relating to schools is that of theponogenic co-efficient of the various subjects of instruction, that isto say, of the degrees of fatigue induced by these. Wagner is ofopinion _a priori_ that one hundred, the maximum co-efficient, must beassigned to mathematics; in this case, we should get the followingponogenic co-efficients in schools, for each subject: Mathematics 100 Latin 91 Greek 90 Gymnastics 90 History and Geography 85 French and German 82 Natural History 80 Drawing, Religion 77 We may note the arbitrary and surprising manner in which such resultsare established; nevertheless, in the name of "experimental science"it is possible to make such deductions as the following: "It would be interesting to enquire if the order of the ponogenic co-efficients varies with the age of the children, which would enable us to know on the one hand when the brain is best fitted for the study of any particular subject and when therefore it would be most judicious to make it predominate in the program; on the other hand, it would help us in the arrangement of the daily time-table; we should take, if possible, the most fatiguing subjects at the beginning of the day" (Claparède, _op. Cit. _). Another order of recent researches is that made into the toxinesproduced by fatigue; Weichardt succeeded in isolating these toxines, and in fabricating anti-toxines with which he experimentedsuccessfully on rats. The experiments were also repeated in a clinic. With regard to the appearance of the toxines, it was found that theywere abundantly produced during the performance of "wearisome" work, whereas there were only traces of them to be found when the work was"interesting. " Throughout this science so packed with researches which give as theirresult unsolved problems, we perceive that not one of the factorstaken into consideration can alleviate fatigue; interruption andchange of work merely aggravate it. The one means by which _surménage_(exhaustion due to overwork) can be eliminated is to make workpleasant and interesting, to give joy in work rather than pain. "The necessity of making education and instruction attractive has been propounded by all pedagogists worthy of the name, such as Fénelon, Rousseau, Pestalozzi, Herbart, and Spencer, " says Claparède, "but it is still unrecognized in the everyday practise of the schools" (_op. Cit. _). "By common consent, the first duty of the educator is that of doing no harm: first do no harm, a precept also accepted in the practise of medicine. To obey it to the letter is, indeed, _impossible, because every method of scholastic education is in some way prejudicial to the normal development of the child_. But the educator will seek to _alleviate the injury which instruction necessarily entails_" (_op. Cit. _). This is indeed cold comfort, after all these studies and researches! Aconfession that problems have arisen at every step, and that not asingle one has been solved! Indeed, underlying all this is the_problem of problems_: how to make that place attractive and joyouswhere hitherto the body has been tortured and contorted, and the bloodpoisoned by weariness! It is impossible to educate without doing harm;but we must do harm that will give pleasure! This is truly anembarrassing position! And this is why an interminable string of notesof interrogation serves as the decorative motive of this new science, which might be more appropriately styled: _ignorabimus_. And it is for this reason that the considerations indicated by hygieneand psychology now tend to do away altogether with the sum total ofirreparable evils, "commuting the sentence, " that is to say, abbreviating hours of study, cutting down the curriculum, avoidingwritten exercises. Thus a new specter, that of ignorance, andhenceforth the abandonment of the child for the greater part of theday, present themselves as a substitute for the specter ofdestruction. Meanwhile our epoch demands an intensive care of the newgeneration, and the preparation of a culture ever vaster and morecomplex. True, it would appear that to-day a way of escape may be offered bythe discovery of the anti-toxine for fatigue. "Just think!" exclaimsClaparède, "a serum against fatigue. How valuable this would be!" Fromthis point of view, I should say that the ponogenic co-efficientsmight find a more practical and rational application than that of therevelation of "programs"; indeed these co-efficients indicating theproduction of toxines would appear destined to determine the dose ofanti-toxine necessary to nullify the evil effects resulting from eachdifferent subject of instruction. In the not far distant future, whenthese auxiliary sciences of the school and pedagogy shall have madedue progress, we shall perhaps see, side by side with the orthopaedicward, a physio-chemical clinic, where every evening the pupils, asthey leave the beneficent suspensory apparatus which counteractsinjury to their skeletons, may enter with a kind of ponogenicprescription regulated by the teaching they have undergone, andreceive an injection which will deliver them from the poisonouseffects of fatigue! This reads like an irony of the worst kind, perhaps; but this is notthe case. Where the orthopaedic institution is already an accomplishedfact, we may very soon see the chemical clinic established. If aproblem of liberty is to be solved with machines, and if a problem ofjustice is to be regarded from the chemical point of view, similarconsequences will be the logical end of sciences developed upon sucherrors. It is obvious that a real experimental science, which shall guideeducation and deliver the child from slavery, is not yet born; when itappears, it will be to the so-called "sciences" that have sprung up inconnection with the diseases of martyred childhood as chemistry toalchemy, and as positive medicine to the empirical medicine of bygonecenturies. I think it will be of interest here to record the impressions of aperson who, leaving the field of mathematics, entered upon the studyof biology and experimental psychology. It is an account of a young English engineer, who had evidentlymistaken his vocation, and who, after studying my method for twoyears, returned to the universities of his own great country as astudent of biology. This is his opinion of experimental psychology: In psychology we are studying the most modern experimental researches. At present we are engaged upon Thought and Imagination. I must confess that I do not find this course very illuminating, though I agree that it is necessary to know something of these researches. In modern psychology there is nothing at all adequate to the subject of our method. These investigators seem to me like persons looking at a tree, and noting the most obvious of its external forms: the shape of a leaf, a stem, etc. , doing all this with great gravity and using very precise language (perhaps believing that this constitutes science), but often confusing the function of _definition_ with that of _description_. In this manner descriptions of wonderful and fascinating things are reduced to arid definitions, in order to be clothed in their science, and thus are rendered powerless to inspire thought. They never meditate; they read a great deal; they think in mental images which no more represent facts than a diagram on the blackboard represents a living organ; and these images differ among different psychologists, but their language is always the same. They do all this believing they are making progress, and instead of training their pupils to observe for themselves without prejudice, they instil their own prejudices into the minds of the students, cramming them with definitions and descriptions of the strangest and most amorphous kind, which effectually prevent them from thinking for themselves. But within the tree there is the fundamental structure which they have not begun to examine, though the revelation of this would explain all the external data. The details would diminish in importance; all these details issuing from a single root might be classified in the simplest manner. This "science" reminds me of that antiquated lore which dealt with the constellations, when the laws of planetary motion were not yet known, and the so-called science confined itself to descriptions of the "Great Bear, " the "Crab, " the "Goat, " etc. I detest those dryasdusts who, unaware of their own ignorance, write enormous arid tomes with an air of great majesty, as if they were revealing absolute knowledge, books that lie heavy on the minds of the students, making them dry as their teachers. But the students seem to me to care only about passing their examinations and to have no thought of discovering new knowledge; and the professors "serve" them to this end. Thus we are all in a state of servitude due to a mistaken system of education, which calls loudly for reform. III MY CONTRIBUTION TO EXPERIMENTAL SCIENCE =The organization of psychical life begins with the characteristicphenomenon of attention=. --My experimental work with little childrenfrom three to six years old has been, in fact, a practicalcontribution to research which has for its aim the discovery of thetreatment required by the soul of the child, a treatment analogous tothat which hygiene prescribes for its body. I think, therefore, that it is essential to record the fundamentalfact which led me to define my method. I was making my first essays in applying the principles and part ofthe material I had used for many years previously in the education ofdeficient children, to the normal children of the San Lorenzo quarterin Rome, when I happened to notice a little girl of about three yearsold deeply absorbed in a set of solid insets, removing the woodencylinders from their respective holes and replacing them. Theexpression on the child's face was one of such concentrated attentionthat it seemed to me an extraordinary manifestation; up to this timenone of the children had ever shown such fixity of interest in anobject; and my belief in the characteristic instability of attentionin young children, who flit incessantly from one thing to another, made me peculiarly alive to the phenomenon. I watched the child intently without disturbing her at first, andbegan to count how many times she repeated the exercise; then, seeingthat she was continuing for a long time, I picked up the littlearmchair in which she was seated, and placed chair and child upon thetable; the little creature hastily caught up her case of insets, laidit across the arms of her chair, and gathering the cylinders into herlap, set to work again. Then I called upon all the children to sing;they sang, but the little girl continued undisturbed, repeating herexercise even after the short song had come to an end. I countedforty-four repetitions; when at last she ceased, it was quiteindependently of any surrounding stimuli which might have distractedher, and she looked round with a satisfied air, almost as if awakingfrom a refreshing nap. I think my never-to-be-forgotten impression was that experienced byone who has made a discovery. This phenomenon gradually became common among the children: it maytherefore be recorded as a constant reaction occurring in connectionwith certain external conditions, which may be determined. And eachtime that such a polarisation of attention took place, the child beganto be completely transformed, to become calmer, more intelligent, andmore expansive; it showed extraordinary spiritual qualities, recallingthe phenomena of a higher consciousness, such as those of conversion. It was as if in a saturated solution, a point of crystallization hadformed, round which the whole chaotic and fluctuating mass united, producing a crystal of wonderful forms. Thus, when the phenomenon ofthe polarisation of attention had taken place, all that was disorderlyand fluctuating in the consciousness of the child seemed to beorganizing itself into a spiritual creation, the surprisingcharacteristics of which are reproduced in every individual. It made one think of the _life of man_ which may remain diffused amonga multiplicity of things, in an inferior state of chaos, until somespecial thing attracts it intensely and fixes it; and then man isrevealed unto himself, he feels that he has begun to live. This spiritual phenomenon which may co-involve the entireconsciousness of the adult, is therefore only one of the constantelements of the phenomena of "internal formation. " It occurs as thenormal beginning of the inner life of children, and accompanies itsdevelopment in such a manner as to become accessible to research, asan experimental fact. It was thus that the soul of the child gave its revelations, and undertheir guidance a method exemplifying spiritual liberty was evolved. The story of this initiatory episode soon spread throughout the world, and at first it seemed like the story of a miracle. Then by degrees, as experiments were made among the most diverse races, the simple andevident principles of this spiritual "treatment" were manifested. * * * * * =Psychical development is organized by the aid of external stimuli, which may be determined experimentally=. --The contribution I have madeto the education of young children tends, in fact, to _specify_ bymeans of the revelations due to experiment, the form of liberty ininternal development. It would not be possible to conceive liberty of development, if by itsvery nature the child were not capable of a spontaneous organicdevelopment, if the tendency to develop his energies (expansion oflatent powers), the conquest of the means necessary to a harmoniousinnate development, did not already exist. In order to expand, thechild, left at liberty to exercise his activities, ought to find inhis surroundings something _organized_ in direct relation to hisinternal organization which is developing itself by natural laws, justas the free insect finds in the form and qualities of flowers a directcorrespondence between form and sustenance. The insect is undoubtedlyfree when, seeking the nectar which nourishes it, it is in realityhelping the reproduction of the plant. There is nothing more marvelousin nature than the correspondence between the organs of these twoorders of beings destined to such a providential cooperation. The secret of the free development of the child consists, therefore, in organizing for him the means necessary for his internalnourishment, means corresponding to a primitive impulse of the child, comparable to that which makes the new-born infant capable of suckingmilk from the breast, which by its external form and elaboratedsustenance, corresponds perfectly to the requirements of the infant. It is in the satisfaction of this primitive impulse, this internalhunger, that the child's personality begins to organize itself andreveal its characteristics; just as the new-born infant, in nourishingitself, organizes its body and its natural movements. We must not therefore set ourselves the educational problem of seekingmeans whereby to organize the internal personality of the child anddevelop his characteristics; the sole problem is that of offering thechild the necessary nourishment. It is by this means that the child develops an organized and complexactivity which, while it responds to a primitive impulse, exercisesthe intelligence and develops qualities we consider lofty, and whichwe supposed were foreign to the nature of the young child, such aspatience and perseverance in work, and in the moral order, obedience, gentleness, affection, politeness, serenity; qualities we areaccustomed to divide into different categories, and as to which, hitherto, we have cherished the illusion that it was our task todevelop them gradually by our direct interposition, although inpractise we have never known by what means to do so successfully. In order that the phenomenon should come to pass it is _necessary_that the spontaneous development of the child should be accorded_perfect liberty_; that is to say, that its calm and peacefulexpansion should not be disturbed by the intervention of an untimelyand disturbing influence; just as the body of the new-born infantshould be left in peace to assimilate its nourishment and growproperly. In such an attitude ought we to await the _miracles_ of the innerlife, its expansions and also its unforeseen and surprisingexplosions; just as the intelligent mother, only giving her babynourishment and rest, contemplates it, seeing it _grow_, and awaitsthe manifestations of nature: the first tooth, the first word, andfinally the action by which the baby will one day rise to his feet andwalk. But to ensure the psychical phenomena of growth, we must prepare the"environment" in a definite manner, and from this environment offerthe child the external means directly necessary for him. This is the _positive_ fact which my experiment has rendered concrete. Hitherto the liberty of the child has been vaguely discussed; noclearly defined limit has been established between liberty andabandonment. We were told: "Liberty has its limits, " "Liberty must beproperly understood. " But a special method indicating "how libertyshould be interpreted, and what is the intuitive _quid_ which oughtto co-exist with it, " had not been determined. The establishment of such a method should open up a new path to alleducation. * * * * * It is therefore necessary that the environment should contain themeans of auto-education. These means cannot be "taken at random"; theyrepresent the result of an experimental study which cannot beundertaken by all, because a scientific preparation is necessary forsuch delicate work; besides, like all experimental study, it islaborious, prolonged, and exact. Many years of research are required, before the means really _necessary_ for _psychical development_ can beset forth. Those educationalists who leave the great question of theliberty of the pupil to the good sense or to the preparation of themaster are very far from solving the problem of liberty. The greatestscientist, or the person most fitted by nature to teach, could neverof himself discover such, because, to preparation and natural gifts, the further factor of _time_ must be added--the long period ofpreparatory experiment. Therefore a _science_ which has already_provided the means_ for self-education must exist beforehand. To-day, he who speaks of liberty in the schools ought at the same time toexhibit objects--approximating to a scientific apparatus--which willmake such liberty possible. The scientific instrument must be constructed upon a basis of_exactitude_. Just as the lenses of the physicist are constructed inaccordance with the laws of the refraction of light, so the pedagogicinstrument should be based on the _psychical manifestations_ of thechild. Such an instrument may be compared to a systematized "mental test. " Itis not, however, established upon a basis of external measurement, forthe purpose of estimating the amount of instantaneous psychicalreaction which it produces; it is, on the contrary, a stimulus whichis itself determined by the psychical reactions it is capable ofproducing and maintaining permanently. It is the psychical reaction, therefore, that in this case determines and establishes the systematic"mental test. " The psychical reaction which constitutes the sole basisof comparison in the determination of the tests, is a _polarization ofthe attention_, and _the repetition of the actions_ related to it. When a stimulus corresponds in this manner to the "reflexpersonality, " it serves, not to _measure_ but to _maintain_ a livelyreaction; it is therefore a stimulus to the "internal formation. "Indeed, upon such activity, awakened and maintained, the accompanyingorganism initiates its internal elaborations in relation to thestimuli. This does not penetrate into the ancient ambit of pedagogy as ascience that _measures_ the personality, as the experimentalpsychology introduced in schools has hitherto done, but as a sciencethat _transforms_ the personality, and is therefore capable of takingits stand as a true and real pedagogy. Whereas the ancient pedagogy inall its various interpretations started from the conception of a"receptive personality"--one, that is to say, which was to receiveinstructions and to be passively formed, this scientific departurestarts from the conception of an _active_ personality--reflex andassociative--developing itself by a series of reactions induced bysystematic stimuli which have been determined by experiment. This newpedagogy accordingly belongs to the series of modern sciences, and notto antique speculations, although it is not directly based on thepurely metric studies of "positive psychology. " But the "method, "which informs it--namely, experiment, observation, evidence or proof, the recognition of new phenomena, their reproduction and utilization, undoubtedly place it among the experimental sciences. * * * * * =External stimuli may be determined in quality and quantity=. --Nothingcan be more interesting than such experiments. By their means externalstimuli may be determined with the greatest precision, both as regardsquality and quantity. For instance, very small objects of variousgeometric forms will only attract the fugitive attention of a child ofthree years old; but by increasing the dimensions gradually, we arriveat the limit of size when these objects will fix the attention; thensuch objects excite an activity which becomes permanent, and theresulting exercise becomes a factor of development. The experiment isrepeated with a number of children, and thus the dimensions of aseries of objects are established. It is the same with colors and with every kind of _quality_. In orderthat a quality should be felt to such a degree as to fix theattention, a certain extension and a certain intensity of the stimulusare necessary, which may be _determined_ by the degree of psychicalreaction shown by the child; as, for instance, the minimum chromaticextension sufficient to attract the attention to the colored tablets, etc. Quality, therefore, is determined by a psychical experimentdemonstrating the activity it produces in a child, who will continuethe exercise with the same object for a long time, thus elaborating aphenomenon of internal development, of self-formation. Among the characteristics of the objects, one must be pointed out, which demands the highest degree of activity in the intelligence: theycontain in themselves _control of error_. To make the process one of self-education, it is not enough that thestimulus should call forth activity, it must also direct it. The childshould not only persist for a long time in an exercise; he mustpersist without making mistakes. All the physical or intrinsicqualities of the objects should be determined, not only by theimmediate reaction of attention they provoke in the child, but also bytheir possession of this fundamental characteristic, the control oferror, that is to say the power of evoking the effective collaborationof the highest activities (comparison, judgment). For instance, one ofthe first objects which attract the attention of the child of threeyears old, the solid insets (a series of cylinders of variousdimensions to be placed in or taken out of a block with correspondingholes) contains the most mechanical control, because if a singlemistake be made in placing the cylinders, one of these must be leftout at the end of the exercise. Hence a mistake is an obstacle only tobe overcome by correction, for without it the exercise cannot becompleted. On the other hand, the correction is so easy that the childmakes it himself. The little problem suddenly presenting itself to thechild, almost like the unexpected object of a jack-in-the-box, has"interested" him. It is, however, noteworthy that the "problem" thus presented is not initself the stimulus to interest; it is not that which incites to therepetition of the act--to the progress of the child. What intereststhe child is the sensation, not only of placing the objects but ofacquiring a new power of perception, enabling him to recognize thedifference of dimension in the cylinders, a difference which he didnot at first notice. The _problem_ presents itself solely inconnection with the _error_, it does not accompany the normal processof development. An interest stimulated merely by _curiosity_, by a"problem, " would not be that formative interest which wells up fromthe needs of life itself, and therefore directs the building up of thespiritual personality. If it were only the problem which should leadthe soul to find itself, order might be dissipated by it, as by anyother external cause which tends to _seduce_ life into false paths. Ilay, perhaps, excessive stress upon this point, in answer to veryimportant objections and observations that have been made to me. Indeed in the second series of objects designed to educate the eye toappreciate dimensions, the control of error is not mechanical, butpsychological; the child himself, whose eye has been educated torecognize differences of dimension, will see the error, provided theobjects be of a certain size and attractively colored. It is for thisreason that the next objects contain, so to say, the control of errorin their own size and in their bright colors. A control of error of atotally different kind, and of a much higher order, is that offered bythe material of the arithmetical frame, in which the control willconsist in the comparison of the child's own work with that of amodel, a comparison which denotes a remarkably intelligent effort ofwill on the part of the child, and places him thenceforth in the trueconditions of conscious auto-education. But, however slight thecontrol of error may be, and in spite of the fact that this divergesmore and more from an external mechanism, to rely upon the internalactivities which are gradually developing, it always depends, like allthe qualities of the objects, upon the fundamental reaction of thechild, who accords it prolonged attention, and repeats the exercises. On the other hand, the experimental criterion is different, indetermining the _quantity of the objects_. When the instruments havebeen constructed with great precision, they provoke a spontaneousexercise so coordinated and so harmonious with the facts of internaldevelopment, that at a certain point a new psychical picture, aspecies of higher plane in the complex development, is revealed. The child turns away spontaneously from the material, not with anysigns of fatigue, but rather as if impelled by fresh energies, and hismind is capable of abstractions. At this stage of development, thechild turns his attention to the external world, and observes it withan order which is the order formed in his mind during the period ofthe preceding development; he begins spontaneously to make a series ofcareful and logical comparisons which represent a veritablespontaneous acquisition of "knowledge. " This is the period henceforthto be known as the period of "discoveries, " discoveries which evokeenthusiasm and joy in the child. This more elevated level of development is extremely fruitful in itslast ascent It is essential that the child's attention should not bedirected to the objects when the delicate phenomenon of abstractionbegins. For instance, the teacher who invites the child to continuehis operations with the material at such a moment, will retard hisspontaneous development and place an obstacle in his way. If theenthusiasm which leads the child to rise to greater heights andexperience so many intellectual emotions be extinguished, a path ofprogress has been closed. Now the same error may be committed by an_excessive quantity_ of the educative material; this may dissipate theattention, render the exercises with the objects mechanical, and causethe child to pass by his psychological moment of ascent withoutperceiving it and seizing it. Moreover, such objects are then futile, and, by their futility, "the child may lose his soul. " The thing to be exactly determined is: what is _necessary_ and_sufficient_ as a response to the internal needs of a life in processof development, that is, of upward progression, of _ascent_? Now indetermining the "quantity" we must be guided by the expression and atthe same time by the active manifestations of the child. Thosechildren who have long been occupied with these determined objects, showing every sign of absorbed attention, will, all of a sudden, beginto rise gradually and insensibly, like an aeroplane when it completesits short journey upon the ground. Their apparent indifference to theobjects is revealed in its true essence by the intense and radiantexpression of the face, which is animated by the liveliest joy. Thechild may seem to be doing nothing, but this will only be for amoment; very soon he will speak, and so will reveal what is happeningwithin him, and then his ebullient activity will carry him along in aseries of explorations and discoveries. He is saved. Now take the case of other children in whom the same primitivephenomenon is taking place, but who are surrounded by too great aprofusion of objects. At the moment of maturity they are seen to becaught, obstructed, almost palpably entangled in the toils that bindthem to earth. A diminution of the absorbed attention bestowed uponthe new objects, instability, and consequently fatigue, manifestthemselves in an obvious extinction of internal activity. The child'sbearing deteriorates, he indulges in loud, empty laughter, rudeactions, and indolence. He demands "other objects, " and then againother objects, because he has remained imprisoned "in the viciouscircle of vanities, " and is no longer sensible to anything but thedesire to alleviate his weariness. Like the adult who during a chaoticlife commits kindred errors, he becomes undisciplined, feeble, and "inperil of perdition. " If some one does not help him by wresting fromhim the futile objects, and pointing out his heaven to him, he willhardly have the energy to save himself. These two extreme types will give an idea of the criteria by which weexperimentally determine the quantity of the material necessary fordevelopment. Over-abundance debilitates and retards progress; this has been provedagain and again by my collaborators. If, on the other hand, the material be insufficient, and the primaryauto-exercise incapable of leading the child on to that _maturity_which causes him to ascend, there will be no explosion of thatspontaneous phenomenon of abstraction which is the second stage of anauto-education advancing in infinite progression. The same fundamentalphenomenon of absorbed and prolonged attention which leads torepetition of the acts, guides us in determining the stimuli suitableto the _age_ of the child. A stimulus which will cause a child ofthree years old to repeat an act forty times in succession, may onlybe repeated ten times by a child of six; the object which arouses theinterest of a child of three no longer interests a child of six. Nevertheless the child of six is capable of fixing his attention for amuch longer period than a child of three, when the stimulus is suitedto his activities; if, indeed, a little child of three may achieve ashis maximum the repetition of an act forty times in succession, thechild of six is capable of repeating two hundred times an act whichinterests him. If the maximum period of continuous work on the sameobject may be half an hour for the child of three, it may be over twohours for the child of six. Hence, to establish systematic tests for a certain purpose, such asthat of preparing children to write, without taking their ages intoaccount, is valueless. For example, my system of writing is based uponthe direct preparation of the movements which physiologically concurto produce writing: _i. E. _ manipulation of the instrument of writingand the tracing of the letters of the alphabet. The children, fillingin the contours of the insets with innumerable parallel strokes in theone case, and touching the sand-paper letters in the other, fix thetwo muscular mechanisms so perfectly, that the final result is an"explosion" of "spontaneous writing" extraordinarily uniform in allthe children--because, as if all molded to a common form, they havefixed the necessary movements by touching the same alphabet, andtherefore reproduce its forms faithfully. To bring this about, toestablish a real motor-mechanism, it is essential that the exerciseshould be repeated over and over again. Now the children who take mostinterest in filling in the figures with parallel strokes, and, aboveall, in touching the letters, are, at most, between four and fiveyears old. If we offer the same material to a child of six he will nottouch the letters often enough, and he will always write imperfectly, in comparison with the child who has begun the exercise at a suitableage. This applies also to all the other details of the system. It istherefore possible to determine experimentally, with, I believe, aprecision not hitherto attained, what is the mental attitude of thechild at various ages, and hence, if the fitting material fordevelopment be offered, what will be the average level ofintellectual development according to age. Here we have an indication of the possibility of _determining_ themeans of development so exactly as to establish a true correspondencebetween internal needs and external stimuli, just as actual as thecorrespondence which exists between the insect and the flower. He who has all this material ready to his hand has an easy task inbringing about the natural development of the psychic life of thechild. With such objects at his disposal, every teacher may realizethe ideal of _liberty in the school_. This long, occult experiment--suggested to me, as I have already said, by Itard and Séguin--is, in fact, my initial contribution toeducation. All this preparatory work has served for the determination of themethod now well known, but it is also the key to its continuation. * * * * * =The material of development is necessary only as a starting point=. --Inthe organization of the external means of development, there remains amaterial impress of the internal development, and of that which thesoul needs in its progress, during its course, and in its flights. Thematerial part does not contain the impress of the whole soul, any morethan the impress of the foot is the impress of the whole body; theaviation-ground is not the sphere of action proper to the aeroplane, but it is the part of _terra-firma_ necessary for flight, and it isalso the resting-place, the refuge, the _hangar_ to which theaeroplane must always return. Thus in psychical formation there is anecessary material part from which the spirit rises, and where itshould find repose, refuge, and a point of support, Without this itcould not grow and rise "freely. " In order that it may be a true support it ought "to reproduce itsforms" and contain them in the part corresponding to the peculiarfunctions of the material aid. Thus, for instance, in the first periodof the psychical life, the material corresponds to the primitiveexercises of the senses--it is in quality and quantity determined bythe sensory needs given by nature--and permits an exercise of theactivities sufficient to _mature_ a superior psychical state ofobservation and abstraction. _Vice versa_, nothing corresponds in thematerial to the subsequent career which the childish spiritaccomplishes with such delight and with so much acquisition ofknowledge. But we then see the spirit eager for higher kinds ofexercise--and now we witness the same primitive phenomenon ofattention, which will exercise itself henceforth upon the alphabet andarithmetical material, repeating in a more complex form methodicalexercises of the intelligence by linking auditory images with thevisible and motor images of the spoken and written word; and in thepositive study of quantities, proportions, and number. The sameconcomitant phenomena of "patience" and "perseverance" then manifestthemselves, together with those of vivacity, activity, and joy, characteristic of the spirit when the internal energies have foundtheir _keyboard_, the gymnasium in which they exercise themselvesfreely and tranquilly. And the spirit, organized in this manner under the guidance of anorder which corresponds to its natural order, becomes _fortified_, grows _vigorously_, and manifests itself in the _equilibrium_, the_serenity_, the self-control which produce the wonderful _discipline_characteristic of the behavior of our children. The external material, then, should present itself to the psychicalrequirements of the child as a staircase which helps him to ascend, step by step, and on the steps of this staircase there will ofnecessity be disposed the means of _culture_, and of the higher_formation_. Therefore the psychical exercises require new material, and this, if it is to fulfil its purpose, must contain new and morecomplex forms of objects capable of fixing the attention, of makingthe intelligence ripen in the continual exercise of its own energies, and of producing those phenomena of persistence in application and ofpatience to which will be added elasticity, psychical equilibrium, andthe capacity for abstraction and spontaneous creation. Thus, in thesubsequent development of the children, we see them applyingthemselves to those exercises of the memory which seem to us mostarid, because a desire has been born in them, not only to retain theimages they encounter in the world, but also to "acquire knowledgerapidly" by a determined effort. An example of this is seen in thesurprising yet common phenomenon of committing the multiplicationtable to memory, whereas the memorizing of poems and prose extracts, although this is sometimes a passion, causes us no surprise. Very interesting again, is the _detachment_ the child shows at acertain point from the aids to arithmetical calculation; at a certainstage of maturity he desires to "reason in the abstract" and make"abstract calculations with numbers, " as if obeying an internalimpulse which seeks to liberate the soul from every material bond andat the same time to effect an economy of time. Hereupon we seechildren of eight years old become eager and precocious calculators. Children thus launched upon the enterprises of self-education acquirea remarkable "sensibility" as to their own internal needs. Just as thenew-born infant whose food is rationally regulated, is silent andtranquil during the two hours of digestion and assimilation, and criesout the moment the hour for a fresh meal has struck, so do thesechildren "ask for help, " ask for "new materials, " new "forms of work, "as soon as they have accomplished their mysterious phenomena ofinternal maturation, and ask for them _determinately_, indicating_their most immediate need_, just as one in physical want would beable to state distinctly whether he were hungry, thirsty, or sleepy. Achild, in like manner, asks for reading, or grammatical exercises, ormeans for observing Nature. His sensibility manifests itself in alucid and intense desire, to which the teacher has only to respond. It is evident that some _external_ basis is necessary in theprogressive development of such phenomena, and that the teacher, whois to respond to the requests of the child in conscious evolution, cannot do so adequately by haphazard means; he must be guided byconditions previously determined by experience. In other words, thoseexternal means already alluded to several times, that _staircase_, thesteps of which lead the soul upwards, must have been already_established by experience_, just as all the preceding means of thefirst development of the infant were established. The construction of the ascending stairway, of the external means ofsupport for the soul in process of evolution, is gradually amplified, like an inverted cone, the apex of which touches the very beginningsof psychical life, resting upon that primitive impulse which attractsthe child of two and a half to the sensory stimuli, just as hungerleads the new-born infant to perform the wonderful complex action ofsucking. And as these external means multiply, they are complicatedmore and more by the growing psychical needs of the child, andcomprise within themselves the principles of culture. The highest external organization is not based solely uponpsychological necessities, but also upon those factors which take intoaccount the cultural aspect itself. Each subject of study, as, forinstance, arithmetic, grammar, geometry, natural science, music, literature, should be presented by means of external objects upon awell-defined systematic plan. The essentially psychological characterof the preliminary work must now be supplemented by the collaborationof specialists in each subject, in order to ensure the establishmentof that aggregate of means necessary and sufficient to incite toauto-education. This is the experimental preparatory work, which establishes thosemeans of development, those external _impressions_, necessary tounfold the inner life, and an _exact_ correspondence to the psychicalneeds of _formation_ is essential in their construction. Up to a certain point, they might correspond with the so-calleddidactic or objective material of the old methods. Their significance, however, is profoundly different. The objective material of the oldschools was an aid to the teacher, in making his explanationscomprehensible to a collective class listening passively to him. Theobjects were related solely _to the things to be explained_, and thesewere chosen at random, that is to say, without any scientificcriterion of their relation to the psychical needs of the child. Here, on the other hand, _the means of development_ are experimentallydetermined with reference to the psychical evolution of the child; andtheir aim is not to give mere instruction; they represent the meanswhich induce a spontaneous interpretation of the internal energies. The external material is then offered, and _left freely_ to thenatural individual energies of the children. They choose the objectsthey prefer; and such preference is dictated by the internal needs of"psychical growth. " Each child occupies himself with each objectchosen for as long as he wishes; and this desire corresponds to theneeds of the intimate maturation of the spirit, a process whichdemands persevering and prolonged exercise. No guide, no teacher candivine the intimate need of each pupil, and the time of maturationnecessary to each; but only leave the child _free_, and all this willbe revealed to us under the guidance of nature. * * * * * =Psychical truths=. --It is necessary to adopt a scientific point of viewin order to interpret the facts that reveal themselves in childrenwhen they are developed upon this system, and to divest oneselfcompletely of the old scholastic conception according to which theprogress of the child is assessed according to his proficiency in thevarious subjects of study. Here, almost like the naturalist, it isessential to observe the development of certain phenomena of life. Itis true that we prepare special "external conditions"; but thepsychical effects are directly bound up with the spontaneousdevelopment of the internal activity of the child. Hence there is no direct correspondence between teacher and child;instruction is certainly not a cause of the effects observed. It isthe objects of the method which, as "re-agents, " provoke specialpsychical reactions; these may be summed up as an awakening, as anorganization of the personality. Discipline, as the first result of anorder establishing itself within, is the principal phenomenon to belooked for as the "external sign" of an internal process that has beeninitiated. During the first days when a new school is opened, we may consider acertain initial disorder as characteristic, especially if the teacheris making her first experiment, and consequently is handicapped by herover-sanguine expectations. The immediate response of the child to thematerial does not take place; the teacher is perhaps discomfited bythe fact that the children do not throw themselves, as she had hoped, upon the objects, choosing them according to their individual taste. If, indeed, the pupils are very poor children, this phenomenon doesnearly always happen at once; but if they are well-to-do children, already sated by the variety of their possessions, and by the mostcostly toys, they are very rarely attracted at first by the stimulipresented to them. This naturally leads to disorder when the mistressmakes a kind of chain of that "liberty" she is to respect, and a dogmaof the correlation existing between the stimulus and the childishsoul. Experienced teachers, on the other hand, understand better that_liberty_ begins when the _life_ that must be developed in the childis initiated, and they possess a tact which greatly facilitatesorientation in the initial period. However, an experience under the most difficult conditions, as betweena teacher making her first experiment, and a class of wealthychildren, is more instructive, and gives us a clearer picture of thefundamental psychical phenomenon, which may be compared to the orderwhich springs up out of chaos. I quote, in this connection, various descriptions, some of whichalready have been published, among them that given by Miss George, ofher first school in the United States, and that of Mlle. Dufresne inEngland. The initial disorder is eloquently set forth by Miss George: "They(the children) at first snatched the objects out of each other'shands; if I tried to show an object to any particular pupil, theothers dropped what they themselves were holding and gatheredaimlessly and noisily round us. When I had finished explaining thenature of an object, all the children snatched at it and quarreled forits possession. The children showed no interest in the material: theypassed from one object to another without persevering in the use ofany.... One of the children was so incapable of keeping still that hecould not remain seated long enough to run his fingers round one ofthe little circular objects we give the children. In many cases, themovements of the children were quite aimless, they ran round the roomwithout any apparent object. During these movements, they made noattempt to respect the objects about them; indeed, they stumbledagainst the table, upset the chairs and stepped upon the material;sometimes they began an occupation at one spot, and then ran off inanother direction; they took up the objects and cast them asidecapriciously. " Miss Dufresne describes the initial disorder of her first attempt asfollows: "I must confess that the first four weeks were disheartening;the children could not settle to a task for more than a few moments;they showed no perseverance, no initiative; at times they followed oneanother like a flock of lambs; when one child took up an object, allthe others wanted to imitate him, sometimes they rolled on the floorand overturned the chairs. " From an experiment with rich children here in Rome, we get thefollowing laconic description: "The greatest difficulty was thequestion of discipline. The children showed a complete lack ofattraction to their work, and seemed disinclined to begin upon it. " These persons, who were all working independently, are all agreedlater in their accounts of the initiation of order: the phenomenon isidentical; at a given moment, a child begins to show an intenseinterest in one of the exercises. It is by no means necessary that itshould be that exercise pertaining to the object determined as thefirst series; it may be any other object that fixes the attention ofthe child so deeply; the important factor is not the external object, but the internal action of the soul, responding to a stimulus, andarrested by it. Now when a child once shows this deep interest in any one of theobjects we present to him as something answering to his psychicalneeds, he goes on to show a like interest in all the objects, andbegins to develop activities as by a natural phenomenon. When once theinitiation has taken place, it leads to progression which goes onsteadily, and develops of its own accord. Moreover, the phenomenon isnot that of the slow and gradual progression that might be produced bya measured and systematic external action; rather it has the"explosive" character of unsuspected facts that establish themselvessuddenly, and make us think of the crises of physiological life, socharacteristic in the period of growth. Thus it is from one day toanother that the baby cuts a tooth, from one day to another that heutters his first word, from one day to another that he takes his firststep; and when the first tooth has been cut, the whole set of teethwill come; when the first word has been uttered, language will bedeveloped; when the first step has been taken, the power of walkinghas been established once for all. Similar crises occur in the first achievement of psychic order, whichis the beginning of progressive evolution in the inner life. I quote the following sentences from Miss George's description of theadvent of discipline: "In a few days that nebulous mass of whirling particles--the disorderly children--began to take definite form. The children seemed to begin to find their own way; in many of the objects they had at first despised as silly playthings, they began to discover a novel interest, and, as a result of this new interest, they began to act as independent individuals. " Miss George's subsequent expression is: "They became extremely individual. " "Thus it came to pass that an object of absorbing interest to one child had not the slightest attraction for another; the children were strongly differentiated in their manifestations of attention.... " "The battle is only definitively won, when the child discovers some particular object which spontaneously excites great interest in him. Sometimes this enthusiasm awakens unexpectedly, or with curious rapidity. " "On one occasion I had tried a child with nearly all the objects of the series without exciting the smallest spark of interest; then I casually showed him the two tablets of red and blue colors, and called his attention to the difference of tint. He seized them at once with a kind of thirstiness, and learned five different colors in a single lesson; during the following days he took nearly all the objects of the series which he had at first despised, and little by little mastered them all. "A child who at first had very little power of concentrating his attention, found an outlet from this state of chaos by means of one of the most complex objects of the material, the so-called length-rods; he played with these continually for a whole week and learned to count and make simple additions. He then began to turn to the cylinders and the insets, the simpler objects, and showed interest in every part of the system. "Directly the children find their objects interesting, their disorderliness disappears at once; their mental restlessness is at an end, and they amuse themselves with the blocks, the colors, etc. " It is very interesting to follow Miss George again in her descriptionof the special qualities that develop after such a phenomenon. Sheillustrates the birth of individuality by a pretty anecdote: "There were two sisters, one of three years old, the other of five. The child of three could hardly be said to exist as an individual, so minutely did she imitate her elder sister; for example, the elder child had a blue pencil and the little one was not happy till she too had a blue pencil; when the elder sister ate bread and butter, whatever the little one had of a different kind, she would touch nothing but bread and butter, and so on. This child took no interest in anything in the school, but merely followed her sister, imitating everything she did. One day the little one became interested in the pink cubes, built up the tower with the liveliest interest, repeated the exercise several times, and completely forgot her sister. The older girl was so astonished at this, that she called her little sister and said to her: 'How is it that while I am filling in a circle you are building the tower?' From that day the younger child became a personality; she began to develop independently, and was no longer merely the shadow or reflection of her sister. " These interesting facts concerning the spontaneous development ofqualities which hitherto were non-existent in the individual, andwhich exploded _after_ the fundamental phenomenon--of intense andprolonged interest in a task--had manifested itself, have beenconfirmed by repeated experiments in a great variety of places made bypersons who had had no sort of communication one with another. Thus, for instance, Miss Dufresne speaks of a little girl of fouryears old, who seemed quite incapable of carrying a glass of watereven only half full, without spilling it; so much so that she turnedaway from such a task, knowing she could not accomplish it. One dayshe became absorbed in work with one or other of the objects, andafter this, she began to carry glasses of water with the greatestease; and as some of her companions were now painting withwater-colors, it became her great delight to carry water to them allwithout spilling a single drop. Another most significant fact is related by Miss Barton, an Australianteacher. Among her pupils was a little girl who had not yet developedarticulate speech, and only gave utterance to inarticulate sounds; herparents had had her examined by a doctor to find out if she werenormal; the doctor declared the child to be perfectly normal, andconsidered that though she had not as yet developed speech, she woulddo so in time. This child became interested in the solid insets, andamused herself for a long time taking the cylinders out of thecavities and putting them back in their places; and after repeatingthe work with intense interest, she ran to the teacher, saying: "Comeand see!" A phenomenon of constant occurrence when the children begin to beinterested in the work and to develop themselves is the lively joywhich seems to possess them. Certain psychologists would say, it isthe "sentimental note" corresponding to the intellectual acquisition;a physiologist, making an exact comparison, might affirm that joy isthe indication of internal growth, just as an increase in weight isthe indication of bodily growth. The children themselves seem to have the "sensation" of theirspiritual growth, a consciousness of the acquisitions they are makingby thus amplifying their own personalities; they demonstrate withjoyous effusion the higher process which is beginning within them. "All the children, " says Miss George, "show that pride we ourselvesexperience when we have really produced something novel. They skipround me, and throw their arms about my neck, when they have learnedto do some simple thing, saying: 'I did it all alone, you did notthink I could have done that; I did it better to-day than yesterday, '" It is after these manifestations that a true discipline isestablished, the most obvious results of which are closely related towhat we will call "respect for the work of others and considerationfor the rights of others. " Henceforward a child no longer attempts totake away another's work; even if he covet it, he waits patientlyuntil the object is free; and very often a child becomes interested inwatching a companion at work on some object he would like to usehimself. Afterwards, when discipline has been established by theseinternal processes, it will happen all at once that a child will workquite independently of the others, almost as if to develop his ownpersonality; but no "moral isolation" results from such work; on thecontrary, there is a mutual respect and affection between thechildren, a sentiment which unites instead of separating; and hence isborn that complex discipline which, moreover, contains within itselfthe sentiment that must accompany the order of a community. Miss Dufresne says: "After the Christmas holidays, when school beganagain, there was a great change in the class. It seemed thatdiscipline was establishing itself, without any effort on my part. Thechildren appeared to be too much absorbed in their work to indulge inany of the disorderly actions which had marked their conduct in thebeginning. They went spontaneously to the cupboards to choose theobjects which had bored them formerly. They took the geometricalinsets, the graduated cylinders, and began to touch the outlines ofthe wooden forms with their fingers; the younger children showed apreference for the buttoning and lacing frames; they took one afterthe other without any signs of fatigue, and seemed delighted with thenew objects. An atmosphere of industry pervaded the schoolroom. Thechildren who had hitherto chosen objects on the impulse of the moment, henceforth manifested a desire for some sort of rule, a personal andinternal rule; they concentrated their efforts on their task, workingaccurately and methodically, and showing real satisfaction insurmounting difficulties. This precision in work produced an immediateeffect on their characters. They became capable of controlling theirnerves. " The instance which struck Miss Dufresne most was that of a little boyof four and a half, who at first had seemed very nervous and excitableand had disturbed the whole class: "The imagination of this child hadbeen developed in an extraordinary manner, so that when an object wasgiven to him, he took no notice of the actual form of the object, butpersonified it, and further personified himself, talking perpetually, pretending to be some one else, and seeming incapable of fixing hisattention upon the objects. While his mind was in this chaotic statehe was unable to perform any precise action; he could not, forinstance, button a single button.... All at once a miracle seemed totake place within him. I noted the great change in him withastonishment. He took one of the exercises as his favorite task, thenwent on to choose all the others in succession, and thus calmed hisnerves. " I will choose from various individual studies made by two mistressesof a Children's House at Rome for well-to-do children, those of twochildren of very different characters. One of these children came tothe school too late, when he was too old, and had already developed inanother environment. The other is a little creature of the normal agefor entrance to the Children's Houses. The older child (a boy of five)had already been to a Froebelian Kindergarten, where he was consideredvery troublesome because of his restlessness. "For the first few dayshe was a torment to us, because he wanted to work, but could notsettle to any occupation. He said of everything: 'This is a game, ' andran about the class-room, or annoyed his companions. At last he beganto take an interest in drawing. " Although normally drawing comes_after_ the sensory exercises, he was left at liberty to do what hewished; the teachers rightly thought that it would be useless toinsist that the child should apply himself to a different task. Indeed, this child, having passed the age when the primary materialsanswer to the psychical needs of childhood, was for the first timeattracted by an exercise of a higher order, that of drawing. "Whereasat first the child had passed from one occupation to another, and hadeven taken up the letters of the alphabet, but had never settled towork with any one of the objects, now suddenly discipline wasestablished. We do not know exactly at what moment the change tookplace, but discipline was maintained and perfected, and reached ahigher level in proportion to the growing interest of the child inevery kind of occupation. Interest having been primarily aroused bydrawing, the child spontaneously went on to the rods used in theteaching of length, then to placing the plane geometric insets, and sogradually worked through all the earlier sensory stimuli which theteacher had passed over. " Thus we see that the older child chooses theobjects in inverse order, proceeding almost methodically from the mostdifficult to the elementary. The other child of three was also quite undisciplined. The teacherswere beginning to despair of producing order in this case, when thechild began to take an interest in the solid insets and in one of theframes. Thereupon he worked steadily and ceased to disturb hiscompanions. * * * * * In our "Children's Houses" for poor children in Rome, directed bySignorina Maccheroni, it was possible to make more methodicalobservations, and these were represented by diagrams, in order todemonstrate the course of the phenomena more clearly. The transverse line A B represents the quiescent state; the phenomenaof order (work) are represented above; those of disorder below. When achild has become calm after the first strong attraction to a task, apermanent state of order may be established in him. At this stage theconditions most favorable to work may be studied. PRIMITIVE CURVE OF ORDERED WORK This is the manner in which it develops; individual type of a morningof disciplined work. [Illustration: Primitive Curve of Ordered Work] The child keeps still for a while, and then chooses some task he findseasy, such as arranging the colors in gradation; he continues workingat this for a time, but not for very long; he passes on to some morecomplicated task, such as that of composing words with the movableletters, and perseveres with this for a long time (about half anhour). At this stage he ceases working, walks about the room, andappears less calm; to a superficial observer he would seem to showsigns of fatigue. But after a few minutes he undertakes some much moredifficult work, and becomes so deeply absorbed in this, that he showsus he has reached the acme of his activity (additions and writing downthe results). When this work is finished, his activity comes to an endin all serenity; he contemplates his handiwork for a long time, thenapproaches the teacher, and begins to confide in her. The appearance of the child is that of a person who is rested, satisfied, and uplifted. The apparent fatigue of the child between the first and second periodof work is interesting; at that moment the aspect of the child is notcalm and happy as at the end of the curve; indeed, he shows signs ofagitation, moves about, and walks, but does not disturb the others. Itmay be said that he is in search of the maximum satisfaction for hisinterest, and is preparing for his "great work. " But, on the other hand, when _the cycle is completed_, the childdetaches himself from his internal concentration; refreshed andsatisfied, he experiences the higher social impulses, such as desiringto make confidences and to hold intimate communion with other souls. A similar process became in time the general process in a class ofdisciplined children. Signorina Maccheroni sums up this complexphenomenon as follows: [Illustration: Whole Class at Work] In the first period of the morning, up to about 10 a. M. , theoccupation chosen is generally an easy and familiar task. At 10 o'clock there is a great commotion; the children are restless, they neither work nor go in quest of materials. The onlooker gets animpression of a _tired_ class, about to become disorderly. After a fewminutes the most perfect order reigns once more; the children arepromptly absorbed in work again; they have chosen new and moredifficult occupations. When this work ceases, the children are gentle, calm, and happy. If in the period of "false fatigue" at 10 a. M. An inexperiencedteacher, interpreting the phenomenon of suspension or preparation forthe culminating work as disorder, intervenes, calling the children toher, and making them rest, etc. , their restlessness persists, and thesubsequent work is not undertaken. The children do not become calm:they remain in an abnormal state. In other words, if they areinterrupted in their cycle, they lose all the characteristicsconnected with _an internal process regularly and completely carriedout_. * * * * * The single curve of individual orderly work is not general, norstrictly constant in the type described. But it may be considered asthe average type of work in the level of order achieved. It will beinteresting, first of all, to consider the curve of children in whom_order has not yet been established_. Poor children hardly ever showthemselves to be in such a state of utter confusion as rich ones; theyare _always_ more or less attracted by the objects, and respond tothem with a certain interest from the very first moment. Suchinterest, however, is at first superficial. They are attracted mainlyby curiosity, by a desire to handle "pretty things. " They amusethemselves for some time, it is true, with single objects, changingand selecting them, but without developing any deep interest. Thecharacteristic of this period, which may be altogether lacking in aclass of well-to-do children, is that of _alternations of disorder_. The following diagram represents this period. INDIVIDUAL DIFFERENCES STAGE PRECEDING THE EVOLUTION OF ORDER [Illustration: _Individual curve of a poor child_] The various curves of work are to be found below the line ofquiescence, in state of disorder. It was only when the children werecalled to order collectively that this child was still, unless it wasrising towards work; in this case, however, it did not persevere, andthe curve drops suddenly below. It should be noted that in theirregular course of this diagram we may trace a period of easy workpreceding a period of difficult work (frame, plane insets) and betweenthese two the maximum decline into disorder. CURVE OF WORK OF A VERY POOR CHILD, ALMOST ENTIRELYNEGLECTED BY ITS PARENTS, AND VERYTURBULENT [Illustration: _Period of Disorder_] The child in question (O) seemed to have a tendency to learn fromothers; he ran away from work or was attracted by it only for a briefmoment; and seemed incapable of receiving direct teaching. If anyattempt was made to teach him something, he grimaced and ran away. Hewandered about, disturbing his companions, and seemed quiteintractable; but he listened attentively to the lessons the teachergave to the other children. [Illustration: _Advance towards Order_] When he began to work, after having learned how to do so, hepersevered, and the normal process is apparent in the diagram; that isto say, preliminary work, a pause (during which the child relapsedslightly and momentarily into his habit of disturbing his companions), then the curve of great application, and of final repose (duringwhich, however, he again relapsed into his characteristic defect). Thesummits of the diagram show not only interest in the work, but amarked kindliness; the child was not only calm, but seemed full ofbeatitude and gentleness; when at the height of his labors hefrequently looked round at his companions, and blew little kisses tothem on his fingers, but without relaxing his attention. It seemed asif a fount of love were gushing up from the fulness of his internalsatisfaction, from the depths of a soul that had appeared at first sorough and uncouth. [Illustration: CURVE OF WORK OF A WEAKLY CHILD] The diagram is made up of curves that fall upon the line ofquiescence; unity of curve is lacking, hence unity of effort. Theculminating point of work is reached after a preliminary task of aneasier kind; and the supreme task (color) is briefly resumed, afterthe great impetus has been exhausted. The phase of rest is not clearlydefined; the child turns to a very easy task (solid insets). A certainfeebleness of character seems to manifest itself in the half-heartedmental processes. The child makes many successive efforts to rise; buthe can neither make the decisive, vigorous effort, nor come to adefinite decision to cease working. The child is calm, but his stateof calm has no variations; he is neither lively, nor serene, nor doeshe show strong affectionate impulses. COURSE OF PROGRESS When the whole class is disciplined, the course of development of theinternal activities may be observed. It must be remembered that the material of development affordsgraduated exercises passing from the most rudimentary sensoryexercises to exercises in writing, calculating, and reading. Thechildren are free to choose the exercises they prefer; but of course, as the teacher initiates them in each exercise, they only choose theobjects they know how to use. The teacher, observing them, sees whenthe child is sufficiently matured for more advanced exercises, andintroduces them to him, or perhaps the child begins them for himself, after watching other children more advanced. We must bear such conditions in mind in order to follow "progress" inwork. [Illustration: Course of Progress] The two curves represent stages of greatest development as comparedwith the primary curve of orderly work. The stage of unrest betweenthe easy and the more difficult work tends to disappear; the childseems more _sure of himself_; he goes more directly and readily to thechoice of his culminating exercise. Consequently, two successive phases of uninterrupted work are left;one may be called the _phase of preparation_, the other the _phase ofserious work_. The phase of preparation lasts a very short time, the_serious work_ is of much longer duration; it is noteworthy that theperiod of _rest_, with its characteristic air of _comfort_ and_serenity_, sets in after the _maximum effort has spontaneously spentitself_. On the other hand, it happens invariably that any externalinterruption of the effort causes the child to show signs of fatigue(restlessness), or to become inattentive. In the first curve, the initial work consists of two easy tasks, carried on for a short time, and from these the child passes directlyto the serious work. The finale is a spell of rest full of thought;the child ceases to work, but contemplates his finished task for along time in silence; before preparing to put it away, or, afterhaving contemplated his own work, he goes quietly to watch that of theothers. In the second curve there is a very noticeable parallelism with theline of repose; the child pursues his labors almost uniformly, and thesole difference between the initial work and the serious work is intheir different duration. The contemplative period becomes henceforthan obvious "period of internal work, " almost a period of"assimilation" or "internal maturation. " Observation of the work ofothers becomes increasingly frequent, as if it were a spontaneous"comparative" study between the child himself and his companions; oras if an active interest in the contemplation of the externalsurroundings were developing: the period of discovery. We may say that_the child studies himself in his own productions and puts himselfinto communion with his companions and his environment_. At this stage the completion of an entire cycle will exercise aninfluence more and more far-reaching on the personality of the child. Not only is he spurred on to a work of intimate concentrationimmediately after his culminating effort; he preserves a permanentattitude of thought, of internal equilibrium, of sustained interest inhis environment. He becomes a personality who has reached a higherdegree of evolution. This is the period when the child begins to be"master of himself" and enters upon that characteristic phenomenon Ihave called the "phenomenon of obedience. " He _can obey_, that is, hecan control his actions, and therefore can direct them in accordancewith the desires of another person. He can break off a piece of workwhen interrupted, without becoming disorderly or showing symptoms offatigue. Moreover, work has become his habitual attitude, and thechild can no longer bear to be idle. When, for instance, we call someof the children who are in this stage to the lessons for teachers, inwhich they are to serve as the "subjects of study, " they lendthemselves with ready docility to that which we ask of them, theysubmit to the measurements of height, heads, etc. , and they performthe exercises we suggest, responding always with _interest_, and notmerely with resignation, as if they were conscious of collaboratingwith us. But when they have to _wait_, seated on one side till theyare called forward, they cannot sit idle; they work at something. Inactivity has become intolerable to them. Very often, while I amgiving the lesson, the children take the lacing or tying frames, orcover the floor with words made with the movable letters; and wherethis is feasible, some of the children will draw or paint in thesemoments of waiting. All these things have now become expressions of intelligent activity, which form part of their psychical organism. But to ensure the continuance of this attitude and of the developmentof personality it is essential that _some real task_ should beperformed each day; for it is from the completed cycle of an activity, from methodical concentration, that the child develops equilibrium, elasticity, adaptability, and the resulting power to perform thehigher actions, such as those which are termed acts of obedience. Thismakes one think of the method prescribed by the Catholic religion forthe preservation of the forces of spiritual life: that is, a period of"spiritual concentration, " which opens up the possibility of acquiring"moral powers. " It is from methodical "meditation" that moralpersonality must draw its powers of solidification, without which the"inner man, " incoherent and unbalanced, fails to possess itself anddispose of itself for noble ends. Children have always need of the period of concentration, and seriouswork from which they derive the capacity for final development. The following diagram represents a very lofty stage of childishdevelopment: [Illustration: SUPERIOR STAGE _Average type_] Even the preparatory work is now of a higher kind: as soon as thechild comes into school, he will choose, for instance, the letters ofthe alphabet, or will write, then (his strenuous work) he will read. For recreation he will choose an intelligent pastime, such as lookingat illustrated books. All his intellectual occupations are of a higher order, as are alsohis moral attributes (obedience, serenity, perseverance). Taking the line of quiescence as a level of development, it followsthat the level has become higher. [Illustration: _Line of work_] In a superior stage, the line of work tends to become straight, parallel to the line of quiescence. Meanwhile it has been established that it is possible to determine_degrees of development_, or _averages_ of internal development, bymeans of which individual variations may be studied. In the primordialtype the characteristics are _disorderly conduct_, and _incapacity toconcentrate attention_; in such a case there is no real line of work, and the main part of the diagram remains below the line of quiescence. For the type in which the phenomenon of permanent concentration ofattention on a task has manifested itself, the average characteristicdiagram of normal orderly work of the first degree is now established:_i. E. Preliminary_ work followed by a period of restlessness, andthen _strenuous work_ followed by a state of repose. Afterwards we distinguish a second degree, where the average ischaracterized by the disappearance of the period of unrest, and thestrenuous work is brought to a close in contemplation; this is thestage of discoveries, of generalized observation, of obedience; workhas become a habit. This is followed by a general elevation, to be recognized by thechoice of higher preliminary work; disciplined behavior has become ahabit. During this progression the diagram of work tends to become straight, and parallel to the line of quiescence. [Illustrations: A RECAPITULATORY TABLE OF DEVELOPMENT_Diagrams of average developments_] The rise in the level of the plane is related to the qualities of moreadvanced intellectual work; and the straightening of the line isrelated to qualities of internal _construction_ and of the_organization of the personality_; qualities which would be consideredof a _moral order_, such as serenity, discipline, self-mastery asmanifested in obedience and in the various activities of the child. When work has become a habit, the intellectual level rises rapidly, and organized order causes good conduct to become a _habit_. Childrenthen work with order, perseverance, and discipline, persistently andnaturally; the permanent, calm, and vivifying work of the physicalorganism resembles the respiratory rhythm. The pivot, the medium of this construction of the personality, isworking in freedom, in accordance with the natural wants of the innerlife; thus _freedom in intellectual work_ is found to be the _basis ofinternal discipline_. The great achievement of the "Children'sHouses" (_Case dei Bambini_) is to produce _disciplined children_. It is this internal organization which gives them a special "type, " orcharacter, the type or character _required_ to continue the freeexercise of activities for the _conquests of culture_ in successivestages. The elementary school period presents itself insensibly as acontinuation of the "Children's Houses. " In these, _behavior is ahabit_ superposed on and fused with the earlier _habit of work_. Henceforth it will be sufficient to present the material of furtherculture, and the child, gradually exercising himself upon it, willpass from one intellectual stage of culture to another. The difference shown in the successive ages arises from anintellectual interest which is no longer merely the impulse toexercise oneself by repetition of the exercises, but is a higherinterest directed to the work itself, and tending to complete anexternal work, or to complete a branch of knowledge as a whole. Thusthe child creates and seeks for things organized in themselves; forinstance, he desires to compose a design by means of combinations ofgeometrical figures with the metal insets, and devotes himself to thiswork with the greatest intensity until he has completed it. Again, wesee a child occupied for seven or eight consecutive days with the samework. Another child becomes interested in the potentialities ofnumbers or in the arithmetical frame, and perseveres with the samework for days, until his knowledge of it has matured. Upon a basis of interior order produced by internal organization, themind then builds up its castle with the same leisurely calm with whicha living organism grows spontaneously after birth. We can give but a primary idea at present of the _practicalpossibility_ of determining _average levels_ of interior developmentaccording to age. We shall further require many perfect experiments, in which homogeneous children, completely suitable environment, andtrained teachers will afford adequate material for observation. Thenstudents will be able to undertake a scientific work, which willperhaps be characterized by a precision superior even to that withwhich it is at present possible to measure the body, and give themathematical averages of growth. We must consider, however, that the indications available to-dayrepresent a long, systematic toil, and that they rest upon the stillgreater labor of finding external material means for naturaldevelopment. This will give some idea of the difficulty of scientific researches, which many still believe it possible to make by means of arbitrary andsuperficial tests such as those of Binet and Simon! * * * * * The study of the child cannot be accomplished by an "instantaneous"process; his characteristics can only be illustrated cinematographically. "External means, " organized in accordance with the needs of psychicallife, are of fundamental importance; for how is it possible to judgeof individual differences in the acquisition of internal order, in theascent to abstraction, in the progressive stages of intellectualdevelopment, in the achievement of discipline, without the existenceof pre-determined and unvarying external means which, like so manypoints of support, lead the child in process of formation towards hisgoal? In order to determine _individual differences_ logically, there mustbe a _constant work or aim_; and this is the external means on whicheach personality builds itself up. When the external support is thesame, and corresponds in general to the psychical needs of a givenage, a difference of internal construction is _due to the individualhimself_. On the other hand, if the means were different, thevariations in reaction might be attributed to differences in themeans. Finally, it is obvious that in all scientific research, the_instrument of measurement_ must be fixed. But each _thing to bemeasured_ requires a special instrument, and the constant instrumentin psychical measurement should be "the method of education. " A series of formulae, such as the Binet-Simon tests, can neithermeasure anything, nor give even an approximate idea of intellectuallevels of intelligence according to age; as to the children whorespond, whence is their response derived? How far is this due to theintrinsic activity of the individual, and how far to the action ofenvironment? And if the portion due to environment be ignored, who candetermine what intrinsic psychical value should be given to theresponse? In each personality we must recognize two parts: one is theindividual, natural, spontaneous activity by means of which elementsmay be taken from the environment wherewith the personality may beelaborated internally, constructed and augmented, and hence_characterized_; another part is the external instrument with whichall this may be done. For instance, a child who at the age of four canrecognize sixty-four colors, shows that he possesses remarkableactivity in the perception of colors, and in the arrangement of themin gradation in his mind, etc. ; but he also shows that he has had themeans to accomplish this achievement; he has had, for instance, sixty-four color-tablets, with which he has been able to practise athis leisure and undisturbed, as long as was necessary for suchassimilation. The psychical factor P is the sum of two factors, one internal, theother external: P = I + E of these the unknown, non-directly measurable factor I may beindicated by X: P = X + E If we were to compare two children, one of whom has had at hisdisposal the sixty-four colors in the conditions described above, andanother who has been left to himself in poor surroundings, where grayand brown tints prevail, and who seems dull and unobservant, etc. , weshould find a very remarkable psychical difference. Such a differenceis not, however, intrinsic; it might well be that, subjected to thesame conditions as the first child, the second would recognize thesixty-four colors. The judgment we should give in such a case would bebased upon an external factor, not upon internal potentialities. Weshould really be appraising two different environments, not twodifferent individuals. To enable us to judge of individual differences, it would be necessaryfor the two children to have had _the same means of development_. Inthis case, if at the same age they were not equally capable ofdistinguishing the sixty-four colors, but if, for instance, one of thetwo could recognize only thirty of these, a true individual psychicaldifference would be apparent. One of the tests proposed by one of thegreatest authorities on experimental psychology in Italy, to determinethe intellectual level of sub-normal (backward or deficient)children, was to make a child pick out the largest and the smallestcube in a series. This choice, in common with nearly all the testsproposed for the same purpose, we considered quite independently ofthe influence of _culture_ and _education_; and it was appreciated asthe expression of an intimate, personal activity of the intelligenceitself. But if one of the deficient children I had educated on mymethod had been subjected to the test, he would, in virtue of a longsensory training, have chosen the largest and the smallest cube verymuch more easily than the children selected by the psychologist fromhis special schools; and my deficient child might even have been notonly younger, but even more backward intellectually than the other. The test would therefore have measured the different methods ofeducation, whereas the psychical differences between the two children, really existent by reason of age or of intellectual attainment, wouldhave remained absolutely obscure. Man is a fusion of personality and education, and education includesthe series of experiences he undergoes during his life. The two thingscannot be separated in the individual: intelligence withoutacquirement is an abstraction. That which holds good of all livingbeings: that the individual cannot be divorced from his environment, is more profoundly true in its application to psychical life, becausethe content of environment, constituting the means of auto-experiencewhich evolves man, is an essential part of him, and, indeed, is theindividual himself. Nevertheless, we all know that the psychicalindividual is not his environment, but a life in himself. Given the formula P = X + E in which X is the internal and intrinsic part peculiar to theindividual life, it may be said that every individual has his X. Butin order to _approach_ to direct knowledge of X, it is essential toknow P and E. He who carries out an examination, or supposes himself to beperforming a "psychical measurement" by dwelling on psychical results, is in reality measuring a mixture of two unknown quantities, one ofwhich, being external to the individual, nullifies the results ofresearch. Hence, to study individual differences in isolated activities, such asthe perception of colors, musical sounds, the letters of the alphabet;or the capacity for observation of surroundings and the detection oferrors; or coordination of movements, language, etc. , it is essentialto have first determined a _constant_ element: the means ofdevelopment offered by environment. Here a simple and clearly defined difference between pedagogy andpsychology manifests itself: pedagogy determines experimentally themeans of development and the method of applying them while respectingthe internal or personal liberty of the individual; psychology studiesaverage reactions or individual reactions in the species or theindividual. But the two things are two aspects of a single fact, whichis the development of man; the individual and the environment are thetwo factors X and E of the same product: the psychical entity. Isolated psychical researches of a moral order must also, if they areto be of any real value, be based upon prolonged observation, _afterthe internal activities have become orderly_; because it is easy tomake errors of judgment in a chaos. In clinical psychiatry or incriminal pathology, when we speak of "keeping a subject underobservation" for purposes of diagnosis, we mean placing him inspecial surroundings, under hygienic and disciplinary conditions, etc. , and observing him for some time in such an environment. Such aprocess has a value still more extensive and profound in the case ofnormal individuals in process of evolution. In such a case it isnecessary not only to offer orderly external surroundings, but toreduce the chaotic internal world of the child to order, and, afterthis, to observe him for a considerable time. We may offer as an illustration the following observations made upontwo of the most interesting children who attended our schools. Theywere admitted into the training school for teachers during my lastInternational Course in Rome. ASPECTS OF THE TWO CHILDREN _During the period they were retained as subjects for anthropologicalobservation in the class-room for teachers_ There was a considerable clamor among the students; some were talking, some laughing. In the center of the room stood a pedometer. Thebehavior of the two children was almost identical. They were sittingapart quietly, working at the lacing frames which they had gonespontaneously to fetch from a neighboring room; they did not look upat the noise, nor join in the laughter. Their attitude was that ofpersons at work and anxious not to lose any time. When invited by asingle gesture to come and be measured, they obeyed in a wonderfulmanner, leaving off work at once, and moving with smiles, as iffascinated; they evidently felt pleasure in obeying, and an internaldelight which came from the consciousness of being able to work, andof being ready to leave something that they liked doing, at a summonsto something of a higher order. They arranged themselves verycarefully on the pedometer to be measured; when any modification wasnecessary in the position of the body, it sufficed to murmur a word intheir ears and the almost imperceptible movement required was madewith the utmost exactitude; they could control their voluntarymovements and direct them; they were able to translate the words theyheard into actions: _this enabled them_ to obey, and this constitutedfor them a fascinating internal conquest. When the measuring was over, nothing was said; they waited expectantly for a moment, then gave anintelligent glance and a smile, which was, as it were, their greeting;they had understood, and they returned voluntarily to their corner totake up their frames and resume their work. Presently they were wantedagain, and the same actions were repeated. When we think that children of their age (about four and a half), whenleft to themselves, will roam about, upsetting objects almostunconsciously, and requiring either some one to submit to theircaprices, or to call them roughly to order, we shall recognize theinternal perfection achieved in these two little ones, who havearrived at that stage of development in which work has become a_habit_, and obedience a fascinating acquisition. The anthropometric measurements had shown that one of the children, _O_, was normal in measurement (weight, stature, length of torso) andthe other, _A_, below the normal measurements. Here are some notes made by the teacher on the conduct of these twochildren when they were in the state of disorder, or undisciplined: _O_: violent, turbulent, spiteful to his companions, never applies toanything, but looks on at what the others are doing and theninterrupts them; or listens to the individual lessons given by theteacher with a scornful and cynical expression. The father of thechild says that at home he is violent, overbearing, and intractable. _A_: is quiet. But he has almost a mania for spying on his companions, and pointing out to the teacher every little action that might beconsidered wrong or incorrect. Both of the children are very poor. _O_ is almost entirely neglectedby his family. * * * * * _Later judgment_ the teacher was enabled to form of these two childrenafter they had reduced themselves to order by means of work: _O_: all the turbulence shown by _O_ in his home resolved itself intoa struggle for bread; the father, who was very poor, but alsoneglectful, denied the child bread; the child did not resign himself, did not cry, but struggled constantly, with all the means at hisdisposal, in order to obtain his portion of bread. When the teacherasked the father why he denied the child bread, he replied: "Because, when he has eaten it, he asks for more. " In school, this child ran from group to group, from lesson to lesson, disturbing the others and passing over everything, because he wasstruggling to win his spiritual food after the same fashion. He is a child who has an overpowering will to live: self-preservationseems to be his most strongly developed tendency. When his life was assured, the child became not only gentle, butremarkable for his sweetness and delicacy of feeling. He was the childwho, in his joy when he had learned or completed some task, lookedround lovingly at his companions, and blew little kisses to them fromhis fingers. Whereas for the other children who had entered into thephase of order or discipline, the teacher's note is: "work, " for _O_the note is: "work and kindness. " Before the daily hot meal was instituted, the children used to bringtheir own luncheons, which varied very much; two or three of thechildren were very generously provided, and had meat, fruit, etc. _O_was seated next to one of these. The table was set, and _O_ hadnothing to put upon his plate but the piece of bread he had sostrenuously acquired; he glanced at his neighbor as if to regulatehimself by the time the latter would take over his meal, but with notrace of envy; on the contrary, with great dignity he tried to eat hispiece of bread very slowly, in order that he might not finish beforethe other, and thus make it evident that he had nothing more to eatwhile the other was still busy. He nibbled his bread slowly andseriously. What a sense of his own dignity--subduing the desires of an appetiteexposed to temptation--existed in this child, together with his senseof the fundamental needs of his own life, by which he was impelled tostruggle and to conquer what was "necessary. " And there was furtherthat exquisite sensibility, which manifested itself in theaffectionate expression of his mobile face, and in the effusion of ageneral tenderness which looked for no return. A very remarkable thing was that this child, whom we might haveexpected to find ill-nourished, gave normal anthropologicalmeasurements and weight for his age. Born in poverty and neglect, hehad defended himself; the normality of his body was due to an heroiceffort. _A_: this child was always calm and quiet; he very soon entered uponthe phase of active, ordered, willing and thorough work. He appliedhimself with intense earnestness and perseverance. He would be thetype of the clever, well-behaved child of the ordinary school. Veryoften he came to school without any food. His _goodness_ had a_positive_ character which became a mortal danger to himself; heaccepted mal-nutrition without revolt; he profited greatly by themeans of psychical life that were offered him, but he would never havebeen able to conquer them for himself. His goodness continued to be ofthe same type after as before the period of order; he showed neitheragitation nor expansion. His anthropological measurements, which werebelow the normal, already indicated that he had started on life'spilgrimage with the gait of the victim; he belonged to the company ofthose "who must be saved by others. " The characteristic moral trait was "espionage. " The teacher, whenobserving him, noticed that the child did not work simply like theothers, but came to her very frequently to know if what he was doingwas well or ill done. And this not only during his work with thematerials, but also in reference to every act of a moral nature heaccomplished; his great preoccupation seemed to be to know whether hewas doing right or wrong. Then he endeavored to do right with the mostscrupulous exactitude. With regard to his spying tendencies, theteacher noted the child never showed any animosity towards hiscompanions; he watched them attentively, and then proceeded to say ofthem as he would say of himself: So and so did this; was it right orwrong? The child was then careful to avoid what had been pronounced"wrong" in others. What appeared to be his spying proclivities were, in fact, amanifestation of the problem that dominated his childish conscience:the problem of right and wrong. The limited experience of his own lifedid not suffice him; he wanted to benefit by the experience of all theothers in order to learn what things were right and what were wrong;almost as if the one feeling that absorbed him was the desire to doright and avoid wrong, and as if this were his sole aspiration. Thecase of this child recalls a popular superstition expressed in suchterms as "too good to live. " The child _A_ seemed destined for thefate thus suggested. The needs of the body did not greatly concernhim, and he seemed equally indifferent to those of the mind; goodnesswas the mainspring of his being. If society does not note suchdispositions, and assume the special protection of such frail lives, children of this type go forward to premature death like angels gazingheavenwards. These two accounts, due to Signorina Maccheroni's observation, correcta superficial judgment which, in an ordinary school, would have becomea permanent record of character: the one child would have been brandedas _violent_, the other as a _spy_. If we call that science which led to the translation of these wordsinto _hero_ and _angel_, and touched so many hearts in the vicinity ofthese two children, when they had been interpreted by their wonderfulinstructress, we shall be able to assert that "the judgment of love isthe judgment of knowledge. " The mercy of Christ in judging is hereillustrated. * * * * * "Psychical action, " then, starts from a principle which may betranslated thus: "that the child lives. " All the rest comes as aconsequence. This action of fundamental life manifests itself as a _polarization_of the internal personality: almost at a point of crystallization, around which, provided there be homogeneous material and anundisturbed environment, _the definitive form composes itself_. This initial action is a task _repeated_ with a special intensity ofattention. In my "biographical chart, " therefore, I do not give a long formula ofanalytical studies, but I give a "guide to psychologicalobservations, " founded upon the synthetical conception which I havesought to illustrate. Those who have not been _initiated_ into thismethod of observation will gain no light from such a guide, which liesentirely outside the conceptions of psychological study now obtainingin connection with the observation of pupils. But those who have beeninitiated will understand it without the aid of illustration. Our teachers have also a terminology by means of which they understandeach other, without having recourse to the ordinary expressions, whichdo not convey an exact idea of the action they see in process ofdevelopment. Thus they never say: The child is developing, orprogressing, the child is good or naughty, etc. The only phraseologythey use is: The child _is becoming disciplined_ or _is not becomingdisciplined_. It is internal order that they await; and on thisprinciple of being or not being, all or nothing depends. This evokes a much deeper conception than that of "growth. " To saythat a living creature _grows_ is to make a very superficialstatement, seeing that he grows indeed, _but in virtue of the fact_that, within, an orderly and regular disposition of substances is inprogress. When, for instance, the embryo of an animal is formed, it grows; butany one who has observed it internally must have been struck by a factmuch more marvelous than that of the visible external "growth. " Awonderful internal grouping of the cells takes place; some form, as itwere, a leaf which folds over and makes the intestines, othersseparate to form the nervous system, one group isolates andspecializes itself to make the liver, and thus an organization ofparts, more and more pronounced, together with a minutedifferentiation of each individual arrangement of the cells, iscarried on. The future functions of the body all depend upon thepossibility of the cells so establishing themselves. The important point is, not that the embryo _grows_, but that it_coordinates_. "Growth" comes through and by order, which also makeslife possible. An embryo which grows without coordinating its internalorgans is not vital. Here we have not only the impulse, but themystery of life. The evolution of internal order is the essentialcondition for the realization of vital existence in a life whichpossesses the impulse to exist. Now the sum of the phenomena indicated in the "guide to psychologicalobservation" actually represents the evolution of spiritual _order_ inthe child. * * * * * =Guide to psychological observation=. WORK. --Note when achild begins to occupy himself for any length of time upon a task. What the task is and how long he continues working at it (slowness incompleting it and repetition of the same exercise). His individual peculiarities in applying himself to particular tasks. To what tasks he applies himself during the same day, and with howmuch perseverance. If he has periods of spontaneous industry, and for how many days theseperiods continue. How he manifests a desire to progress. What tasks he chooses in their sequence, working at them steadily. Persistence in a task in spite of stimuli in his environment whichwould tend to distract his attention. If after deliberate interruption he resumes the task from which hisattention was distracted. CONDUCT. --Note the state of order or disorder in the acts of thechild. His disorderly actions. Note if changes of behavior take place during the development of thephenomena of work. Note whether during the establishment of ordered actions there are: crises of joy; intervals of serenity; manifestations of affection. The part the child takes in the development of his companions. OBEDIENCE. --Note if the child responds to the summons when he iscalled. Note if and when the child begins to take part in the work of otherswith an intelligent effort. Note when obedience to a summons becomes regular. Note when obedience to orders becomes established. Note when the child obeys eagerly and joyously. Note the relation of the various phenomena of obedience in theirdegrees (_a_) to the development of work; (_b_) to changes of conduct. IV THE PREPARATION OF THE TEACHER The possibility of observing the developments of the psychical life ofthe child as natural phenomena and experimental reactions transformsthe _school itself in action_ into a kind of scientific laboratory forthe psycho-genetic study of man. It will become--perhaps in the nearfuture--the experimental field _par excellence_ of the psychologist. To prepare such a school as perfectly as possible, is therefore notonly to prepare "a better method for the education of children, " butalso to prepare the materials for a renovated science. Every one nowknows that students of natural science require in their laboratoriesan organization directed to the _preparation_ of the material to beobserved. To observe a simple cell in movement, it is necessary tohave a hollow glass slide with cavity for the hanging drop; to haveready "fresh solutions" in which the living cells may be immersed, toensure their continued vitality; to have ready soils for cultures, etc. For all these ends there are special avocations, those of theso-called "preparers, " who are not the assistants or helpers of theprofessor, but _employés_ who were at one time upper servants, andthen become superior workmen. At the present day they are, however, nearly always themselves scientific graduates. For, indeed, their taskis a most delicate one; they must possess biological, physical, andchemical knowledge, and the more thoroughly they are "prepared" by aculture analogous to that of the masters of research themselves, themore rapid and secure is the march of science. It is strange to think that among all these laboratories of naturalscience, only that of "experimental psychology" has judged it possibleto dispense with an organization for the preparation of the subjectsto be observed. If to-day a psychologist were told to arrange the workof his preparer, he would take this to mean the preparation of his"instruments, " thus adopting more or less the standard of laboratoriesof _physics_. But the idea of preparing the living being which produces thephenomenon would not enter his mind; and yet, if merely to observe acell, a living microbe, the scientist needs a "preparer, " how muchgreater must be the necessity for such an assistant when the subjectto be observed is man! Psychologists consider that they can prepare their "subjects" byarresting their attention with a word, and explaining to them how theyare to proceed in order to respond to the experiment; any unknownperson met by chance in the laboratory will serve their purpose. Inshort, the psychologist of to-day behaves somewhat like the child whocatches a butterfly in flight, observes it for a second and then letsit fly away again; not like the biologist who takes care that hispreparations are properly carried out in a scientific laboratory. On the other hand, the picture of psychological development, eventhough it be incomplete, which is shown to us in our experiments, demonstrates the subtlety with which it is necessary to present to thechild the means of his development and, above all, to respect hisliberty; conditions which are essential to ensure that psychicalphenomena be revealed and may constitute a true "material forobservation"; all this demands a special environment, and thepreparation of a practical staff, forming a whole infinitely superiorin complexity and in organization to the ordinary natural sciencelaboratories. Such a laboratory can only be the most perfect school, organized according to scientific methods, where the teacher is aperson answering to the "preparer" graduate. True, all schools would not achieve this lofty scientific ideal. Butit is indisputable that schools and teachers should all be directingtheir efforts towards the domain of the experimental sciences. Thepsychical salvation of children is based upon the means and theliberty to live, and these should become another of the "naturalrights" accorded to the new generations; established as a social andphilosophic conception, it should supersede the present "obligation toprovide instruction, " which is a burden not only on State economy butalso on the vigor of posterity. If the psychical phenomena of thechildren in the national schools do not tend to enrich psychology, they become ends in themselves, just as the beauty of Nature is an endin itself. The new school, indeed, must not be created for the service of ascience, but for the service of living humanity; and teachers will beable to rejoice in the contemplation of lives unfolding under theireyes, without sharing the spectacle with science, wrapped in a holyegoism which will exalt their spirits as does every intimate contactwith living souls. It is unquestionable that with this method of education thepreparation of the teacher must be made _ex novo_, and that thepersonality and social importance of the instructress will betransformed thereby. Even after the first desultory experiments hitherto made, a new typeof mistress has been evolved; instead of facility in speech, she hasto acquire the power of silence; instead of teaching, she has toobserve; instead of the proud dignity of one who claims to beinfallible, she assumes the vesture of humility. * * * * * This transformation has a parallel in that undergone by the universityprofessor, when the positive sciences began to play their part in theworld. What a difference between the dignified old-world professor, draped in a robe often ermine-trimmed, seated on his high chair as ona throne, and speaking so authoritatively that students were not onlybound to believe all he said, but to swear _in verbo magistri_, andthe professor of to-day, who leaves the high places to the studentsthat they may be able to see, reserving for himself the loweststation, on the bare floor; while the students are all seated, healone stands, often clad in a gray linen blouse like a workman. The students know that they will be on the way to the highest degreeof progress when they are capable of "verifying" the theses of theprofessor--nay, more, of giving a further impetus to science, andinscribing their own names among those quoted as having contributed toits wealth or having discovered new truths. Dignity and hierarchy in these schools have been superseded byinterest in the chemical or physical or natural phenomena to beproduced; and in presence of this all the rest disappears. The wholearrangement of the laboratory is subject to the same purpose; if thephenomenon requires light, all the walls are of glass; if darkness benecessary, the laboratory is so constructed that it may be transformedinto a _camera obscura_. The one thing of importance is theproduction of the phenomenon, be this a bad smell or a perfume, anelectric spark or the colors of Geissler's tubes, a resonance withHelmholtz's reverberators, or the geometrical arrangement of fine duston a metallic plate in vibration; the shape of a leaf or thecontraction of a frog's muscle; the study of the blind spot in the eyeor the rhythm of cardiac pulsation; all is equal and all is included;the eager and absorbing quest is the quest of truth. It is this whichthe new generation demands from science, not the oratorical art of theprofessor, the noble gesture, the quip that lightens the weight of thediscourse, the lively peroration of the carefully elaborated harangue, and all those expedients which were once developed by a special artfor the express purpose of capturing the attention. It is passion forknowledge rather than attention which now animates our young people, who often come out of university halls remembering neither the voicenor the appearance of their professor. But this does not connote the absence of love and respect for themaster. Only, the veneration a modern student feels in the depths ofhis heart for the great scientist and benefactor of humanity, whostands before him unassumingly dressed in a linen blouse, differsessentially from the fear tempered by ridicule which the gown and wigonce inspired. The transformation of schools and teachers must now proceed on thesame lines. When in a school everything revolves around a fundamental fact, andthis fact is a natural phenomenon, the school will have entered theorbit of science. Then the teacher must assume those "characteristics"which are necessary in the presence of science. Among its devotees we find "characteristics" independent of thecontent of thought; in short, physicists, chemists, astronomers, botanists, and zoologists, though their content of knowledge isentirely different, are nevertheless all students of the positivesciences, and have characteristics which differentiate them from themetaphysicians of the past. These characteristics are related, not tothe content, but to the method of the sciences. If, therefore, pedagogy is to take its place among the sciences, it must becharacterized by its method; and the teacher must prepare herself, notby means of the content, but by means of the method. In short, she should be distinguished by _quality_ even more than by_culture_. The fundamental quality is the capacity for "observation"; a qualityso important that the positive sciences were also called "sciences ofobservation, " a term which was changed into "experimental sciences"for those in which observation is combined with experiment. Now it isobvious that the possession of senses and of knowledge is notsufficient to enable a person to observe; it is a habit which must bedeveloped by _practise_. When an attempt is made to show untrainedpersons stellar phenomena by means of the telescope, or the details ofa cell under the microscope, however much the demonstrator may try toexplain by word of mouth what ought to be seen, the layman cannot seeit. When persons who are convinced of the great discovery made by DeVries go to his laboratory to observe the mutations in the variedminute plants of the Aenothera, he often explains in vain theinfinitesimal yet essential differences, denoting, indeed, a newspecies, among seedlings which have hardly germinated. It is wellknown that when a new discovery is to be explained to the public, itis necessary to set forth the coarser details; the uninitiated cannottake in those minute details which constituted the real essence of thediscovery. And this, because they are unable to observe. To observe it is necessary to be "trained, " and this is the true wayof approach to science. For if phenomena cannot be _seen_ it is as ifthey did not exist, while, on the other hand, the _soul of thescientist_ is entirely possessed by a passionate interest in what hesees. He who has been "trained" to see, begins to feel interest, andsuch interest is the motive-power which creates the spirit of thescientist. As in the little child internal _coordination_ is the pointof crystallization round which the entire psychical form willcoalesce, so in the teacher interest in the phenomenon observed willbe the center round which her complete new personality will formspontaneously. The quality of observation comprises various minor qualities, such as_patience_. In comparison with the scientist, the untrained person notonly appears to be a blind man who can see neither with the naked eyenor with the help of lenses; he appears as an "impatient" person. If the astronomer has not already got his telescope in focus, thelayman cannot wait until he has done so; while the scientist would beperforming this task without even perceiving that he was carrying outa long and patient process, the layman would be fuming, and thinking, in great perturbation: "What am I doing here? I cannot waste time likethis. " When microscopists expect visits from a lay public, theyprepare a long row of microscopes already in focus, because they knowthat their visitors will wish to see "at once" and "quickly, " and thatthey will wish to see "a great deal. " We can easily imagine a scientist whose contributions to the work ofthe laboratory are of the highest order, who holds chairs andpossesses civil dignities and honors of every sort, amiably consentingto show a lady a cellular tissue under the microscope. As if it werethe most natural thing in the world, he would proceed as follows, withsolemn and serene gravity. He would cut off a minute portion of apiece of tissue preserved in spirit, and would carefully clean theslide on which the subject was to be placed and the slide that was tocover it; he would clean again the lenses of the microscope, focus thepreparation, and make ready to explain. But undoubtedly the lady allthis time will have been on the point of saying a hundred times:"Excuse me, Professor, but really ... I have an engagement ... I havea great deal to do.... " When she has looked without seeing anything, her lamentations are bitter: "What a lot of time I have wasted!" Andyet she has nothing to do, and fritters away all her time! What shelacks is not time but patience. He who is impatient cannot appraisethings properly; he can only appreciate his own impulses and his ownsatisfactions. He reckons time solely by his own activity. That whichsatisfies him may be absolutely empty, valueless, nugatory; no matter, its value lies in the satisfaction it gives him; and if it gives himsatisfaction, it cannot be said to be a waste of time. But what hecannot endure, and what impresses him as a loss of time is a tensionof the nerves, a moment of self-control, an interval of waitingwithout an immediate result There is, indeed, a popular Italianproverb: _aspettare e non venire è una cosa da morire_ (to wait forwhat does not come is a killing business). These impatient personsare like those busybodies who always make off when there is reallywork to be done. A thorough _education_ is indeed necessary to overcome this attitude;we must master and control our own wills, if we would bring ourselvesinto relation with the external world and appreciate its values. Without this preparation we cannot give due weight to the minutethings from which science draws its conclusions. The capacity for sustained and accurate application to a task theobject of which is apparently of very small importance, is indeed amost valuable asset to him who hopes to advance in science. Let uscall to mind what a physicist does to place an instrument absolutelylevel; how patiently he turns first one screw and then another, triesagain and again, slowly and carefully: and to what end? to procure anabsolutely horizontal direction for a surface. When this measure ofcomparison is established in hard metal, how carefully it must bepreserved to ensure that the oscillations of temperature shall notmodify the length even in the most infinitesimal degree; for thiswould be fatal to the scientific use of the instrument in measuringhorizontals. And yet how slight a thing in itself is involved! thepreservation of a measure! When the great chemist wishes to find outwhether _traces_ of a substance can give a reaction he seems to beplaying with his phials like a little boy; he takes a retort and fillsit with the substance he wishes to study, and then empties it;afterwards he fills it with water, and watches for the reaction; thereaction takes place; then again he empties the retort, fills it anewwith water, and sees whether there is a further reaction. Thus heestablishes the degree of dilution in which the substance will leavetraces. In this case the minimum is the important thing; it was tofind this imperceptible, negligible minimum that the great man actedlike a child. This attitude of _humility_ is an element of patience. In all thingsthe scientist is humble: from the external action of descending fromhis professional throne to work standing at a little table, from thetaking off of his robes to don the workman's blouse, from having laidaside the dignity of one who states an authoritative and indisputabletruth to assume the position of one who is seeking the truth togetherwith his pupils, and inviting them to verify it, to the end not thatthey should learn a doctrine but that they should be spurred toactivity by the truth--from all this, down to the tasks he carries outin his laboratory. He considers nothing too small to absorb all hispowers, to claim his entire attention, to occupy all his time. Evenwhen social honors are heaped upon him, he maintains the sameattitude, which is to him the only true honor, the real source of hisgreatness. A microbe, an excretion, anything, may interest the man ofscience, even though he be a senator or a Minister of State. Theexample of Cincinnatus is not to be compared with that of the modernscientist, for these workers surpass Cincinnatus immeasurably, intheir power of bringing glory and salvation to humanity. But the highest form of humility in men of science is their readyself-abnegation, not only in externals, but even in spiritual things, such as a cherished ideal, convictions that have germinated in theirminds. Confronted with truth, the man of science has nopre-conceptions; he is ready to renounce all those cherished ideas ofhis own that may diverge therefrom. Thus, gradually, he purifieshimself from error, and keeps his mind always fresh, always clear, naked as the Truth with which he desires to blend in a sublime union. Is not this, perhaps, the reason why the specialist in infantilediseases has at present a social dignity and authority far superior tothose of a schoolmaster? Yet the specialist merely seeks for truthamong the excretions of the child's diseased body; but the masterveils its soul with errors. But how would it be if the master should seek the truth in the soul ofthe child? What an incomparable dignity would be his! To raise himselfto this height, however, he would have to be initiated into the waysof humility, of self-abnegation, of patience; and to destroy the pridewhich is built on the void of vanity. After this he, too, might put onthe spiritual vesture of the scientist, saying to the people: What didyou see in the other true sciences? Reeds shaken by the wind? Menclothed in soft raiment? No, you saw prophets; but I am more than aprophet; I am he who crieth in the wilderness: prepare ye the way ofthe Lord, make His paths straight. * * * * * More, indeed, than the other men of science; for they must alwaysremain extraneous to the object of their study: electric energy, chemical energy, the life of microbes, the stars, are all thingsdiverse and remote from the scientist. But the object of theschoolmaster is man himself; the psychical manifestations of childrenevoke something more in him than _interest in the phenomenon_; heobtains from them the revelation of himself, and his emotions vibrateat the contact of other souls like his own. All life may be hisportion, not merely a part of life. Then those _virtues_, such as_humility_ and _patience_, which spring up in the man of sciencewithin the limitations of the external aims he has fixed for himself, may here enfold the entire soul. Then it will no longer be a questionof the "patience of the man of science, " or the "humility of the manof science, " but of the virtues of man in all their plenitude. That spiritual expansion of the man of science which is, as it were, compressed into a tube, like rays of light passing through thecylinders of the telescope, may here be diffused on the horizon likethe dazzling splendor of the sun. The so-called virtues are the_necessary means, the methods of existence_ by which we attain totruth; but the delight of the scientist in his work must vary inproportion as this truth is manifested in a physical force, aprotozoan, or the soul of man. The one name seems scarcely suitablefor the two forms. We understand at once that, in comparison with the_schoolmaster_, the scientist must be to some extent a limited andarid being. The nobility of his spirit is lofty as man, but itsdimensions are those of a brute force or an inferior life. The spiritual life of man may blend with the virtues of the man ofscience only when the student and the subject of study can be fusedtogether. Then science may become a wellspring of wisdom, and truepositive science may become one with the true knowledge of the saints. There is a real mechanism of correspondence between the virtues of theman of science and the virtues of the saints; it is by means ofhumility and patience that the scientist puts himself in contact withmaterial nature; and it is by means of humility and patience that thesaint puts himself in contact with the spiritual nature of things, andas a consequence, mainly with man. The scientist is virtuous onlywithin the limits of his material contacts; the saint is "allcompact" of such virtue; his sacrifices and his enjoyments are alikeillimitable. The scientist is a seer within the limits of his field ofobservation; the saint is a spiritual seer, but he also _sees_material things and their laws more clearly than other men, andinvests them with spirit. The modern scientist knows that every living thing is marvelous, andthat the simplest and most primitive most readily reveal natural lawswhich help us to interpret the most complicated beings. St. Francisindeed knew this: "Come closer, O my sister, " he said to thegrasshopper chirping beneath the fig-tree near the window of his cell;"the smaller the creature the more perfectly does it reveal the powerand goodness of the Creator. " Each tiny thing is worthy of the scientist's minute attention; hecounts the articulations which make up the claws of an insect, andknows the veinings of its most delicate wings; he finds interestingdetails where the ordinary eye would not linger for a moment. St. Francis also observed these things, but they awoke in him a feeling ofspiritual joy and called forth a hymn of praise: "Who, who gave methese little fairy feet, furnished with healthy and flexible littlebones, to enable me to spring swiftly from branch to branch, from twigto twig? Who further gave me eyes, _crystal globes that revolve_ andsee before and behind, to spy out all my enemies, the predatory kite, the black crow, the greedy goose? And he gave me wings, _delicatetissues of gold and green and blue_, which reflect the color of theskies and of my trees. " The vision of the teacher should be at once precise like that of thescientist, and spiritual like that of the saint. The preparation forscience and the preparation for sanctity should form a new soul, forthe attitude of the teacher should be at once positive, scientific, and spiritual. Positive and scientific, because she has an _exact_ task to perform, and it is necessary that she should put herself into immediaterelation with the truth, by means of rigorous observation, that sheshould strip off all illusions, all the idle creations of the fancy, that she should distinguish truth from falsehood unerringly, that, infact, she should follow the example of the scientist, who takesaccount of every minute particle of matter, every elementary andembryonic form of life, but eliminates all optical delusions, all theconfusion which impurities and foreign substances might introduce intothe search for truth. To achieve such an attitude _long practise isnecessary, and a wide observation of life_ under the guidance of thebiological sciences. Spiritual, because it is to man that his powers of observation are tobe applied, and because the characteristics of the creature who is tobe his particular subject of observation are spiritual. I would therefore initiate teachers into the observation of the mostsimple forms of living things, with all those aids which sciencegives; I would make them microscopists; I would give them a knowledgeof the cultivation of plants and train them to observe theirphysiology; I would direct their observation to insects, and wouldmake them study the general laws of biology. And I would not have themconcerned with theory alone, but would encourage them to workindependently in laboratories and in the bosom of free Nature. This complex program of observation must not exclude the physicalaspects of the child. Thus the direct and immediate preparation for ahigher task should be the knowledge of the physical needs of thechild, from birth to the age when psychical life is beginning todevelop in his organization and becomes susceptible to treatment. Bythis I do not mean merely a theoretical course of anatomy, physiology, and hygiene; but a "practise" among little children, which aims atfollowing their development closely, and foresees all their physicalneeds. The teacher, in other words, should prepare herself accordingto the methods of the biological sciences, entering with simplicityand objectivity into the very domain in which students of the naturalsciences and of medicine are initiated, when they make their firstexperiments in the laboratory, before penetrating into the moreprofound problems of life related to their special study. In likemanner those young men, who in our universities are destined to studyvast and complex sciences, must in the beginning undertake the quietand restful work of preparing an infusion, or the section of arose-stalk, and thus experience, as they observe through themicroscope, that emotion born of wonder, which awakens theconsciousness and attracts it to the mysteries of life with apassionate enthusiasm. It was thus that we, accustomed hitherto toread in school only ponderous and arid printed books, felt that thebook of Nature was opening before our spirit, infinite in itspossibilities of creation and of miracle, and responding to all ourlatent and uncomprehended aspirations. This should also be the book of the new teacher, the primer thatshould mold her for her mission of directing infant life. Such apreparation should generate in her consciousness a conception of lifecapable of transforming her, of calling forth in her a special"activity, " an "aptitude" which shall make her efficient for hertask. She should become a providential "force, " a maternal "force. " But all this is but a part of the "preparation. " The teacher must notremain thus on the threshold of life, like those scientists who aredestined to observe plants and animals, and who are accordinglysatisfied with what morphology and physiology can offer. Nor is it hermission to remain intent upon "derangements in the functions of thebody, " like the medical specialist in infantile disease, who iscontent with pathology. She must recognize that the methods of thosesciences are limited. When she chants her introit and sets foot uponthose steps which in the temple of life ascend to the spiritualtabernacle, she should look upwards, and feel that among the adoringhost in the vast temple of science, she is a priestess. Her sphere is to be vaster and more splendid; she is about to observe"the inner life of man. " The arid field which is limited to themarvels of organic matter will not suffice for her; all the spiritualfruits of the history of humanity and of religion will be necessaryfor her nourishment. The lofty manifestations of art, of love, ofholiness, are the characteristic manifestations of that life which sheis not only about to observe but to serve, and which is her "ownlife"; not a thing strange to her, and therefore cold and arid; butthe intimate life she has in common with all men, the true and onlyreal life of Man. The scientific laboratory, the field of Nature where the teacher willbe initiated into "the observation of the phenomena of the inner life"should be the school in which free children develop with the help ofmaterial designed to bring about development. When she feels herself, aflame with interest, "seeing" the spiritual phenomena of the child, and experiences a serene joy and an insatiable eagerness in observingthem, then she will know that she is "initiated. " Then she will begin to become a "teacher. " V ENVIRONMENT Not only must the teacher be transformed, but the school environmentmust be changed. The introduction of the "material of development"into an ordinary school cannot constitute the entire externalrenovation. The school should become the place where the child maylive in freedom, and this freedom must not be solely the intimate, spiritual liberty of internal growth. The entire organism of thechild, from his physiological, vegetative part to his motor activity, ought to find in school "the best conditions for development. " Thisincludes all that physical hygiene has already put forward as aids tothe life of the child. No place would be better adapted than theseschools to establish and popularize reform in the clothing ofchildren, which should meet the requirements of cleanliness and of asimplicity facilitating freedom of movement, while it should be somade as to enable children to dress themselves. No better place couldbe found to carry out and popularize infant hygiene in its relation tonutrition. It would be a work of social regeneration to convince thepublic of the economy they might effect by such practises, to showthem that elegance and propriety in themselves cost nothing--nay, more, that they demand simplicity and moderation, and thereforeexclude all that superfluity which is so expensive. The above applies more especially to schools which, like the original"Children's Houses, " might be instituted in the very buildingsinhabited by the parents of the pupils. Certain special requirements must be recognized in the rooms of a freeschool: psychical hygiene must play its part here as physical hygienehas already done. The great increase in the dimensions of modernclass-rooms was dictated by physical hygiene; the ambient air space ismeasured by "cubature" in relation to the physical needs ofrespiration; and for the same reason, lavatories were multiplied, andbathrooms were installed; physical hygiene further decreed theintroduction of concrete floors and washable dadoes, of centralheating, and in many cases of meals, while gardens or broad terracesare already looked upon as essentials for the physical well-being ofthe child. Wide windows already admit the light freely, and gymnasiawith spacious halls and a variety of complex and costly apparatus wereestablished. Finally, the most complicated desks, sometimes veritablemachines of wood and iron, with foot-rests, seats, and desks revolvingautomatically, in order to preclude alike the movements of the childand the distortions arising from immobility, are the economicallydisastrous contribution of a false principle of "school-hygiene. " Inthe modern school, the uniform whiteness and the washable quality ofevery object denote the triumph of an epoch in which the campaignagainst microbes would seem to be the sole key to human life. Psychical hygiene now presents itself on the threshold of the schoolwith its new precepts, precepts which economically are certainly nomore onerous than those entailed by the first triumphant entry ofphysical hygiene. They require, however, that schoolrooms be enlarged, not in deferenceto the laws of respiration, for central heating, which makes itpossible to keep windows open, renders calculations based on cubicmeasure negligible; but because space is necessary for the liberty ofmovement which should be allowed to the child. However, as the child'swalking exercise will not be taken indoors, this increase of spacewill be sufficient if it permits free movement among the furniture. Still, if an ideal perfection is to be achieved, we may say that the"psychical" class-room should be twice as large as the "physical"class-room. We all know the sense of comfort of which we are consciouswhen a good half of the floor space in a room is unencumbered; thisseems to offer us the agreeable possibility of _moving_ about freely. This sensation of well-being is more intimate than the possibility ofbreathing offered to us in a room of medium size crowded withfurniture. Scantiness of furniture is certainly a powerful factor in hygiene;here physical and psychical hygiene are at one. In our schools werecommend the use of "light" furniture, which is correspondinglysimple, and economical in the extreme. If it be washable, so much thebetter, especially as the children will then "learn to wash it, " thusperforming a pleasing and very instructive exercise. But what is aboveall essential is, that it should be "artistically beautiful. " In thiscase beauty is not produced by superfluity or luxury, but by grace andharmony of line and color, combined with that absolute simplicitynecessitated by the lightness of the furniture. Just as the moderndress of children is more elegant than that of the past, and at thesame time infinitely simpler and more economical, so is thisfurniture. In a "Children's House" in the country, at Palidano, built tocommemorate the Marchese Carlo Guerrieri Gonzaga, we initiated thestudy of "artistic" furnishing. It is well known that every littlecorner of Italy is a storehouse of local art, and there is no provincewhich in bygone times did not contain graceful and convenient objects, due to a combination of practical sense and artistic instinct. Nearlyall these treasures are now being dispersed, and the very memory ofthem is dying out, under the tyranny of the stupid and uniform"hygienic" fashions of our day. It was therefore a delightfulundertaking on the part of Maria Maraini to make careful inquiriesinto the rustic local art of the past, and to give it new life byreproducing, in the furniture of the "Children's Houses, " the formsand colors of tables, chairs, sideboards, and pottery, the designs oftextiles and the characteristic decorative motives to be met with inold country-houses. This revival of rustic art will bring back intouse objects used by the poor in ages less wealthy than ours, andmeanwhile may be a revelation in "economy. " If, instead of schoolbenches, such simple and graceful objects were manufactured, even thisschool furniture would show how beauty may be evolved from ugliness byeliminating superfluous material; for beauty is a question, not ofmaterial, but of inspiration. Hence we must not look to richness ofmaterial, but to refinement of spirit for these practical reforms. If similar studies should be made some day upon the rustic art of allthe Italian provinces, each of which has its special artistictraditions, "types of furniture" might arise which would in themselvesdo much to elevate the taste and refine the habits. They would bringto the enlightenment of the world an "educational mode, " because thetime-honored artistic feeling of a people with a very ancientcivilization would breathe new life into those moderns who seemed tobe suffocating under the obsession of physical hygiene, and to beactuated solely by a despairing effort to combat disease. We should witness the humanization of art, rising amidst the uglinessand darkness of those who have accustomed themselves to think only ofdeath. Indeed, the "hygienic houses" of to-day, with their bare walls, and white washable furniture, look like hospitals; while the schoolsseem veritable tombs, with their desks ranged in rows like blackcatafalques--black, merely because they have to be of the same coloras ink to hide the stains which are looked upon as a necessity, justas certain sins and certain crimes are still considered to beinevitable in the world; the alternative of avoiding them has neveroccurred to any one. Class-rooms have black desks, and bare, graywalls, more devoid of ornament than those of a mortuary chamber; thisis to the end that the starved and famishing spirit of the child may"accept" the indigestible intellectual food which the teacher bestowsupon it. In other words, every distracting element has to be removedfrom the environment, so that the teacher, by his oratorical art, andwith the help of his laborious expedients, may succeed in fixing therebellious attention of his pupils on himself. On the other hand, thespiritual school puts no limits to the beauty of its environment, saveeconomical limits. No ornament can distract a child really absorbed inhis task; on the contrary, beauty both promotes concentration ofthought and offers refreshment to the tired spirit. Indeed, thechurches, which are _par excellence_ places of meditation and ofrepose for the life of the soul, have called upon the highestinspirations of genius to gather every beauty within their precincts. Such words may seem strange; but if we wish to keep in touch with theprinciples of science, we may say that the place best adapted to thelife of man is an artistic environment; and that, therefore, if wewant the school to become "a laboratory for the observation of humanlife, " we must gather within it things of _beauty_, just as thelaboratory of the bacteriologist must be furnished with stoves andsoils for the culture of bacilli. Furniture for children, their tables and chairs, should be light, notonly that they may be easily carried about by childish arms, butbecause their very fragility is of educational value. The sameconsideration leads us to give children china plates and glassdrinking-vessels, for these objects become the _denouncers_ of rough, disorderly, and undisciplined movements. Thus the child is led tocorrect himself, and he accordingly trains himself not to knockagainst, overturn, and break things; softening his movements more andmore, he gradually becomes their perfectly free and self-possesseddirector. In the same way the child will accustom himself to do hisutmost _not to soil_ the gay and pretty things which enliven hissurroundings. Thus he makes progress in his own perfection, or, inother words, it is thus he achieves the perfect coordination of hisvoluntary movements. It is the same process by which, having enjoyedsilence and music, he will do all in his power to avoid discordantnoises, which have become unpleasant to his educated ear. On the other hand, when a child comes into collision a hundred timeswith an enormously heavy iron-bound desk, which a porter would havedifficulty in moving; when he makes thousands of invisible ink-stainson a black bench; when he lets a metal plate fall to the ground ahundred times without breaking it, he remains immersed in his sea ofdefects without perceiving them; his environment meanwhile is soconstructed as to hide and therefore to encourage his errors, withMephistophelean hypocrisy. * * * * * =Free movement=. --It is now a hygienic principle universally acceptedthat children require movement. Thus, when we speak of "freechildren, " we generally imply that they are free to move, that is, torun and jump. No mother nowadays fails to agree with the children'sdoctor that her child should go into parks and meadows, and move aboutfreely in the open air. When we talk of liberty for children in school, some such conceptionof physical liberty as this rises at once in the mind. We imagine thefree child making perilous leaps over the desks, or dashing madlyagainst the walls; his "liberty of movement" seems necessarily toimply the idea of "a wide space, " and accordingly we suppose that, ifconfined to the narrow limits of a room, it would inevitably become aconflict between violence and obstacles, a disorder incompatible withdiscipline and work. But in the laws of "psychical hygiene, " "liberty of movement" is notlimited to a conception so primitive as that of merely "animatedbodily liberty. " We might, indeed, say of a puppy or a kitten what wesay of children: that they should be free to run and jump, and thatthey should be able to do so, as in fact they often do, in a park or afield, with and like the children. If, however, we wish to apply thesame conception of motor liberty to our treatment of a bird, we shouldmake certain arrangements for it; we should place within its reach thebranch of a tree, or crossed sticks which would afford foothold forits claws, since these are not designed to be spread out on theground like the feet of creeping things, but are adapted to gripping astick. We know that a bird "left free to move" over a vast, illimitable plain would be miserable. How then is it that we never think thus: if it be necessary to preparedifferent environments for a bird and a reptile in order to ensuretheir liberty of movement, must it not be a mistake to provide thesame form of liberty for our children as that proper to cats and dogs?Children, indeed, when left to themselves to take exercise, showimpatience, and are prone to quarrel and cry; older children feel itnecessary to invent something whereby they may conceal from themselvesthe intolerable boredom and humiliation of walking for walking's sake, and running for running's sake. They try to find some object for theirexertions; the younger children play pranks. The activity of childrenthus left to themselves has rarely a good result; it does not aiddevelopment, save as regards the physical advantage of generalnutrition, that is, of the vegetative life. Their movements becomeungraceful; they invent unseemly capers, walk with a staggering gait, fall easily, and break things. They are evidently quite unlike thefree kitten, so full of grace, so fascinating in its movements, tending to perfect its action by the light jumping and running whichare natural to it. In the motor instinct of the child there appears tobe no grace, no natural impulse towards perfection. Hence we mustconclude that the movement which suffices for the cat does not sufficefor the child, and that if the nature of the child is different, hispath of liberty must also be different. If the child has no "intelligent aim" in his movements, he is withoutinternal guidance, thus movement tires him. Many men feel thedreadful emptiness of being compelled to "move without an object. " Oneof the cruel punishments invented for the chastisement of slaves wasto make them dig deep holes in the earth and fill them up againrepeatedly, in other words, to make them work without an object. Experiments on fatigue have shown that work with an intelligent objectis far less fatiguing than an equal quantity of aimless work. So muchso, that the psychiatrists of to-day recommend, not "exercise in theopen air, " but "work in the open air, " to restore the individuality ofthe neurasthenic. "Reconstructive" work--work, that is to say, which is not the productof a "mental effort, " but tends to the coordination of thepsycho-muscular organism. Such are the activities which are notdirected to the _production_ of objects, but to their _preservation_, as, for instance, dusting or washing a little table, sweeping thefloor, laying or clearing the table, cleaning shoes, spreading out acarpet. These are the tasks performed by a servant to _preserve_ theobjects belonging to his master, work of a very different order tothat of the artificer, who, on the other hand, _produced_ thoseobjects by an intelligent effort. The two classes of work areprofoundly different. The one is simple; it is a coordinated activityscarcely higher in degree than the activity required for walking orjumping; for it merely gives purpose to those simple movements, whereas _productive_ work entails a preliminary intellectual work ofpreparation, and comprises a series of very complicated motormovements, together with an application of sensory exercises. The first is the work suitable for little children, who must"exercise themselves in order to learn to coordinate their movements. " It consists of the so-called exercises of practical life whichcorrespond to the psychical principle of "liberty of movement. " Forthis it will be sufficient to prepare "a suitable environment, " justas we should place the branch of a tree in an aviary, and then toleave the children to follow their instincts of activity andimitation. The surrounding objects should be proportioned to the sizeand strength of the child: light furniture that he can carry about;low dressers within reach of his arms; locks that he can easilymanipulate; chests that run on castors; light doors that he can openand shut readily; clothes-pegs fixed on the walls at a heightconvenient for him; brushes his little hand can grasp; pieces of soapthat can lie in the hollow of such a hand; basins so small that thechild is strong enough to empty them; brooms with short, smooth, lighthandles; clothes he can easily put on and take off himself; these aresurroundings which invite activity, and among which the child willgradually perfect his movements without fatigue, acquiring human graceand dexterity, just as the little kitten acquires its gracefulmovement and feline dexterity solely under the guidance of instinct. The field thus opened to the free activity of the child will enablehim to exercise himself and to form himself as a man. It is notmovement for its own sake that he will derive from these exercises, but a powerful co-efficient in the complex formation of hispersonality. His social sentiments in the relations he forms withother free and active children, his collaborators in a kind ofhousehold designed to protect and aid their development; the sense ofdignity acquired by the child who learns to satisfy himself insurroundings he himself preserves and dominates--these are theco-efficients of humanity which accompany "liberty of movement. " Fromhis consciousness of this development of his personality the childderives the impulse to persist in these tasks, the industry to performthem, the intelligent joy he shows in their completion. In such anenvironment he undoubtedly _works himself_ and fortifies his spiritualbeing, just as when his body is bathed in fresh air and his limbs movefreely in the meadows, he works at the growth of his physical organismand strengthens it. VI ATTENTION The phenomenon to be expected from the little child, when he is placedin an environment favorable to his spiritual growth, is this: thatsuddenly the child will fix his attention upon an object, will use itfor the purpose for which it was constructed, and will _continue_ torepeat the same exercise indefinitely. One will repeat an exercisetwenty times, another forty times, and yet another two hundred times;but this is the first phenomenon to be expected, as initiatory tothose acts with which spiritual growth is bound up. That which moves the child to this manifestation of activity isevidently a primitive internal impulse, almost a vague sense ofspiritual hunger; and it is the impulse to satisfy this hunger whichthen actually directs the consciousness of the child to the determinedobject and leads it gradually to a primordial, but complex andrepeated exercise of the intelligence in comparing, judging, decidingupon an act, and correcting an error. When the child, occupied withthe solid insets, places and displaces the ten little cylinders intheir respective places thirty or forty times consecutively; and, having made a mistake, sets himself a problem and solves it, hebecomes more and more interested, and tries the experiment again andagain; he prolongs a complex exercise of his psychical activitieswhich makes way for an internal development. It is probably the internal perception of this development whichmakes the exercise pleasing, and induces prolonged application to thesame task. To quench thirst, it is not sufficient to see or to sipwater; the thirsty man must drink his fill: that is to say, must takein the quantity his organism requires; so, to satisfy this kind ofpsychical hunger and thirst, it is not sufficient to see thingscursorily, much less "to hear them described"; it is necessary topossess them and to use them to the full for the satisfaction of theneeds of the inner life. This fact stands revealed as the basis of all psychical construction, and the sole secret of education. The external object is the gymnasiumon which the spirit exercises itself, and such "internal" exercisesare primarily "in themselves" the end and aim of action. Hence thesolid insets are not intended to give the child a knowledge ofdimensions, nor are the plane insets designed to give him a conceptionof forms; the purpose of these, as of all the other objects, is tomake the child exercise his activities. The fact that the child reallyacquires by these means definite knowledge, the recollection of whichis vivid in proportion to the fixity and intensity of his attention, is a necessary result; and, indeed, it is precisely the sensoryknowledge of dimensions, forms and colors, etc. , thus acquired, whichmakes the continuation of such internal exercises in fieldsprogressively vaster and higher, a possible achievement. Hitherto, all psychologists have agreed that instability of attentionis the characteristic of little children of three or four years old;attracted by everything they see, they pass from object to object, unable to concentrate on any; and generally the difficulty of fixingthe attention of children is the stumbling-block of their education, William James speaks of "that extreme mobility of the attention withwhich we are all familiar in children, and which makes their firstlessons such rough affairs.... The reflex and passive character of theattention ... Which makes the child seem to belong less to himselfthan to every object which happens to catch his notice, is the firstthing which the teacher must overcome.... The faculty of voluntarilybringing back a wandering attention, over and over again is the veryroot of judgment, character and will.... An education which shouldimprove this faculty would be _the_ education _par excellence_. " Thus man, acting by himself alone, never successfully arrests andfixes that _inquiring_ attention which wanders from object to object. In fact, in our experiment the attention of the little child was notartificially maintained by a teacher; it was an object which fixedthat attention, as if it corresponded to some internal impulse; animpulse which evidently was directed solely to the things "necessary"for its development. In the same manner, those complex coordinatedmovements achieved by a new-born infant in the act of sucking, arelimited to the first and unconscious need of nutrition; they are not aconscious acquisition directed to a purpose. Indeed, the conscious acquisition directed to a definite purpose wouldbe impossible in the movements of a new-born infant's mouth, as alsoin the first movements of the child's spirit. Therefore it is essential that the external stimulus which firstpresents itself should be verily the breast and the milk of thespirit, and then only shall we behold that surprising phenomenon of alittle face concentrated in an intensity of attention. Behold a child of three years old capable of repeating the sameexercise fifty times in succession; many persons are moving aboutbeside him; some one is playing the piano; children are singing inchorus; but nothing distracts the little child from his profoundconcentration. Just so does the suckling keep hold of the mother'sbreast, uninterrupted by external incidents, and desists only when heis satisfied. Only Nature accomplishes such miracles. If, then, psychical manifestations have their root in Nature, it wasnecessary, in order to understand and help Nature, to study it in itsinitial periods, those which are the simplest, and the only onescapable of revealing truths which would serve as guides for theinterpretation of later and more complex manifestations. This, indeed, many psychologists have done; but, applying the analytical methods ofexperimental psychology, they did not start from that point whence thebiological sciences derive their knowledge of life: that is, the_liberty_ of the living creatures they desire to observe. If Fabre hadnot made use of insects, while leaving them free to carry out theirnatural manifestations, and observing them without allowing hispresence to interfere in any way with their functions; if he hadcaught insects, had taken them into his study, and subjected them toexperiment, he would not have been able to reveal the marvels ofinsect life. If bacteriologists had not instituted, as a method of research, anenvironment similar to that which is natural to microbes, both asregards nutritive substances and conditions of temperature, etc. , tothe end that they "might live freely" and thus manifest theircharacteristics; if they had confined themselves to fixing the germsof a disease under the microscope, the science which to-day saves thelives of innumerable men and protects whole nations from epidemicswould not exist. Freedom to live is the true basis for every method of observationapplied to living creatures. _Liberty_ is the experimental condition for studying the phenomena ofthe child's attention. It will be enough to remember that the stimuliof infant attention, being mainly sensory, have a powerfulphysiological concomitant of "accommodation" in the organs of sense;an accommodation, physiologically incomplete in the young child, whichrequires to develop itself according to Nature. An object not adaptedto become a useful stimulus to the powers of accommodation in processof development would not only be incapable of sustaining attention asa psychical fact, but would also, as a physiological fact, weary oractually injure the organs of accommodation such as the eye and ear. But the child who _chooses_ the objects, and perseveres in their usewith the utmost intensity of attention, as shown in the muscularcontractions which give mimetic expression to his face, evidentlyexperiences _pleasure_, and pleasure is an indication of healthyfunctional activity; it always accompanies exercises which are usefulto the organs of the body. Attention also requires a _preparation_ of the ideative centers inrelation to the external object for which it is to be demanded: inother words, an internal, psychical "adaptation. " The cerebral centersshould be excited in their turn by an internal process, when anexternal stimulus acts. Thus, for instance, any one who is expecting aperson, sees him arriving from a considerable distance; not onlybecause the person presents himself to the senses, but because he was"expected. " The distant figure claimed attention because the cerebralcenters were already excited to that end. By means of similaractivities a hunter is conscious of the slightest sound made by gamein woods. In short, two forces act upon the cerebral cell, as upon aclosed door: the external sensory force which knocks, and the internalforce which says: Open. If the internal force does not open, it is invain that the external stimulus knocks at the door. And then thestrongest stimuli may pass unheeded. The absent-minded man may stepinto a chasm. The man who is absorbed in a task may be deaf to a bandplaying in the street. The central action that constitutes attention is the factor of thegreatest psychological and philosophic value, and the one which hasalways represented the maximum among the practical values in pedagogy. The whole art of teachers has consisted, in substance, in preparingthe attention of the child to make it _expectant_ of theirinstruction, and in securing the cooperation of those internal forceswhich should "open the door" when they "knock. " And as the thing whichis quite unknown, or that which is inaccessible to the understanding, can awaken no interest, the fundamentals of the art of teaching wereto go gradually from the known to the unknown, from the easy to thedifficult. It is the preexistent "known" which excites expectation and_opens the door_ to the novel "unknown"; and it is the already present"easy work" which opens new ways for penetration, and puts theattention into a state of expectation. Thus, according to the conceptions of pedagogy, it should be possibleto "prepare good offices for oneself, " the cooperation of thepsychical concomitants of the attention. Everything would depend onskilful manipulation between the known and the unknown and similarthings: the clever teacher would be like the great militarystrategist, who prepares the plan of a battle upon a table; and manwould be able to _direct man_, leading him wheresoever he pleases. This, moreover, has long been the materialistic principle whichgoverns psychology. According to Herbert Spencer, the mind is atfirst, as it were, an indifferent day, on which external impressions"rain, " leaving traces more or less profound. "Experiences" are, according to him and the English empiricists, the constructive factorsof the mind even in its highest activities. Man is what experience hasmade him; hence, in education, by preparing a suitable structure ofexperiences, it is possible to _build up the man_. A conception notless materialistic than that which presented itself for a momentbefore the marvelous progress of organic chemistry, when the series ofsyntheses succeeded that of analyses. It was then believed that aspecies of albumen might be manufactured synthetically, and as albumenis the organic basis of the cells, and as the human ovum is nothingbut a cell, man himself might one day be manufactured on the chemist'stable. The conception of man as the creator of man was quicklydiscredited in the material domain; but the psychical _homunculus_still persists among the practical conceptions of pedagogy. No chemical synthesis could put into the cell, apparently nothing morethan a simple clot of nucleated protoplasm, that _activity sinematter_, that potential vital force, that mysterious factor whichcauses a cell to develop into man. And the elusive attention of children would seem to tell us that thepsychical man is subject to analogous laws of auto-creation. The most modern school of spiritualistic psychologists, to whichWilliam James belonged, recognized, in the concomitant of attention, afact bound up with the nature of the subject, a "spiritual force, " oneof the "mysterious factors of life. " "... From whence his intellect Deduced its primal notices of thought, Man therefore knows not; or his appetites Their first affection; such In you as zeal In bees to gather honey. " (Carey's translation, Dante's _Purgatorio_, Canto XVIII. ) There is in man a special attitude to external things, which formspart of his nature, and determines its character. The internalactivities act as cause; they do not react and exist as the _effect_of external factors. Our attention is not arrested by all thingsindifferently, but by those which are congenial to our tastes. Thethings which are useful to our inner life are those which arouse ourinterest. Our internal world is created upon a selection from theexternal world, acquired for and in harmony with our internalactivities. The painter will see a preponderance of colors in theworld, the musician will be attracted by sounds. It is the quality ofour attention which reveals ourselves, and we manifest ourselvesexternally by our aptitudes; it is not our attention which creates us. The individual character, the internal form, the difference betweenone man and another, are also obvious among men who have lived in thesame environment, but who from that environment have taken only whatwas necessary for each. The "experiences" with which each constructshis _ego_ in relation to the external world do not form a _chaos_, butare _directed_ by his intimate individual aptitudes. If there were any doubt as to the natural force which directspsychical formation, our experiences with little children wouldfurnish a decisive proof. No teacher could procure such phenomena ofattention by any artifices; they have evidently an internal origin. The power of concentration shown by little children from three to fouryears old have no counterpart save in the annals of genius. Theselittle ones seem to reproduce the infancy of men possessing anextraordinary power of attention, such as Archimedes, who was slainwhile bending over his circles, from which rumors of the taking ofSyracuse had failed to distract him; or Newton, who, absorbed in hisstudies, forgot to eat; or Vittorio Alfieri, who, when writing a poem, heard nothing of the noisy wedding procession which was passing withshouts and clamor before his windows. Now, these characteristics of the attention of genius could not beevoked by an "interesting" teacher, however subtle his art; nor couldany accumulation of passive experiences become such an accumulator ofpsychical energies. If there be a spiritual force working within the child, by which hemay open the door of his attention, the problem which necessarilypresents itself is a problem of _liberty_, rather than a problem ofpedagogic art effecting the construction of his mind. The bestowal ofthe nourishment suitable to psychical needs, by means of the externalobjects, and readiness to respect liberty of development in the mostperfect manner possible, are the foundations which, from a logicalpoint of view, should be laid down for the construction of a newpedagogy. It is no longer a question of attempting to create the homunculus, like the chemists of the nineteenth century; but rather of taking thelantern of Diogenes and going in search of the man. A science shouldestablish _by means of experiments_ what is necessary to theprimordial psychical requirements of the child; and then we shallwitness the development of complex vital phenomena, in which theintelligence, the will, and the character develop together, just asthe brain, the stomach, and the muscles of the rationally nourishedchild develop together. Together with the first psychical exercises, the first coordinatedcognitions will be fixed in the child's mind, and the _known_ willbegin to exist in him, providing the first germs of an intellectualinterest, supplementing his instinctive interest. When this takesplace, a state of things begins to establish itself which has someanalogy with that mechanism of attention which the pedagogists ofto-day take as the basis of the art of teaching. The transition fromthe known to the unknown, from the simple to the complex, from theeasy to the difficult, is reproduced, from a certain point of view;but with special characteristics. The progression _from the known to the unknown_ does not proceed fromobject to object, as would be assumed by the master who does not bringabout the development of ideas from a center, but merely unites themin a chain, without any definite object, allowing the mind to wanderaimlessly, though bound to himself. Here, on the other hand, the knownestablishes itself in the child as a _complex system_ of ideas, whichsystem was actively constructed by the child himself during a seriesof psychical processes, representing in themselves an internal_formation_, a psychical growth. To bring about such a progress we must offer the child a systematic, complex material, corresponding to his natural instincts. Thus, forinstance, by means of our sensory apparatus we offer the child aseries of objects capable of drawing his instinctive attention tocolors, forms, and sounds, to tactile and baric qualities, etc. , andthe child, by means of the characteristically prolonged exercises witheach object, begins to organize his psychical personality, but at thesame time acquires a clear and orderly knowledge of things. Thenceforth all external objects, for the reason that they have forms, dimensions, colors, qualities of smoothness, weight, hardness, etc. , are no longer foreign to the mind. There is something in theconsciousness of the child which prepares him to _expect_ thesethings, and invites him to receive them with interest. When the child has added a cognition to the primitive impulse whichdirects his attention to external things, he has acquired otherrelations with the world, other forms of interest; these are no longermerely those primitive ones which are bound up with a species ofprimordial instinct, but have become a discerning interest, based uponthe conquests of the intelligence. It is true that all these new conquests are fundamentally andprofoundly based upon the _psychical needs_ of the individual; but theintellectual element has now been added, transforming an impulse intoa conscious and voluntary quest. The old pedagogic conception, which assumed that to call the attentionof the child to the unknown it is necessary to connect it with theknown, because it is thus that his interest may be won for the newknowledge to be imparted, grasped but a single detail of the complexphenomenon we now witness after our experiments. If the _known_ is to represent a new source of interest directedtowards the unknown, it is essential that it should itself have beenacquired in accordance with the tendency of nature; then precedingknowledge will lend interest to objects of ever-increasing complexityand of lofty significance. The culture thus created ensures thepossibility of an indefinite _continuation_ in the successiveevolution of such formative phenomena. Moreover, this culture itself creates _order_ in the mind: when theteacher, giving her plain and simple lesson, says: This is long, thisis short, this is red, this is yellow, etc. , she fixes with a singleword the clearly marked order of the sensations, classifies, and"catalogues" them. And each impression is perfectly distinct from theother, and has its own determined place in the mind, which may berecalled by a word; thenceforth, new acquisitions will not be thrownaside or mixed together chaotically, but will be duly deposited intheir proper places, side by side with previous acquisitions of thesame kind, like books in a well-arranged library. Thus the mind not only has within itself the propulsive force requiredto increase its knowledge, but also an established order, which willbe steadily maintained throughout its successive and illimitableenrichment by new material; and as it grows and gains strength, itretains its "equilibrium. " These continual exercises in _comparison_, _judgment_, and _choice_ carried out among the objects, further tendto place the internal acquisitions so logically into relation one withanother, that the results are a singular _facility_ and _accuracy_ ofreasoning power, and a remarkable _quickness_ of comprehension: thelaw of "the minimum of effort" is truly carried out as it iseverywhere where order and activity reign. The internal coordination, like physiological adaptation, establishesitself as a result of the spontaneity of the exercises; the freedevelopment of a personality which grows and organizes itself is thatwhich determines such an internal condition, just as in the body ofthe embryo the heart, in process of development, makes a place foritself in the space of the diastinum between the lungs, and thediaphragm assumes its arched form as a result of pulmonary dilation. The teacher directs these phenomena; but, in so doing, she is carefulto avoid calling the child's attention to herself, since the wholefuture depends upon his concentration. Her art consists inunderstanding and in avoiding interference with natural phenomena. That which has been clearly demonstrated as regards the nutrition ofthe new-born infant and the first coordinated activities of the spiritwill be repeated at every period of life, with the necessarymodifications induced by the increased complexity of the phenomena. Continuing the parallel with physical nutrition, let us consider thegrowing infant which has cut its teeth, developed its gastric juice, and so gradually requires a more complicated diet, until we come tothe adult man, nourishing himself by means of all the complications ofmodern kitchen and table; to keep himself in health, he should eat_only_ the things which correspond to the intimate needs of hisorganism; and if he introduces over-rich or unusual, unsuitable orpoisonous substances, the result will be impoverishment, self-poisoning, a "malady. " Now it was the study of the child'snutrition during the period of suckling and during the first years oflife which created alimentary hygiene, not only for the child but forthe adult, and pointed out the perils to which all were alike exposedduring the epoch when infantile hygiene was unknown. There is a singular parallel in psychical life: the man will have aninfinitely more complex life than the child; but for him, too, thereshould always be a correspondence between the needs of his nature andthe manner in which his spirit is nourished. A _rule_ of internal lifewill always promote the health of the man. Turning to attention, the primitive fact of correspondence betweennature and stimulus which is the fundamental of life should prevail, however modified, when dealing with older children, and should remainthe basis of education. I am prepared for the objections of "experts. " Children must beaccustomed to pay attention to everything, even to things which aredistasteful to them, because practical life demands such efforts. The objection is based on a prejudice analogous to that which at onetime made good fathers of families say: "Children should be accustomedto eat everything. " In just the same way, moral training is putoutside its rightful sphere--a fatal confusion. When ideas of thisorder, now happily obsolete, obtained, fathers would allow theirchildren to fast all day, if they refused a dish they disliked at themid-day meal, forbidding them anything but the rejected portion, whichbecame ever colder and more disgusting, until at last hunger weakenedthe child's will and destroyed his caprice, and the plateful of coldfood was swallowed. Thus, argued such a father, in the variouscircumstances in which he may be placed throughout his life, my sonwill be ready to eat whatever comes to hand, and will not be greedyand capricious. In those days also, sweets were forbidden to children(whose organisms require sugar, because the muscles consume a greatdeal of this during growth), in order to teach them to overcomegreediness, and an easy and convenient method of correcting naughtychildren was to "send them to bed without any supper. " Very similar methods are now adopted by those who insist that childrenshould pay attention to things they dislike, in order to accustom themto the necessities of life. But as in the case of psychicalnourishment hunger is never brought to bear upon the "cold anddistasteful viands, " the indigestible and heavy food weakens andpoisons the unwilling recipient. Not thus shall we prepare the robust spirit, ready for all thedifficult eventualities of life. The boy who swallowed the cold soupand went fasting to bed was the one whose body developed badly, whowas too weak to resist infection when he encountered it, and fell ill;and morally it was he who, having a store of unsatisfied appetiteswithin him, looked upon it as the greatest joy of his liberty, when hebecame an adult, to eat and drink to excess. How unlike was he to theboy of to-day, who, rationally fed and made robust of body, becomesthe _abstemious_ man, who eats to live in health, and combatsalcoholism and excessive and injurious feeding; the modern man, whocan defend himself by so many means against infectious diseases, andwho is so ready for effort that, without any compulsion, he braves thearduous exertion of sport, and attempts and carries out greatenterprises, such as the discovery of the Poles and the ascent oflofty mountains. So, too, the man capable of braving the icy wastes of moral conflict, of undertaking spiritual ascents, will be he whose will is strong, whose spirit is well balanced, whose decisions are prompt andstedfast. And the more a man's inner life shall have grown _normally_, organizing itself in accordance with the provident laws of nature, andforming an individuality, the more richly will he be endowed with astrong will and a well-balanced mind. To be ready for a struggle, itis not necessary to have struggled from one's birth, but it isnecessary to be strong. He who is strong is ready; no hero was a herobefore he had performed his heroic deed. The trials life has in storefor us are unforeseen, unexpected; no one can prepare us directly tomeet them; it is only a vigorous soul that can be prepared foreverything. When a living being is in process of evolution, it is essential toprovide for the special requirements of the moment, in order to ensureits normal development. The foetus must be nourished with blood; thenew-born infant with milk. If during its intra-uterine life thefoetus should lack blood rich in albuminous substances and oxygen, or if poisonous substances should be introduced into its tissues, theliving being will not develop normally, and no after-care willstrengthen the man evolved from this impoverished source. Should theinfant lack sufficient milk, the mal-nutrition of the initial stage oflife condemns him to a permanent state of inferiority. The suckling"prepares himself to walk" by lying stretched out, and spending long, quiet hours in sleep. It is by sucking that the babe begins histeething. So, too, the fledgling in the nest does not prepare forflight by flying, but remains motionless in the little warm shellwhere its food is provided. The preparations for life are indirect. The prelude to such phenomena of Nature as the majestic flight ofbirds, the ferocity of wild beasts, the song of the nightingale, thevariegated beauty of the butterfly's wings, is the preparation in thesecret places of a nest or a den, or in the motionless intimacy of thecocoon. Omnipotent Nature asks only peace for the creature in processof formation. All the rest she gives herself. Then the childish spirit should also find a warm nest where itsnutrition is secure, and after this we should await the revelations ofits development. It is essential, therefore, to offer objects which correspond to itsformative tendencies, in order to obtain the result which educationmakes its goal: the development of the latent forces in man with theminimum of strain and all possible fulness. VII WILL When the child chooses from among a considerable number of objects theone he prefers, when he moves to go and take it from the sideboard, and then replaces it, or consents to give it up to a companion; whenhe waits until one of the pieces of the apparatus he wishes to use islaid aside by the child who has it in his hand at the moment; when hepersists for a long time and with earnest attention in the sameexercise, correcting the mistakes which the didactic material revealsto him; when, in the silence-exercise, he retains all his impulses, all his movements, and then, rising when his name is called, controlsthese movements carefully to avoid making a noise with his feet orknocking against the furniture, he performs so many acts of the"will. " It may be said that in him the exercise of the will iscontinuous; nay, that the factor which really acts and persists amonghis aptitudes is the will, which is built up on the internalfundamental fact of a prolonged attention. Let us analyze some of the co-efficients of will. The whole external expression of the will is contained in _movement_:whatever action man performs, whether he walks, works, speaks orwrites, opens his eyes to look, or closes them to shut out a scene, heacts by "motion. " An act of the will may also be directed to therestriction of movement: to restrain the disorderly movements ofanger; not to give way to the impulse which urges us to snatch adesirable object from the hand of another, are voluntary actions. Therefore the will is not a simple impulse towards movement, but theintelligent direction of movements. There can be no manifestation of the will without completed action; hewho thinks of performing a good action, but leaves it undone; he whodesires to atone for an offense, but takes no step to do so; he whoproposes to go out, to pay a call, or to write a letter, but goes nofarther in the matter, does not accomplish an exercise of the will. Tothink and to wish is not enough. It is action which counts. "The wayto Hell is paved with good intentions. " The life of volition is the life of action. Now all our actionsrepresent a resultant of the forces of impulse and inhibition, and byconstant repetition of actions this resultant may become almosthabitual and unconscious. Such is the case, for instance, with regardto all those customary actions, the sum of which constitute "thebehavior of a well-bred person. " Our impulse might be to pay a certainvisit, but we know that we might disturb our friend, that it is nother day for receiving, and we refrain; we may be comfortably seated ina corner of the drawing-room, but a venerable person enters, and werise to our feet; we are not much attracted by this lady, butnevertheless we also bow or shake her hand; the sweetmeat to which ourneighbor helps herself is just the one we desired, but we are carefulto give no sign of this. All the movements of our body are not merelythose dictated by impulse or weariness; they are the correctexpression of what we consider decorous. Without impulses we couldtake no part in social life; on the other hand, without inhibitions wecould not correct, direct, and utilize our impulses. This reciprocal equilibrium between opposite motor forces is theresult of prolonged exercises, of _ancient habits_ within us; we nolonger have any sense of effort in performing these, we no longerrequire the support of reason and knowledge to accomplish them; theseacts have almost become reflex. And yet the acts in question are by nomeans reflex actions; it is not Nature but habit which produces allthis. We know well how the person who has not been brought up toobserve certain rules, but has been hastily instructed in theknowledge of them, will too often be guilty of blunders and lapses, because he is obliged to "perform" there and then all the necessarycoordination of voluntary acts, and there and then direct them underthe vigilant and immediate control of the consciousness; and such aperpetual effort cannot certainly compete with the "habit" ofdistinguished manners. The will stores up its prolonged effortsoutside the consciousness, or at its extreme margin, and leaves theconsciousness itself unencumbered to make new acquisitions and furtherefforts. Thus we cease to consider as _evidences of will_ those habitsin which we nevertheless see the consciousness, as it were, hangingover and watchful of each act, that it may accord with the perfectrule of an external code of manners. An educated man who acts thus ismerely a man _in himself_, merely a man of "healthy mind. " It is, in fact, only disease which can disintegrate the personalityorganized upon its adaptations, and induce a man of society to ceaseto act in a becoming manner; it is well known that a neurasthenicsubject who begins to show the first symptoms of paranoia, may atfirst seem to be merely one who fails in good breeding. But he, on the other hand, who remains within the limits of goodbreeding, is nothing more than a _normal man_. We will not venture tocall him "a man of will"; the consciousness of such a man is alwaysbeing put to the test, and the mechanisms stored up in the margin ofconsciousness no longer possess a "volitive value. " But the child is making his first trial of arms, and his personalityis a very different thing from that just described. In comparison withthe adult, he is an unbalanced creature, almost invariably the prey ofhis own impulses and sometimes subject to the most obstinateinhibitions. The two opposite activities of the will have not yetcombined to form the new personality. The psychical embryo has stillthe two elements separate. The great essential is that this"combination, " this "adaptation, " should take place and establishitself as a supporting girdle at the margin of consciousness. Hence itis necessary to induce active exercise as soon as possible, since thisis essential to such a degree of development. The aim in view is notto make the child a little precocious "gentleman, " but to induce himto exercise his powers of volition, and to bring about as soon aspossible the reciprocal contact of impulses with inhibitions. It isthis "construction" itself which is necessary, not the result whichmay be achieved externally by means of this construction. It is, in fact, merely a means to an end: and the end is that thechild should act together with other children, and practise thegymnastics of the will in the daily habits of life. The child who isabsorbed in some task, inhibits all movements which do not conduce tothe accomplishment of this work; he makes a selection among themuscular coordinations of which he is capable, persists in them, andthus begins to make such coordinations permanent. This is a verydifferent matter to the disorderly movements of a child giving way touncoordinated impulses. When he begins to respect the work of others;when he waits patiently for the object he desires instead of snatchingit from the hand of another; when he can walk about without knockingagainst his companions, without stamping on their feet, withoutoverturning the table--then he is organizing his powers of volition, and bringing impulses and inhibitions into equilibrium. Such anattitude prepares the way for the habits of social life. It would beimpossible to bring about such a result by keeping childrenmotionless, seated side by side; under such conditions "relationsbetween children" cannot be established, and infantile social lifedoes not develop. It is by means of free intercourse, of real practise which obligeseach one to adapt his own limits to the limits of others, that social"habits" may be established. Dissertations on what ought to be donewill never bring about the construction of the will; to make a childacquire graceful movements, it will not suffice to inculcate "ideas ofpoliteness" and of "rights and duties. " If this were so, it wouldsuffice to give a minute description of the movements of the handnecessary in playing the piano, to enable an attentive pupil toexecute a sonata by Beethoven. In all such matters the "formation" isthe essential factor; the powers of will are established by exercise. In education, it is of very great value to organize all the mechanismuseful in the production of personality at an early stage. Just as_movement_, the _gymnastics_ of children, is necessary, because, as iswell known, muscles which are not exercised become incapable ofperforming the variety of movements of which the muscular system iscapable, so an analogous system of gymnastics is necessary to maintainthe activity of the psychical life. The uneducated organism may be easily directed towards subsequentdeficiencies; he who is weak of muscle is inclined to remainmotionless, and so to perish, when an action is necessary to overcomedanger. Thus the child who is weak of will, who is "hypobulic" or"abulic, " will readily adapt himself to a school where all thechildren are kept seated and motionless, listening, or pretending tolisten. Many children of this kind, however, end in the hospital fornervous disorders and have the following notes on their schoolreports: "Conduct excellent; no progress in studies. " Of such childrensome teachers confine themselves to such a remark as: "They are sogood, " and by this they tend to protect them from any intervention, and leave them to sink undisturbed into the weakness which threatensto engulf them like a quicksand. Other children, whose naturalimpulses are strong, are noted merely as creators of disorder, and areset down as "naughty. " If we enquire into the nature of theirnaughtiness, we shall be told almost invariably that "they will neverkeep still. " These turbulent spirits are further stigmatized as"aggressive to their companions, " and their aggressions are nearlyalways of this kind: they try by every possible means to rouse theircompanions from their quiescence, and draw them into an association. There are also children in whom the inhibitory powers are dominant;their timidity is extreme: they sometimes seem as if they cannot makeup their minds to answer a question; they will do so after someexternal stimulus, but in a very low voice, and will then burst intotears. The necessary gymnastic in all these three cases is free action. Theconstant and interesting movement of others is the best of incitementsto the abulic; motion directed into the channel of orderly exercisedevelops the inhibitory powers of the too impulsive child, and thechild who is too much in subjection to his inhibitory powers, whenliberated from the bondage of surveillance, and free to act privatelyon his own initiative--in other words, when he is removed from allexternal inducements to exercise inhibition, is able to find anequilibrium between the two opposite volitional forces. This is indeedthe way of salvation for all men: that wherein the weak gain strengththat wherein the strong attain perfection. The want of balance as between impulse and inhibition is not only afamiliar and interesting fact in pathology; it is further met with, though in a minor degree, among _normal_ persons, just as frequentlyas deficiencies of education are to be met with in the external socialsphere. Impulse leads criminals to commit evil actions against other men; buthow often normal persons have to regret thoughtless acts and nervousoutbursts which have sad consequences to themselves! For the most partthe normal impulsive person harms himself only, compromises hiscareer, and is unable to bring his talents to fruition; he suffersfrom a conscious servitude, as from a misfortune from which he mightperhaps have been saved. He who is pathologically the victim of his own powers of inhibition iscertainly the more unhappy sufferer; he remains immobile and silent;but internally he longs to move. A thousand impulses which can find nooutlet torture the soul which aspires to art, to work; and eloquentspeech on his own misfortunes would fain flow from his lips to implorehelp from a physician, or comfort from some lofty soul; but his lipsare sealed. He feels the horrible oppression of one buried alive. Buthow many normal persons suffer from something of the same kind! Onsome propitious occasion in their lives they ought to have comeforward and shown their worth, but they were unable to do so. Athousand times they have thought that a sincere expression of feelingmight have straightened out a difficult situation; but the heart hasclosed and the lips have remained mute. How passionately they havelonged to speak to some noble soul who would have understood them, illuminated and comforted them! But when they have been face to facewith this person, they have been unable to speak a word. Thelonged-for individual encouraged them, questioned them, urged them toexpress themselves, but the sole response to the invitation was aninternal anguish. Speak! Speak! said impulse in the depths of theirconsciousness; but inhibition was inexorable as a resistless materialforce. It is in the education of the will by means of free exercises whereinthe impulses balance the inhibitions that the cure of such subjectsmight be found, provided such a cure could be undertaken at the agewhen the will is in process of formation. * * * * * Such an equilibrium established as a mechanism at the margin ofconsciousness, which makes a man of the world "correct" in hisconduct, is by no means that which constitutes the "person of will. "It has been said above that the consciousness remains free for othervoluntary requirements. The most refined and aristocratic lady mightnevertheless be a person "without will" and "without character, "although she might have acquired the most rigorous mechanismsproductive of a mechanical will directed solely to external objects. There is a voluntary fundamental quality upon which not only are thesuperficial relations between man and man based, but on which the veryedifice of society is erected. This quality is known as "continuity. "The social structure is founded upon the fact that men can worksteadily and produce within certain average limits on which theeconomic equilibrium of a people is constructed. The social relationswhich are the basis of the reproduction of the species are foundedupon the continuous union of parents in marriage. The family andproductive work: these are the two pivots of society; they rest uponthe greatest volitive quality: constancy, or persistence. This quality is really the exponent of the uninterrupted concord ofthe inner personality. Without it, a life would be a series ofepisodes, a chaos; it would be like a body disintegrated into itscells, rather than an organism which persists throughout the mutationsof its own material. This fundamental quality, when it embraces thesentiment of the individual and the direction of his ideation, that isto say, his whole personality, is what we have called _character_. Theman of character is the persistent man, the man who is faithful to hisown word, his own convictions, his own affections. Now the sum of these various manifestations of constancy has anexponent of immense social value: persistence in work. The degenerate, even before he gave way to criminal impulse, before hebetrayed the inconstancy of his affections, before he broke his word, before he made havoc of all the convictions that ennoble the soul ofman, had a certain stigma which marked him as one lost anddisintegrated: this was laziness, incapacity to persist in work. Directly an honest and well-behaved man begins to suffer frombrain-disease, before he shows any violent impulses, disorder inconduct, or signs of delirium, he has a premonitory symptom: he can nolonger apply himself to work. Among the masses, it is justly thoughtthat a girl will make a good wife when she is industrious, and a manis said to be an honest fellow and one who can offer good prospects tothe girl who is to be his wife, when he is a good workman. This_goodness_ is not a matter of ability; it implies steadiness, perseverance. For instance, a pseudo-artist of great skill inproducing small artistic objects, but lacking the will to work, wouldnot be considered a good match. Every one knows that he is not onlyincapable of economic production, but that he is a suspicious anddangerous character, that he might become a bad husband, a bad father, a bad citizen. On the other hand, the humblest artisan who "works"undoubtedly contains within himself all the elements which make forhappiness and security in life. This unquestionably was the meaning ofthe great Roman encomium: "She stayed indoors and spun the wool, " thatis to say, she was a woman of character, a worthy companion for theconquerors of the world. Now the little child who manifests perseverance in his work as thefirst constructive act of his psychical life, and upon this act buildsup internal order, equilibrium, and the growth of personality, demonstrates, almost as in a splendid revelation, the true manner inwhich man renders himself valuable to the community. The little childwho persists in his exercises, concentrated and absorbed, is obviouslyelaborating the constant man, the man of character, the man who willfind in himself all human values, crowning that unique fundamentalmanifestation: persistence in work. Whatever task the child maychoose it will be all the same, provided he persists in it. For whatis valuable is not the work itself, but the work as a means for theconstruction of the psychic man. He who interrupts the children in their occupations in order to makethem learn some pre-determined thing; he who makes them cease thestudy of arithmetic to pass on to that of geography and the like, thinking it is important to direct their culture, confuses the meanswith the end and destroys the man for a vanity. That which it isnecessary to direct is not the culture of man, but the man himself. * * * * * If persistence be the true foundation of the will, we neverthelessrecognize _decision_ as the act of the will _par excellence_. In orderto accomplish any conscious act whatever, it is necessary that weshould decide. Now a _decision_ is always the result of a _choice_. Ifwe have several hats, we must decide which one we will put on when wego out; it may not in the least matter whether it be the brown hat orthe gray, but we must choose one of them. For such a choice we musthave our motives, whether they be in favor of the gray or the brown;but finally one of the motives will prevail and the choice will bemade. Obviously, the habit of taking a hat and going out willfacilitate our choice; we are almost unconscious which of the motivesstirred and struggled within us. It is the question of a minute andleaves no impression of effort. Our knowledge as to which hat will besuitable for the morning or the afternoon, for the theater or forsport, saves us from any mental conflict. But this will not be the case if, for instance, we are about to spenda certain sum of money on a present. What shall we buy among thevarious objects from which it will be possible to choose? If we haveno very definite knowledge of the things, our task may become ananxiety. We should like to choose something artistic, but we do notknow much about art, and we fear to be deceived and so to cut a sorryfigure; we know not what is customary and have no idea whether a pieceof lace or a silver bowl would be suitable. We then feel the need ofsome one to enlighten us as to all these unknown details, and we go toask advice. It does not, however, follow that we shall take the advicewe receive. To tell the truth, the advice was to deal with ourignorance; we required an aid to knowledge rather than an incitementto an effort of the will. Volition is something which we jealouslyreserve for ourselves, and is a very different matter from theknowledge indispensable to a decision. The choice which we make afterthe advice of one or more persons will bear our own impress, it willbe the decision of our _ego_. The choice which the mistress of a house will make to prepare a dinnerfor guests is of the same nature; but there she has a perfectknowledge of the subject, and good taste, and the decision will bemade with pleasure and without any extraneous aid. But who does not know that in every case this making a decision is an_internal labor_, a genuine effort; so much so that persons of feeblewill try to avoid it, as a thing irksome to them. If possible, themistress of the house will leave the decisions to the cook, and to adressmaker all the arguments necessary to make one of the many motivesthat come into play in the choice of a gown prevail over the rest; thedressmaker, seeing that a decision will only be reached after longhesitation, will say at a certain moment: Choose this which suits youso well, and the lady will agree, more to evade the effort of adecision than because the garment pleases her. Our entire life is acontinual exercise of decisions. When we go out of the house afterhaving locked the door, we have a clear consciousness of this act, acertainty that the house is well protected, and we _decide_ to stepout and walk away from it. The stronger we are in such exercises, the more independent we shallbe of others. Clarity of ideas, the mechanism of the habit ofdecision, give us a sense of liberty. The heaviest chain, which maybind us in a humiliating form of slavery, is an incapacity to make ourown decisions, and the consequent need to refer to others; the fear ofmaking "a mistake, " the sense of groping in the dark, of having tobear the consequences of an error we are not certain to recognize, makes us run behind another person like a dog on a chain. Finally, weshall fall into an extremity of dependence; we shall no longer be ableto despatch a letter or buy a pocket-handkerchief without askingadvice. But when an actual conflict arises in such a consciousness, and thedecision has to be instantaneous, irresolution is the portion of onewhose weakness has placed him in subjection to another stronger will, and then we behold a subjection which has almost imperceptibly becomean incubus: the victim has taken the first step towards an abyss wherethe feeble in will run the risk of perdition. Thus the more the youngare placed in subjection, without power to exercise their own wills, the more easily do they fall a prey to the perils of which the worldis full. That which gives strength to resist is not the _moral vision_, it isthe _exercise of will-power_; and this exercise is to be found in theroutine of life itself. The mother of a family, much occupied in hermission of domestic work, and accustomed to decide in all matterspertaining to the daily round, is more likely to gain the victory inthe event of moral conflict than a childless woman who lives in anenervating atmosphere of domestic idleness, and has accustomed herselfto accept her husband's will as her own. Yet both of these women mighthave the same moral vision. The first-mentioned, if left a widow, might make herself conversant with business and carry on theundertaking managed by her husband; but the second in likecircumstances would require tutelage, and would run every risk ofdisaster. To ensure moral salvation, it is primarily necessary to_depend_ on oneself, because in the moment of peril we are _alone_. And strength is not to be acquired instantaneously. He who knows thathe will have to fight, prepares himself for boxing and dueling bystrength and skill; he does not sit still with folded hands, becausehe knows that he will then either be lost or he will have to depend, like the shadow of a body, on some one to protect him step by stepthroughout his life, which in practise is impossible. One single moment served to conquer us, says Francesca, in Dante's _Inferno_. Temptation, if it is not to conquer, must not fall like a bomb againstanother bomb of instantaneous moral explosions, but against the strongwalls of an impregnable fortress strongly built up, stone by stone, beginning at that distant day when the foundations were first laid. Persistent work, clarity of ideas, the habit of sifting conflictingmotives in the consciousness, even in the minutest actions of life, decisions taken every moment on the smallest things, the gradualmaster over one's actions, the power of self-direction increasing bydegrees in the sum of successively repeated acts, these are the stoutlittle stones on which the strong structure of personality is builtup. This may then be inhabited by morality, as by a princess who livesamong the embattled towers and moats of a medieval fortress that is ina perpetual state of defense, always under arms, but with everyprobability of remaining the "lady, " the "_châtelaine_. " If to "buildup the house" which morality will inhabit, some mastery of the body isalso necessary, such as abstinence from alcohol, which is the chiefexample of poison taken from without and tending to weaken, andmovement in the open air, which facilitates material recuperation byfreeing us from the poisons which we ourselves manufacture and whichweaken us, how much more essential must be the continual exercise ofthe will as a vivifying means of psychical recuperation? Our little children are constructing their own wills when, by aprocess of self-education, they put in motion complex internalactivities of comparison and judgment, and in this wise make theirintellectual acquisitions with order and clarity; this is a kind of"knowledge" capable of preparing children to form their own decisions, and one which makes them independent of the suggestions of others;they can then _decide_ in every act of their daily life; they decideto take or not to take; they decide to accompany the rhythm of a songwith movement; they decide to check every motor impulse when theydesire silence. The _constant work_ which builds up their personalityis all set in motion by _decisions_; and this takes the place of theprimitive state of _chaos_, in which, on the other hand, _actions_were the outcome of _impulses_. A voluntary life develops graduallywithin them; and doubt and timidity disappear, together with thedarkness of the primitive mental confusion. Such a development of the will would be impossible if, instead ofallowing order and clarity to mature in the mind, we should seek toencumber it with chaotic ideas, or with stores of lessons learnt byheart, and then prevent children from making decisions by decidingeverything for them. Teachers who adopt these methods are justified insaying that "a child ought not to have a will of his own, " and inteaching him that "there is no such plant as 'I will. '" Indeed, theyprevent the infantine will from developing. Under such conditionschildren are conscious of a power which inhibits all their actions;they become timid, and have no courage to undertake anything withoutthe help and consent of the person on whom they depend entirely. "Whatcolor are these cherries?" a lady once asked a child, who knew quitewell that they were red. But the timid, nervous child, doubtful as towhether it would be right or wrong to answer, murmured: "I will ask myteacher. " The volitive mechanism which prepares for decision is one of the mostimportant mechanisms of the will; it is valuable in itself, and shouldbe established and strengthened in itself. Pathology illustrates itfor us apart from the other factor of the will, and thus places itbefore our eyes as a pillar of the great vault which supports thehuman personality. The so-called "mania of doubt" is one of the mostfrequent phases in the degenerative forms of psychopathy, andsometimes precedes certain obsessions, which urge the sufferer onirresistibly to the commission of immoral or harmful acts. But theremay also be a mania of doubt simple and genuine, which is confined tothe impossibility of taking a decision, and which produces a seriousstate of distress, though it induces no moral lapses, and may evenarise from a moral scruple. In a hospital for nervous disorders I onceencountered a characteristic case of the "mania of doubt" which had amoral basis. The patient was a man whose business it was to go roundto houses collecting refuse; he was seized with misgivings lest someuseful object should have accidentally fallen into the rubbish-baskets, and that he would be suspected of appropriating it. Hereupon theunhappy man, just when he was about to go off with his load, climbedall the stairs again, and knocked again at all the doors, askingwhether something valuable might not perhaps have chanced to be in thebaskets. Going away after assurances to the contrary, he would returnand knock again, and so on. In vain he applied to the doctor for somemeans of strengthening his will. We told him repeatedly that there wasnothing of any value in the baskets, that he might be quite easy onthis point, and carry on his business without any preoccupations. Thena gleam of hope shone in his eyes. "I may be quite easy!" he repeated, going away. In a minute he was back again. "Then I may really beeasy?" In vain we reassured him. "Yes, indeed, quite easy. " His wifeled him away, but from the window we saw the man stop at a certainpoint in the street, struggle with her, and come back in greatagitation. Once more he appeared at the door to ask: "I may be quiteeasy then?" But how often normal persons harbor in their minds the germs of such amania! Here, for instance, is a person who is going out; he locks thedoor and shakes it; but when he has gone a few steps he is assailed bydoubt: did he fasten the door? He knows that he did, he perfectlyremembers having shaken it, but an irresistible impulse makes him goback to see if the door is really fastened. There are children who, before getting into bed at night, always look under it to see if thereare any animals there--cats, for instance; they see there are none, and quite understand there are none. Nevertheless, after a while theyget out again "to see if there is anything. " These germs are carriedabout enclosed like tubercular bacilli in some tiny lymphatic gland;the whole organism is weak. But the mischief is hidden and causes nouneasiness, just as the pallor of the face may be concealed for a timeby rouge. If we consider that the will must manifest itself in actions which thebody must carry out effectively, we shall understand that a formativeexercise is necessary to develop it by means of its mechanisms. There is a perfect parallel between the formation of the will and thecoordination of movement of its physiological structure, the striatedmuscles. It is evident that exercise is necessary to establishprecision in our movements. We know that we cannot learn to dancewithout preliminary exercises, that we cannot play the piano withoutpractising the movements of the hand; but prior to this, thefundamental coordination of movements, that is to say, ambulation andprehension, must have already been established from infancy. It is notyet so evident to us that similar gradual preparations are necessaryto develop the will. In the purely physiological functions of the muscular apparatus, ourvoluntary muscles do not all act in the same manner, but rather in twoopposite senses; some, for instance, serve to thrust the arm out fromthe body, others to draw it near; some serve to bend, others tostraighten the knee; they are, that is to say, "antagonistic" in theiraction. Every movement of the body is the result of a combinationbetween antagonistic muscles, in which now one, now the other prevailsin a kind of collaboration by which the greatest diversity ofmovements is made possible to us: movements energetic, graceful, elegant. It is thus we are enabled to establish not only a nobleattitude of the body, but a delightful motor correspondence withmusical rhythm. To bring about this intimate combination between antagonistic forces, all that is necessary is exercise in movement. True, we can _educate_movement; but this only after the natural coordination has alreadytaken place; then we can "provoke" special movements as in sportinggames, dances, etc. , which movements must, however, be repeatedlyexecuted by the performer himself in order to produce in him thepossibility of new combinations of movement. Not only in the case ofmovements of grace and agility, but also in those of strength, it isnecessary that the performer himself should act repeatedly. The willcertainly comes into play here: the performer wishes to devote himselfto sport, or to dancing, or to the arts of self-defense, to compete inmatches, etc.... But in order to _will_ this it is necessary that heshould have practised continually, thus making ready the apparatus onwhich the volitive act will finally depend, and to which it will issueits commands. Movement is always voluntary, both when the firstmovements established by "muscular coordination" take place, and whenexercises designed to produce fresh combinations of movements (skill)follow each other--as, in short, when the will acts like a commanderwhose orders are carried out by a well organized, disciplined, andhighly skilled army. Voluntary action, in respect of its "powers, "increases in degree as its dependent muscles perfect themselves and soachieve the necessary conditions for seconding its efforts. It would certainly never occur to any one that in order to educate thevoluntary motility of a child, it would be well first of all to keepit absolutely motionless, covering its limbs with cement (I will notsay fracturing them!) until the muscles become atrophied and almostparalyzed; and then, when this result had been attained, that it wouldsuffice to read to the child wonderful stories of clowns, acrobats andchampion boxers and wrestlers, to fire him by such examples, and toinspire in him an ardent desire to emulate them. It is obvious thatsuch a proceeding would be an inconceivable absurdity. And yet we do something of the same kind when, in order to educate thechild's "will, " we first of all attempt to annihilate it, or, as wesay, "break" it, and thus hamper the development of every factor ofthe will, substituting ourselves for the child in everything. It is by_our_ will that we keep him motionless, or make him act; it is we whochoose and decide for him. And after all this we are content to teachhim that "to will is to do" (_volere è potere_). And we present to hisfancy, in the guise of fabulous tales, stories of heroic men, giantsof will, under the illusion that by committing their deeds to memory avigorous feeling of emulation will be aroused and will complete themiracle. When I was a child, attending the first classes of the elementaryschools, there was a kind teacher who was very fond of us. Of course, she kept us captive and motionless on our seats, and talkedincessantly herself, though she looked pale and exhausted. Her fixedidea was to make us learn by heart the lives of famous women, andmore especially "heroines, " in order to incite us to imitate them; shemade us study an immense number of biographies; in order todemonstrate to us all the possibilities of becoming illustrious andalso to convince us that it was not beyond our powers to be heroines, since these were so numerous. The exhortation which accompanied thesenarratives was always the same: "You, too, should try to becomefamous; would not you, too, like to be famous?" "Oh, no!" I answeredone day, drily; "I shall never do so. I care too much for the childrenof the future to add yet another biography to the list. " * * * * * The unanimous reports of the educationists from all parts of the worldwho attended the last pedagogic and psychological internationalcongresses lamented the "lack of character" in the young asconstituting a great danger to the race. But it is not that characteris lacking in the race; it is that school distorts the body andweakens the spirit. All that is needed is an act of liberation; andthe latent forces of man will then develop. The manner in which we are to make use of our strong will is a higherquestion, which, however, can rest only upon one basis: that the willexists--that is, has been developed, and has become strong. One of theexamples usually given to our children, to teach them to admirestrength of will, is that of Vittorio Alfieri, who began to educatehimself late in life, overcoming the drudgery of the rudiments by agreat effort. He, who had hitherto been a man of the world, set towork to study the Latin grammar, and persevered until he became a manof letters, and, in virtue of his ardent genius, one of our greatestpoets. The phrase by which he explained his transformation is just thephrase every child in Italy has heard quoted by his teachers: "Iwilled, perpetually I willed, with all my strength I willed. " Now, before he made the great "decision, " Vittorio Alfieri was thevictim of a capricious society lady whom he loved. Alfieri felt thathe was ruining himself by remaining the slave of his passion; aninternal impulse urged him to raise himself; he felt the great manlatent within him, full of powers not yet developed, but potential andexpansive; he would fain have turned them to account, responded totheir inner call, and dedicated himself to them; but then a scentednote from the lady would summon him to join her in her box at theplay, and the evening would be wasted. The power this lady exercisedover him overcame his own will, which would gladly have resisted. Nevertheless, the rage and weariness he endured as he sat through thesilly performances at the theater caused him such acute suffering thatat last he felt that he hated the fascinating lady. His determination took a material form: he resolved to create an_insurmountable_ obstacle between himself and her; he accordingly cutoff the thick plait of hair which adorned his head, the badge ofgentle birth, without which he would have been ashamed to leave thehouse; then he had himself bound with ropes to his armchair, where hespent several days in such agitation that he was unable even to read aline; it was only the material impossibility of moving, and thethought of cutting a ridiculous figure, which kept him there, in spiteof the impulse to hasten to the beloved one. It was thus that he "willed, willed perpetually, with all hisstrength, " and so left the man within him free to expand; it was thushe saved himself from futility and perdition and worked for his ownimmortality. And it is something of the same sort that we desire to bring about inour children by the education of the will; we wish them to learn tosave themselves from the vanities that destroy man, and concentrate onwork which causes the inner life to expand, and leads to greatundertakings; we wish them to work for their own immortality. This loving and anxious desire inclines us to draw them along shieldedby us. But is there not within the child himself a power which enableshim to save himself? The child loves us with all his heart and followsus with all the devotion of which his little soul is capable;nevertheless he has something within himself which governs his innerlife: it is the force of his own expansion. It is this force, forinstance, which leads him to touch things in order to becomeacquainted with them, and we say to him, "Do not touch"; he movesabout to establish his equilibrium, and we tell him to "keep still";he questions us to acquire knowledge, and we reply, "Do not betiresome. " We relegate him to a place at our side, vanquished andsubdued, with a few tiresome playthings, like an Alfieri in the box atthe theater. He might well think: Why does she, whom I love so dearly, want to annihilate me? Why does she wish to oppress me with hercaprices? It is caprice which makes her prevent me from developing theexpansive forces within me, and relegate me to a place among vain andwearisome things, merely because I love her. Thus, to save himself, the child should be a strong spirit, likeVittorio Alfieri; but too often he cannot. We do not perceive that the child is a victim and that we areannihilating him; and then we demand _everything_ from his _nullity_by a _fiat_, by an act of our omnipotence. We want the adult man, butwithout allowing him to grow. Many will think, when they read the story of Vittorio Alfieri, thatthey would have wished something more in their sons; they would havewished it to be unnecessary to set up material obstacles againsttemptation, such as the cutting off of the hair and the binding to thearmchair with ropes; and would have hoped that a spiritual force wouldhave sufficed to resist it. Like one of our great poets who, singingof the Roman Lucrezia, reproves her for having killed herself; sinceshe ought to have died of grief at the outrage, had she been even morevirtuous than she was. Now that father with the spiritual ideals would not, in allprobability, ask himself what he himself had done to enable his son tobecome strong and rise to the level of spiritual aid. Very likely heis a father who did his utmost to break the will of his son and makehim submissive to his own will. No earthly father can make the spiritrise to such heights; this can only be accomplished by the mysteriousvoice which speaks within the heart of the man in the silence. A voicewhich is strident because it is raised against the laws of Nature, like the voice of the father who wishes to subdue another creature tohimself, disturbs that "silence" where, in peace and liberty, thedivine works are being accomplished. Without the "strong man" all isvain. It is recorded that a priest once presented to Saint Teresa a younggirl who wished to become a Carmelite nun, and who, according to him, had angelic qualities. Saint Teresa, accepting the neophyte, replied:"See, my father, our Lord has given this maiden devotion, but she hasno judgment, and never will have any; and she will always be a burdento us. " One of the greatest of contemporary theologians, who during theproceedings to obtain the canonisation of Joan of Arc had made aprofound study of her personality, says, in reference to thesuggestion that she was simply the instrument of divine inspiration:"Let no one deceive himself. Joan of Arc was no blind and passiveinstrument of a supernatural power. The liberator of France _hadentire command of her personality_; she gave proof of this by herindependent action, both in decisions and in deeds. " I believe that the work of the educator consists primarily inprotecting the powers and directing them without disturbing them intheir expansion; and in the bringing of man into contact with thespirit which is within him and which should operate through him. VIII INTELLIGENCE Let us pause a moment to consider what is the "key" by means of whichwe may bring about the realization of the liberty of the child; thatkey which sets in motion the mechanisms essential to education. The child who is "free to move about, " and who perfects himself by sodoing, is he who has an "intelligent object" in his movements; thechild who is free to develop his inner personality, who perseveres ina task for a considerable time, and organizes himself upon such afundamental phenomenon, is sustained and guided by an intelligentpurpose. Without this his persistence in work, his inner formation, and his progress would not be possible. When we refrain from guidingthe subjugated child step by step, when, liberating the child from ourpersonal influence, we place him in an environment suited to him andin contact with the means of development, we leave him confidently to"his own intelligence. " His motor activity will then direct itself todefinite actions: he will wash his hands and face, sweep the room, dust the furniture, change his clothes, spread the rugs, lay thetable, cultivate plants, and take care of animals. He will choose thetasks conducive to his development and persist in them, attracted andguided by his interest towards a sensory material which leads him todistinguish one thing from another, to select, to reason, to correcthimself; and the acquirements thus made are not only "a cause ofinternal growth" but a strong propulsive force to further progress. Thus, passing from simple objects to objects of ever increasingcomplexity, he becomes possessed of a culture; moreover, he organizeshis character by means of the internal order which forms itself withinhim, and by the skill which he acquires. Therefore, when we leave the child to himself, we leave him to hisintelligence, not, as is commonly supposed, "to his instincts, "meaning by the word "instincts" those designated as animal instincts. We are so accustomed to; treat children like dogs and other domesticanimals, that a "free child" makes us think of a dog, barking, jumping, and stealing dainties. And so accustomed are we to regard asmanifestations of evil instincts the _rebellions_ of the child treatedas a beast, his obscure protests and desperations, or the protectivedevices he has to invent to save himself from such a humiliatingsituation, that, by way of elevating him, we first compare him toplants and flowers, and then actually try to keep him as far aspossible in the state of physical immobility of vegetables, subjectinghim to the same sensations, reducing him to slavery. But he neverbecomes the "plant with angelic perfume" we would fain believe him tobe; rather do signs of corruption gradually manifest themselves as his"human substance" mortifies and dies. But when we leave the child "free as a man" in the palestra of his ownintelligence, his type changes entirely. It is of this type we mustform new conceptions in discussing the question of "liberty. " That of intelligence should also, I believe, be the key to the problemof the social liberty of man. We have heard much talk of late years, of a very superficial kind, concerning "liberty of thought. " The issuebeing obscured by prejudices akin to those prevalent concerningchildren, it has been supposed that man would be "liberated" were he"abandoned" to his own thoughts. But was he capable of "thinking"? Wasnot the epoch of such "freedom" also that of cerebral neurasthenia?Was it not also that epoch when laws for extending social rights toilliterates were under discussion? Now let us take an example: if we told a sick person to choose betweendisease and health, would this make him free to do so? If we offer anuneducated peasant good and bad paper money, leaving him "free tochoose" which he will take, and he chooses the bad notes, he is notfree, he is cheated; if he chooses the good, he is not free, he islucky. He will be free when he has sufficient knowledge not only todistinguish the good from the bad, but to understand the socialutility of each. It is the giving of this "internal formation" whichmakes a man free, irrespective of a "social sanction" which is merelyan external conquest of liberty. If the liberty of man were such asimple problem, we should only need to pass a law, enabling the blindto see and the deaf to hear, in order to restore "poor humanity" tohealth. Our honesty ought to make us recognize one day that the fundamentalrights of man are those of his own "formation, " free from obstacles, free from slavery, and free to draw from his environment the meansrequired for his development. In short, it is in education that weshall find the fundamental solution of the social problems connectedwith "personality. " Deeply instructive is the revelation made to us by the children, that"the intelligence" is the key which reveals the secrets of theirformation, and is the actual means of their internal construction. The hygiene of the intelligence thus assumes cardinal importance. Whenintelligence is recognized as the means of formation, the pivot oflife itself, it can no longer be exhausted for dubious ends, oroppressed and suffocated without discernment. At a not-far-distant day, the intelligence of children must become theobject of treatment much wiser and more elaborate than that which wenow bestow on their bodies, to adjuncts of which, such as teeth, nails, and hair, we devote costly and laborious processes. When wereflect that a mother who is perfectly conscious of the dangers andremedies connected with the hair of her child, can oppress and enslavehis intelligence quite unknowingly, we are at once obliged to admitthat the new road leading to civilization must needs be a long one, ifsuch contrasts in our attitude to the superfluities and the essentialsof life are still possible at the present day. * * * * * What is intelligence? Without rising to the heights of the definitionsgiven by the philosophers, we may, for the moment, consider the sum ofthose reflex and associative or reproductive activities which enablethe mind to construct itself, putting it into relation with theenvironment. According to Bain, the consciousness of difference is thebeginning of every intellectual exercise; the first step of the mindis appreciation of "distinction. " The bases of its perceptivefunctions towards the external world are the "sensations. " To collectfacts and distinguish between them is the initial process inintellectual construction. Let us try to infuse a little more precision and clarity into theanalysis of intelligence. The first characteristic which presents itself to us as an indicationof intellectual development is related to _time_. The masses are somuch alive to this primitive characteristic, that the popularexpression "quick" is synonymous with intelligent. To be rapid inreacting to a stimulus, in the association of ideas, in the capacityof formulating a judgment--this is the most obvious externalmanifestation of intelligence. This "quickness" is certainly relatedto the capacity for receiving impressions from the environment, elaborating images, and externalizing the internal results. All theseactivities may be developed by means of an exercise comparable to asystem of mental "gymnastics" to collect numerous sensations, to putthem constantly in relation one with another, to deduce judgmentstherefrom, to acquire the habit of manifesting these freely, all thisought, as the psychologists would say, to render the conductivechannels and the associative channels more and more permeable, and the"period of reaction" ever briefer. As in intelligent muscularmovement, the repetition of the act not only renders it more perfectin itself, but more rapid in execution. An intelligent child at schoolis not only one who understands, but one who understands quickly. Onthe other hand, one who learns the same things, but who takes a longertime in so doing, say two years instead of one, is _slow_. Of a"quick" child, the people say that "nothing escapes him"; hisattention is always on the alert, and he is ready to receive everykind of stimulus: as a sensitive scale will show the slightestvariation in weight, so the sensitive brain will respond to theslightest appeal. It is Equally rapid in its associative processes:"He understands in a flash" is a familiar saying to indicate accurateconception. Now an exercise which "puts in motion" the intellectual mechanismscan only be an "auto-exercise. " It is impossible that another person, exercising himself in our stead, should make us acquire skill. The sensory exercises arouse and intensify the central activities inour children. When, sense and stimulus duly isolated, the child hasclear perceptions in his consciousness; when sensations of heat, cold, roughness, smoothness, weight, and lightness, when a sound, anisolated noise, are perceived by him, when, in almost completesilence, he closes his eyes and waits for a voice to murmur a word, itis as if the external world had knocked at the door of his soul, awakening its activities. And further, when the multitudinoussensations are all contained in the richness of the environment, thetwo react harmoniously one upon the other, intensifying the activitiesthat have been awakened: this is exemplified in the case of the childabsorbed in coloring his designs, who will choose the most beautifultints while music is being played, or in that of another who, contemplating the gay and gracious environment of the school and theflowering plants, will sing his song to perfection. The first characteristic which manifests itself in our children, aftertheir process of auto-education has been initiated, is that theirreactions become ever more ready and more rapid: a sensory stimuluswhich might before have passed unobserved or might have roused alanguid interest, is vividly perceived. The relation between things iseasily recognized, and thus errors in their use are quickly detected, judged, and corrected. By means of the sensory gymnastics the childcarries out just this primordial and fundamental exercise of theintelligence, which _awakens and sets in motion_ the central nervousmechanisms. When we see these external manifestations of our quick and activechildren--sensitive to the slightest call, ready to run swiftlytowards us without relaxing the attention they give to their ownmovements and to all the external objects they encounter--and comparethem with the torpid children in the ordinary schools--clumsy in theirmovements, indifferent to stimuli, incapable of spontaneousassociation of ideas--we are led to think of the civilization of ourown days as compared with that of olden times. The civil environmentof bygone years, as compared with our own, was more leisurely: we havelearnt how to save time. The stage-coach was once the means oftransport, whereas now we travel in motor-cars and even in aeroplanes;the voice was the medium of speech from a distance, whereas now wespeak through the telephone; men killed each other one by one, whereasnow they kill each other _en masse_. All this makes us realize thatour civilization is not based upon "respect for life" and "respect forthe soul, " but rather is it based upon "respect for time. " It issolely in an external sense that civilization has pursued its course. It has become more rapid, it has set in motion _machinery_. But man has not had the same preparation to keep up with it:individuals have not _accelerated_ themselves methodically; thechildren of this bewildering environment are not new men, more active, readier, more intelligent. The transformed human personality has notyet arisen ready to meet all eventualities and to utilize for his ownbenefit the external conquests of his environment. Torpid man savestime and money in this civilization; but his soul remains defraudedand oppressed. If he does not rise to the task of reforming himself in harmony withthe new world he has created, he runs the risk of being some dayoverthrown and crushed by it. * * * * * The swift reactions occurring among our children are not merely anexternal manifestation of the intelligence. They are related not onlyto the _exercise_, but also to the _order_ which has been establishedwithin: and it is this intimate work of rearrangement which is initself a more exact indication of intellectual formation. Order is, in short, the true key to rapidity of reaction. In a chaoticmind, the recognition of a sensation is no less difficult than theelaboration of a reasoned discourse. In all things, social as well asothers, it is organization and order which make it possible to proceedrapidly. "To be able to distinguish" is the characteristic sign ofintelligence: to _distinguish_ is to arrange and also, in life, it isto prepare for "creation. " Creation finds its expansion in _order_. We find this conception inthe Genesis of Scripture. God did not begin to create withoutpreparation; and this preparation was the introduction of order intochaos. "And God divided the light from the darkness. And he said: Letthe waters be gathered together into one place, and let the dry landappear. " The consciousness may possess a rich and varied content; butwhen there is _mental confusion_, the intelligence does not appear. Its appearance is exactly like the kindling of a light which makes itpossible to distinguish things clearly: "Let there be light. " Thus we may justly say that to help the development of theintelligence is to help to put the images of the consciousness inorder. We ought to think of the mental state of the little child of threeyears old, who has already looked upon a world. How often he hasfallen asleep utterly weary from having seen so many things. It hasnot occurred to any one that for him to walk is, in fact, to work;that seeing and hearing, when the organs are not as yet accommodated, so that he is obliged to be perpetually correcting the errors of hissenses, and verifying with his hand what he cannot as yet appraisecorrectly with his eye, is a great exertion. Hence the little one whois over-taxed by stimuli, in places where these abound, cries or fallsasleep. The little child of three years old carries within him a heavy_chaos_. He is like a man who has accumulated an immense quantity of books, piled up without any order, and who asks himself "What shall I do withthem?" When will he be able to arrange them in such fashion as toenable him to say: "I possess a library"? By means of our so-called "sensory exercises" we make it possible forthe child to _distinguish_ and to _classify_. Our sensory material, infact, analyses and represents the attributes of things: dimensions, forms, colors, smoothness or roughness of surface, weight, temperature, flavor, noise, sounds. It is the qualities of theobjects, not the objects themselves which are important; althoughthese qualities, isolated one from the other, are themselvesrepresented by objects. For the attributes long, short, thick, thin, large, small, red, yellow, green, hot, cold, heavy, light, rough, smooth, scented, noisy, resonant, we have a like number ofcorresponding "objects" arranged in graduated series. This gradationis important for the establishment of order; indeed, the attributes ofthe objects differ not only in quality, but also in quantity. They maybe more or less high or more or less low, more or less thick or moreor less thin; the sounds have various tones; the colors have variousdegrees of intensity; the shapes may resemble each other in varyingdegrees; the states of roughness and smoothness are by no meansabsolute. The material for the education of the senses lends itself to thepurpose of distinguishing between these things. First of all itenables the child to ascertain the _identity_ of two stimuli by meansof numerous exercises in matching and fitting. Afterwards _difference_is appreciated when the lessons direct the child's attention to theexternal objects of a series: light, dark, long, short. At last he begins to distinguish the _degrees of the variousattributes_, arranging a series of objects in gradation, such as thetablets which show the various degrees of intensity of the samechromatic tone; the bells which produce the notes of an octave, theobjects which represent length in decimal proportions, or thickness incentimetric proportions, etc. These exercises, which are so attractive to children, are, as we haveseen, repeated by them indefinitely. The teacher puts the seal uponeach acquisition with a word; thus the classification is complete, andfinally has its schedule: that is, it becomes possible to recall theattribute and its _image_ by a name. Now as we have no possible means of distinguishing things other thanby their attributes, the classification of these entails a fundamentalorder of arrangement comprehending everything. Henceforth the world isno longer a chaos for the child; his mind bears some resemblance tothe orderly shelves of a library or a rich museum; each object is inits place, in its proper category. And each acquisition he makes willbe no longer merely "stored, " but duly "allocated. " This primitiveorder will never be disturbed, but only enriched by fresh material. Thus the child, having acquired the power of distinguishing one thingfrom another, has laid the foundations of the intelligence. It isunnecessary to repeat what an internal impulse the acquired ordercontributes towards the seeking after objects in the environment;henceforth the child "recognizes" the objects which surround him. Whenhe discovers with so much emotion that the sky is blue, that his handis smooth, that the window is rectangular, he does not in realitydiscover sky, nor hand, nor window, but he discovers their position inthe order of his mind by arrangement of his ideas. And this determinesa stable equilibrium in the internal personality, which produces calm, strength, and the possibility of fresh conquests, just as the muscleswhich have coordinated their functions enable the body to maintain itsequilibrium, and to acquire that stability and security whichfacilitate all movements. This order conduces to an economy of timeand strength; like a well-arranged museum, it saves the time andstrength of inquirers. The child can therefore perform a greaterquantity of work without fatigue, and can react to stimuli in abriefer space of time. * * * * * To be able to distinguish, classify, and catalogue external things onthe basis of a secure order already established in the mind--this isat once intelligence and culture. This is, indeed, the popularconception; when an educated person can recognize an author by hisstyle, or the characteristics of the literary compositions of aperiod, he is pronounced "versed (_intelligente_) in literature. " Inthe same way we say of one who can recognize a painter by the mannerin which he lays his colors on the canvas, or fix the period of asculptor from the fragment of a bas-relief, that he is "versed(_intelligente_) in art. " The scientist is of the same type. He isable to observe things, and to give due value even to their minutestdetails; hence the differences between the characteristics of thingsare clearly perceived and classified. The scientist distinguishesobjects in accordance with the orderly content of his mind. Aseedling, a microbe, an animal or the remains of an animal, are notenigmas to him, though in themselves they may be strange to him. Wemay say the same of the chemist, the physicist, the geologist, thearchaeologist. It is not the accumulation of a direct knowledge of things which formsthe man of letters, the scientist, and the connoisseur; it is theprepared order established in the mind which is to receive suchknowledge. On the other hand, the uncultivated person has only thedirect knowledge of objects; such a person may be a lady who spends agreat part of the night reading books, or a gardener who spends hislife making material distinctions between the plants in his garden. The knowledge of such uncultured minds is not only disorderly, but itis confined to the objects with which it comes into direct contact, whereas the knowledge of the scientist is infinite, because, possessing the power of classifying the attributes of things, he canrecognize them all, and determine now the class, now therelationships, now the origins of each; facts much more profound thanthe actual things could of themselves reveal. Now our children, after the manner of the connoisseur of art and theman of science, recognize objects in the external world by means oftheir attributes and classify them; hence they are sensitive to allobjects; everything possesses a value for them. Uncultured children, on the other hand, pass blind and deaf close to things, just as anignorant man passes by a work of art or listens to a performance ofclassical music without recognition or enjoyment. The educational methods now in use proceed on lines exactly thereverse of ours; having first abolished spontaneous activity, theypresent objects with their accumulation of attributes directly to thechild, calling attention to each attribute, and hoping that from allthis mass the mind of the child will be able to abstract theattributes themselves, without any guidance or order. Thus they createin a passive being an artificial chaos, more limited than that whichthe natural world would offer. The "objective" method now in use, which consists in presenting anobject and noting all its attributes--that is, describing it, isnothing but a "sensory" variation on the customary mnemonic method;instead of describing an absent object, a present object is described;instead of the imagination alone working to effect its reconstruction, the senses intervene; this is done so that the distinctive qualitiesof the object itself should be better remembered. The passive mindreceives images, which are limited to the objects presented; and whichare "stored up" without any order. As a fact, every object may haveinfinite attributes; and if, as often happens in object-lessons, theorigins and ultimate ends of the object itself are included amongthese attributes, the mind has literally to range throughout theuniverse. If, for instance, in an object lesson on coffee, which Iheard given in a Kindergarten school, the object is described and theattention of the children directed to its size, its color, its shape, its aroma, its flavor, its temperature; and then if the teacher goeson to describe the plant and the manner in which the substance wasbrought to Europe across the ocean, and, finally, lighting aspirit-lamp, boils the water, grinds the berries and prepares thebeverage, the mind has been led to wander in infinite spaces, but thesubject has not been exhausted. For it would be possible to go on todescribe the exciting effects of coffee, caffeine, which is extractedfrom the berry, and many other things. Such an analysis would spreadlike spilt oil until finally dispersed, and the outcome would be of nouse in any way. If, indeed, we should ask a child so instructed: "Whatis coffee, then?" he might well reply: "It is such a long story that Icannot remember it. " A notion so vague (I cannot certainly say socomplete!) fatigues and encumbers the mind and can never transformitself into a dynamic excitation of similar associations. The effortsthe child makes will be, at the most, efforts of memory to recall thehistory of coffee. If associations are formed in his mind, they willbe inferior associations of contiguity: his mind will wander from theteacher who is speaking to the ocean that was traversed, to thedining-table at home on which coffee appears in cups every day; inother words, it will stray aimlessly as does the idle mind when it"allows itself" to wander from the continuity of its passiveassociations. In this kind of _reverie_ to which the minds of children givethemselves up, there is no sign of internal activity, far less of anyindividual difference. Children subjected to the object-lesson systemalways remain purely receptive beings; or, if we prefer to put it so, storehouses in which new objects are continually deposited. No activity is thus aroused and directed towards the object, in orderto recognize its qualities in such a manner that the child himselfforms an idea of it; nor can the possibility of connecting otherobjects with the first by their common characteristics arise in hismind. For in what particular does any object resemble the others? Inits use? When we associate the images of different objects by similarity, weshould extract from the whole the qualities which the objectsthemselves have in common. If, for instance, we say that tworectangular tablets are alike, we have first extracted from thenumerous qualities of these tablets such facts as that they are ofwood, that they are polished, smooth, colored, of the sametemperature, etc. , the quality relating to their _shape_. They arealike in _shape_. This may suggest a long series of objects: the topof the table, the window, etc. ; but before such a result as this canbe achieved, it is necessary that the mind should first be capable ofabstracting from the numerous attributes of these objects the qualityof _rectangular shape_. The work of the mind in this quest mustnecessarily be _active_; it analyzes the object, extracts a determinedattribute therefrom, and under the guidance of this determinedattribute makes a synthesis associating many objects by the samemedium of connection. If this capacity for the selecting of singleattributes among all those proper to the object be not acquired, association by means of similarity, synthesis, and all the higher workof the intelligence becomes impossible. Moreover, this is intellectualwork in reality, because the essential quality of the intelligence isnot to "photograph" objects, and "keep them one upon the other" likethe pages of an album, or juxtaposed like the stones in a pavement. Such a labor of mere "deposit" is an outrage on the intellectualnature. The intelligence, with its characteristic orderliness andpower of discrimination, is capable of distinguishing and extractingthe dominant characteristics of objects, and it is upon these that itproceeds to build up its internal structures. Now our children, whose minds are thus ordered in relation to theclassification of attributes by the pedagogic aid they have received, are led, not only to observe objects according to all the attributesthey have analyzed, but also to distinguish identities, differences, and resemblances; and this work renders the extraction of one of thequalities corresponding to one of the sensory groups which have beenconsidered apart, easy and spontaneous. That is to say, it will beeasy for the child thus to recognize the various qualities of anobject, to note, for instance, that certain objects are alike in form, or alike in color; because "forms" and "colors" have already beengrouped into very distinctive categories, and they therefore recallseries of objects by similarity. This classification of attributes isa kind of loadstone; it is an attractive force of a determined groupof qualities; and the objects which have this quality are attractedthereto and united one with another; this is association bysimilitude, almost of a mechanical kind. Books are of the shape ofprisms, one of our children might say; and such a pronouncement wouldbe the conclusion arrived at by a very complex mental process, were itnot that prismatic forms already existed as a well-defined series inhis mind, attracting to itself all the surrounding objects whichpossess the same character. Thus the whiteness of sheets of paper, interrupted by dark signs, may be attracted, by the colorssystematized in the mind, into a synthetic whole, which might makethe child say: Books are sheets of white printed paper. It is in this _active_ work that individual differences may manifestthemselves. What will be the group of attributes which will attractsimilar objects? And what will be the prevailing characteristic chosenfor the purpose of association by similarity? One child will note thata curtain is light green; another that the same curtain is light inweight; one will be struck by the whiteness of a hand, another by thesmoothness of its skin. For one child the window will be a rectangle;to another it is something through which the blue of the sky may beseen. The choice of prevailing characteristics made by childrenbecomes a "natural selection" harmonizing with their own innatetendencies. In like manner, a scientist will choose the characters _most useful_to his associations. An anthropologist may choose the shape of thehead to distinguish the human races, and another might choose thecutaneous pigment--either will serve the purpose. Each anthropologistmay have the most accurate knowledge of the external characteristicsof men; but the important matter consists in finding a characteristicwhich will serve as a basis for classification: that is to say, acharacteristic on which it will be possible to group numerouscharacteristics in the order of similitude. Purely practical personswould consider man from the utilitarian rather than from thescientific point of view; a maker of hats would single out thedimensions of the head from among other human characteristics; anorator would consider man from the point of view of his susceptibilityto the spoken word. But _selection_ is the fundamental necessity whichenables us to realize things; to emerge from the vague into thepractical, from aimless contemplation into the sphere of action. Every created thing in existence is characterized by the fact that ithas _limitations_. Our own psycho-sensory organization is founded upona selection. What are the functions of the senses, but to respond to adetermined series of vibrations and to no others? Thus the eye limitslight and the ear sounds. In forming the contents of the mind thefirst step is, therefore, a selection, necessarily and materiallylimited. Nevertheless, the mind imposes still further limits on theselection possible to the senses, fashioning it upon the activity ofinternal choice. Thus attention is fixed upon determined objects andnot upon all objects; and the volition _chooses_ the actions which arereally to be performed from among a multitude of possible actions. It is in like fashion that the lofty work of the intelligence isaccomplished; by an analogous action of attention and internal will, it abstracts the dominant characteristics of things, and thus succeedsin associating their images, and keeping them in the foreground ofconsciousness. It ceases to consider an immense amount of ballastwhich would render its context formless and confused. Every superiormind distinguishes the essential form from the superfluous, rejectingthe latter, and thus it is enabled to achieve its characteristic, clear, delicate, and vital activities. It is capable of extractingthat which is useful to its creative life, and thus finds in thecosmos the means of salvation. Without this characteristic activity, the intelligence cannot construct itself; it would be like anattention that wanders from thing to thing without ever fixing uponany one of them, and like a will that can never decide upon anydefinite action. "It is possible to suppose, " says James, "that a God could, withoutimpairing his activity, simultaneously behold all the minutestportions of the world. But if our human attention should be thusdissipated, we should merely contemplate all things vacuously, withoutever finding occasion to do any particular act. " It is one of the marvelous phenomena of life that it is impossible torealize anything, without determining limits; that mysterious lawwhich ordains that every living being has its "form" and "stature, "unlike the minerals, which are indefinite in form and dimensions, isrepeated in the psychical life. Its development, its auto-creation, isnothing but a determination even more precise, a progressive"concentration"; it is thus that from the primitive chaos our internalcharacteristic form is gradually shaped and chiselled. The capacity for forming a conception of a thing, for judging andreasoning, has always this foundation. When, after having noted theusual qualities of a column, we abstract the general truth that thecolumn is a support, this synthetic idea is based upon a selectedquality. Thus in the judgment we may pronounce: columns arecylindrical, we have abstracted one quality from among the many otherswe could have adduced, as, columns are cold, they are hard, they are acomposition of carbonate of lime, etc. It is only the capacity forsuch a selection which makes reasoning possible. When, for example, inthe demonstration of the theorem of Pythagoras, children handle thevarious pieces of the metal insets, they should start from the pointat which they become aware that a rectangle is equal to the rhomb, anda square is equal to the same rhomb. It is the perception of thistruth which makes it possible to go on to the following reasoning:therefore the square and the rectangle are equal to each other. If ithad not been possible to determine this attribute, the mind could nothave arrived at any conclusion. The mind has succeeded in discoveringan attribute common to two dissimilar figures; and it is thisdiscovery which may lead to a series of conclusions by means of whichthe theorem of Pythagoras will be finally demonstrated. * * * * * Now, as in the case of will, decision presupposes a methodicalexercise of the impulsive and inhibitory forces, only to be performedby the individual himself, until habits have been established, so incase of the intelligence, the individual must exercise himself in hisactivities of association and selection, guided and aided by externalmeans, until he has developed, by the definitive elimination ofcertain ideas and the choice of others, "mental habits" characteristicof the individual, characteristic of the "type. " Because, underlyingall the internal activities the mind can construct, there is, as thephenomena of attention show us, the individual tendency, the "nature. " There is, undoubtedly, a fundamental difference between understandingand learning the reasoning of others, and being able "to reason, "between learning how an artist may see the external world according tohis prevailing interest in color, harmony, and form, and actuallyseeing the external world about a fulcrum which sustains one's ownæsthetical creation. In the mind of one who "learns the things ofothers" we may find, as in a sack of old clothes hanging over theshoulders of a hawker, solutions of the problems of Euclid, togetherwith the images of Raphael's works, ideas of history and geography, and rules of style, huddled together with a like indifference and alike sensation of "weight. " While, on the other hand, he who uses allthese things for his own life, is like the person who is assisted inattaining his own welfare, his own relief, his own comfort by thosesame objects which are merely burdens when in the sack of the hawker. Such objects are, however, no longer huddled together without orderand without purpose in a closed bag, but set out in the spacious roomsof a well-ordered house. The mind which constructs may contain a greatdeal more than that mind in which pieces of knowledge are heaped up asin the bag; and in that mind, as in the house, the objects are clearlydivided one from another, harmoniously arranged, and distinctive intheir uses. Between "understanding" because another person seeks to impress uponus the explanation of a thing by speech, and "understanding" the thingof ourselves, there is an immeasurable distance; the two arecomparable to the impression made in soft wax, which will subsequentlybe effaced and replaced by other impressions, and the form chiselledin the marble by an artist, as his creation. He who understands ofhimself has an unforeseen impression; he feels that his consciousnesshas been liberated, and something luminous shines forth within him. Understanding, then, is not a matter of indifference; it is thebeginning of _something_; sometimes it is the beginning of a lifewhich renews itself within us. Perhaps no emotion is more fruitful forman than the intellectual emotion. He who makes a discovery rich inresults certainly enjoys the greatest of human felicities; but even hewho merely "understands" gets a lofty enjoyment which will risesuperior to and overcome the most acute suffering. Indeed, he who isoppressed by a misfortune, if he can be brought to differentiate hisown case from that of another, or to see a reason for his affliction, experiences relief, and a "sense of salvation. " Amidst the confuseddarkness in which he was plunged, a consoling ray of intellectuallight has reached him. The difficult matter, indeed, is to find theway of escape in the hour of darkness. When we reflect that a dog maydie of grief on the grave of his master, and that a mother can surviveon the grave of her only son, we see at once that it is the light of_reason_ which makes the difference between the two. The dog _cannotreason on the matter_; it may die because no light can penetrate thedarkness of its intelligence to overcome the depression of its grief. But the thought of a universal justice, the living memory of the lostone which remains to us, saves the human being. And by degrees, notforgetfulness, which alone can save the animal, but the connectionwhich the intelligence establishes with the universe, restores calm tothe suffering soul. Such comfort could never be derived from the drylesson of a professor, from memorizing the theory of a savant who isnot in sympathy with the state of our soul. When we say, "to giveourselves a reason, " "to derive strength from a principle, " we implythat the ever-inquiring intelligence should be left at liberty toperform its work of reconstruction and salvation. Now if intelligence in "comprehending" may actually prove oursalvation when in danger of death, what a source of enjoyment itshould prove to man! When we talk of "the opening of the mind, " we mean a creativephenomenon, which is not the weak result of an impression violentlymade from without. The opening of the mind is the _activecomprehension_ which accompanies great emotions, and which istherefore felt as a spiritual event. I once knew a motherless girl, who was so much depressed by the aridteaching of her school, that she had become almost incapable of studyand even of understanding the things which were taught her. Her lifeof solitude, lacking in natural affection, was a further aggravationof her mental fatigue. Her father decided that she should live for ayear or two in the open country like a little savage; he then broughther back to town, and placed her under the private direction of anumber of "professors. " The girl studied and learned, but remainedpassive and weary. Every now and then her father would say: "Is yourmind opening again?" and the girl always replied: "I do not know. Whatdo you mean?" Owing to a curious coincidence in my life, this girl wasconfided to my sole care; and it was thus that I, when I was still amedical student, made my first pedagogic experiment, upon which Icannot linger now, though it would be worthy of interest. One day wewere together and when she was at work on organic chemistry, she brokeoff, and looking at me with beaming eyes, said: "Here it is now! I_do_ understand!" She then got up and went away, calling out aloud:"Father, father! My mind has opened!" I, not then knowing the girl'shistory, was astonished and agitated. She had taken her father's hand, and was saying: "Now I can tell you, yes, yes; I did not know what itmeant before; my mind has opened. " The joy of father and daughter andtheir union at that moment made me think of the joys and wellspringsof life which we destroy by enslaving the intelligence. Indeed, every intellectual conquest is a wellspring of joy to our freechildren. This is the "pleasure" to which they are now mostsusceptible, and which makes them scorn lower pleasures; it is afterhaving tasted of this that; our little ones despise sweetmeats, toys, and vanities. It is this which makes them sublime to the eyes of those whocontemplate them. Their pleasure is that lofty pleasure which distinguish man from thebrute, and can save us even from the desolation of grief and darkness. When it is made a reproach to our method that it seeks to promote the"pleasure" of the child, and that this is immoral, it is the child andnot the method which is insulted. For the essence of this reproach isthe calumny against the child, who is considered by all as on a levelwith the beasts, and whose "pleasure" is supposed to lie solely ingluttony and idleness, and worse. But none of these could keep thechild's "pleasure" alive for hours and days and years. It is only whenhe has laid hold on "humane pleasure" that he persists in it, andlives with a joy which is comparable to that of the young girl who ranto her father to proclaim the end of the darkness in which she hadlanguished for years. May it not perhaps be that those "crises, " which are to-day but theintellectual illuminations of genius when it discovers a truth, represent a natural phenomenon of psychical life? May not themanifestation of the genius be but the manifestation of a "vigorouslife, " saved from perils by its exceptional individuality, andtherefore itself alone capable of revealing the true nature of man?His type would then be the common one, and all men, in a greater orless degree, would seem to be of the same "species. " The paths thechild follows in the active "construction" of his individuality areindeed identical with those followed by the genius. Hischaracteristics are absorbed attention, a profound concentration whichisolates him from all the stimuli of his environment, and correspondsin intensity and duration to the development of spiritual activities. As in genius, this concentration is not without results, but is thesource of intellectual crises, of rapid internal developments, and, above all, of an "external activity" which expresses itself in work. We may say, then, that the genius is the man who has burst his bondsasunder, who has maintained his liberty, and who has upheld before theeyes of the multitude the standard of the humanity conquered by him. Nearly all the manifestations of those men who liberated themselvesfrom the external bondage of their times are to be noted in ourchildren. Such, for instance, is that sublime "spiritual obedience, "at present still unknown to the majority of mankind, with theexception of monks, who, however, often recognize it only in theory, and contemplate it only in the examples given by the saints; suchagain are those means necessary to the construction of a stronginternal life which form part of the preparation for the cloisteredlife in the methodical "meditations" of those about to enter upon it. No persons, with the exception of monks, practise meditation. We canhardly distinguish meditation from methods for "learning"intellectually. We know, for example, that to read a great number ofbooks consecutively, dissipates our powers and our capacity forthought; and that to learn a piece of poetry by heart means to repeatit until it is engraven on our minds: and that all this is not"meditation. " He who commits a verse of Dante to memory and he who meditates upon averse of the gospel, performs a totally different task. The cantowill "adorn" the mind on which it is impressed for a certain time, without leaving any lasting trace upon it. The verse which has beenthe subject of meditation will have a transforming and edifyingeffect. He who meditates clears his mind as far as possible of everyother image, and tries to concentrate upon the subject of meditationin such a manner that all the internal activities will be polarisedthereby: or, as the monks say, "all the powers of the mind. " The expected result of the meditation is "an internal fruit ofstrength"; the soul is strengthened and unified, it becomes active; itcan then act upon the seed around which it has concentrated and causeit to become fruitful. Now the method chosen by our children in following their naturaldevelopment is "meditation, " for in no other way would they be led tolinger so long over each individual task, and so to derive a gradualinternal maturation therefrom. The aim of the children who perseverein their work with an object, is certainly not to "learn"; they aredrawn to it by the needs of their inner life, which must be organizedand developed by its means. In this manner they imitate and carry ontheir "growth. " This is the habit by which they gradually coordinateand enrich their intelligence. As they meditate, they enter upon thatpath of progress which will continue without end. It is after an exercise of meditation on the objects that our childrenbecome capable of enjoying "the silence exercise"; and then, havingbeen rendered delicately susceptible to impressions, they try to makeno noise when they move, to refrain from awkward actions, because theyare enjoying the fruit of the "concentration" of the spirit. It is thus that their personality is unified and strengthened. Theexercise which serves as the means to this end is designed graduallyto perfect the accuracy with which they perceive the external world, observing, reasoning, and correcting the errors of the senses in asustained and spontaneous activity. It is they who act, they whochoose the objects, they who persevere in their work, they who seek towin from their environment the possibility of concentrating theirminds upon it. Each one of them moves in obedience to the motor powerwithin him. They are not disturbed by a teacher, by a being obviouslysuperior to themselves, who intimidates the shrinking poverty of thosewho are beginning life by her lofty intellectual riches, who darkensrather than illuminates, who wearies rather than refreshes; but theylive in peace with her who, almost a priestess, is yet a servant. Asin some ideal convent, humility, simplicity, and work make up theenvironment where he who meditates will some day feel within himselfthe clearness of vision, the intuition, almost the sensibility, whichmake one ready to receive the truth. To a different end, but by the same road, amidst the silence, thesimplicity, and the humility of the monastery, the spirit preparesitself to receive the faith at the outset of life. Many years ago, when I first received the impression that our childrenrevealed general principles of life which in practise we are onlyprivileged to encounter among the intellectual and spiritual _élite_of society, and that for this reason they were at the same time therevealers of a form of unconscious oppression which weighed downhumanity, deforming the inner life, I spoke at length upon the matterto an intellectual lady, who was much interested in my "theories, "and very anxious that I should make them the subject of an elaboratephilosophical treatise; but she could not bring herself to accept theidea that it was a question of an experimental process. When I spokeof the children, she showed some impatience: "Oh, yes, I quiteunderstand all about these children; in intelligence they are so manygeniuses, and in goodness so many angels. " But when, after somepersuasion, I succeeded in making her come and _see_ for herself, shetook my hands and looked earnestly in my face: "Have you neverthought, " she asked, "that you may die at any moment?... Write atonce, anyhow, in all haste, as you would write a will, a simpledescription of the facts, that you may not carry away this secret withyou to the grave. " Nevertheless, I was in excellent health. * * * * * If we examine the mental labors of men of genius to whom we owediscoveries which have opened new paths to thought, and have given usnew sources of well-being and social progress, we shall have to admitthat in themselves they cannot be described as extraordinaryprocesses, inaccessible to mediocrity. "Genius coincides with thepossession in a very high degree of the power of association bysimilarity. This is the essential quality of genius, " says Bain. Evenat the "central point" of discovery, it is only by accurateobservation and a very simple process of reasoning, of which mostpersons would consider themselves capable, that the discovery is made. At most it is due to a marshalling of "evidences" which, however, passed unnoticed by all but the discoverer. We may say that genius has the faculty of isolating a fact in theconsciousness, and of so distinguishing it from all others that it isas if a single ray of light should fall upon a diamond in a dark room. This single idea, then, causes a complete revolution in theconsciousness, and is capable of constructing something infinitelygreat and precious for all humanity. But it is the intense significance of ordinary things, and not theabnormal, which is the main factor; it is the isolation in ahomogeneous field, not the intrinsic value of the thing, whichdetermines the marvelous phenomenon. Perhaps within countlessthousands of chaotic perceptions the gem had existed, stored up amidsta multitude of useless and cumbrous objects, and had never succeededin arresting attention; meanwhile inertia continued to allow newobjects to penetrate continually within the distended and impotentwalls. After a discovery, many will perceive that they themselves heldthe same truth within them; but in this case it is not the truthitself that has value, but the man who is capable of appreciating itand bringing it into relation with action. But very often it is not the case that the newly discovered truthalready exists in the chaos of obscure consciousness; and then the newlight, simple though it be, can find no way by which to penetrate intothe mind. It is rejected as something strange and fallacious; and a certainlapse of time is necessary, a certain coordination of theintelligence, to enable the "novelty" to enter. Yet some day it willbe considered clear as crystal. It was not the "nature" of man whichshrank from it, but his "errors. " These errors not only make manincapable of production, but are in themselves hostile to receptivity. Thus it often happens that the pioneers of salvation are persecuted bya sort of unconscious ingratitude, which is the fruit of spiritualdarkness. What was the argument of Christopher Columbus? He thought: "If theearth is really round, he who starts from a certain point and advancessteadily, will return to the point of departure. " This was the _sum_of the intellectual work which enriched mankind with a new world. That a great continent should have lain in the track of Columbus, andthat he should have encountered this and not death, was the destinydue to the chance of environment. The environment sometimes rewards"small reasonings" of this kind in a surprising manner. It was certainly not a great labor of human intelligence which broughtabout these great results; it was the triumph of this idea over thewhole consciousness, and the heroic courage of the man, which gave itits value. The great difficulty, for the man who had conceived theidea, was to persevere until he could persuade others to help him inhis enterprise, to give him ships and followers. It was the _faith_and not the _idea_ of Columbus which triumphed. That simple and logical reasoning kindled within him somethinginfinitely more precious than intelligence, and enabled a single manof humble origin, and almost uneducated, to present a world to aqueen. We are told that Alessandro Volta's wife was ill with fever, and thathe, in accordance with the practise of his day, was preparing theusual febrifuge, a broth of skinned frogs; it was a rainy day, andwhen he hung up the dead frogs on the iron bar of the window, henoticed that their legs contracted. "If dead muscles contract, it mustmean that some external force has penetrated them. " This was thesimple argument of the "genius, " the "great discoverer. " And seekingthis force, Volta, by means of his piles, was able to wrest from theearth electricity, which is, literally as well as figuratively, the"gleam" of an immense progress. Laying due weight upon a little fact, such as that of a dead being having moved, considering it soberlywithout any fanciful additions, and fixing the mind upon the resultingproblem: Why does it move?--such was the lengthy process by which oneof the greatest conquests of civilization was achieved. Akin to this was Galileo's discovery, when, standing in PisaCathedral, he watched the oscillations of a hanging lamp. He observedthat the oscillations were all completed in the same space of time, and the isochronism of the pendulum was the beginning of themeasurement of time for all men, and of the measurement of worlds forthe astronomer. How simple, too, is the story of Newton, who felt an apple fall uponhim as he lay under a tree, and thought to himself: "Why did thatapple fall?" Such was the simple origin of the theory of the gravityof bodies, and that of universal gravitation. When we study of the life of Papin, we marvel at the culture whichplaced him on a level with the most learned men of his times: asphysician, physiologist, and mathematician, he was distinguished andhonored by the universities of England and Germany. Nevertheless, whatgave him his value to humanity, and hence his greatness, was the factthat his attention had been arrested by the sight of the lid of asaucepan of boiling water raised by the steam. "Steam is a force whichcould lift a piston as it lifts the cover of a saucepan, and becomethe motor power of a machine. " Papin's famous saucepan is a kind ofmagic wand in the history of mankind, which thenceforth began to workand travel without fatigue. How wonderful are such stories of greatdiscoveries arising from humble beginnings, and working miraclesthroughout the world! These, in their origins, resemble those living creatures, born of twoimperceptible microscopic cells, the fusion of which inevitably tendsto the creation of complex lives. To perceive exactly and to connectthe things perceived logically is the work of the highestintelligence. But this work is characterized by a peculiar power ofattention, which causes the mind to dwell upon a subject in a speciesof meditation, the characteristic mark of genius; the outcome is aninternal life _rich in activities_, just as the germinative cells arethe fruit of internal existences. It would seem that such mentalitiesare distinguished from those of the ordinary type, not by their form, but by their "force. " It is the vigorous life from which those twosmall intellectual sparks arise, which makes them so marvelous. Ifthey had not sprung from strong, independent personalities, capable ofpersistent effort and heroic self-sacrifice, those little intellectualworks would have remained as things inert and negligible. Hence allthat strengthens the spiritual man may lead him in the footsteps ofthe genius. Thus, as regards the intelligence in itself, the work it has toaccomplish is a small matter, but it is clearly defined, and strippedof superfluous complications. Simplicity is the guide to discovery;simplicity which, like truth, should be naked. Very little isnecessary; but this little must constitute a powerful unity; the restis vanity. And the greater this vanity, that is to say, the futile encumbrance ofthe mind, the more will the light of the spirit be darkened and itsforces dissipated, making it difficult or impossible not only toreason and act, but even to perceive reality, to see. * * * * * It would be interesting to make a rapid survey of those collectiveindividual errors by which the progress of a new discovery of a simplekind, offering relief to suffering humanity, has been impeded; errorswhich have even caused persistent denial of the existence of obviousfacts, merely because these were not generally known. Let us consider for a moment the discovery of the cause of malaria. This discovery, due to the Englishman, Ross, in connection with birds, and to the Italian, Grassi, in connection with man, consists in havingfound out that the plasmodium of malaria, which produces the malady, is inoculated in man and in the various animals subject to it, by aspecial kind of mosquito. Let us inquire what was the state of scienceprior to this discovery. In 1880 Laveran had described an animalmicro-organism, which preyed upon the red corpuscles of the blood, producing an attack of fever with the cycle of its existence. Subsequent studies confirmed and elucidated this fact, and the_plasmodium malariae_ became a matter of common knowledge. It wasknown that animal micro-organisms, unlike vegetable micro-organisms, after a cycle of life in which reproduction takes place byscission--that is, by subdivision of a single body into several otherbodies equal to the first, give place to _sexual forms_, masculine andfeminine, which are separate, and incapable of scission, but aredesigned for _fusion into one another_, after which the organismrecommences its cycle of scissions until it again reaches the sexualforms. Laveran had found that in the blood of sufferers who recoverspontaneously from malarial fever there are a great number ofcorpuscles which have no longer the rounded forms of the plasmodia, but are crescent-shaped and rayed. He took these to be transformationsof the plasmodia, "modified in form" and "incapable of producingdisease, " and pronounced them to be "degenerate" organisms, almost asif they had been deformed and exhausted by the "excess of work" theyhad previously performed. These organisms were described as "Laveran'sdegenerative forms. " After the discovery of the transmission ofmalaria in 1900, Laveran's "degenerative forms" were recognized as thesexual individuals of the reproductive cycle: individuals which wereincapable of conjugation in the blood of man, and could only producenew organisms in the body of the mosquito. We may well wonder: Why didnot Laveran simply recognize those sexual forms, and why did he notseek for the period of conjugation in the plasmodia, which were animalmicro-organisms? If he had borne in mind the complete cycle of theprotozoa, he would have recognized them. But evidently Morel'stheories of the degeneration of man had made a much livelierimpression on his imagination; and his leap from these remote theoriesto his interpretation of the plasmodia seemed an achievement of"genius. " It may be said that this "feat of genius, " this visionarygeneralization, prevented Laveran from seeing the truth. A form of_arrogance_ and _levity_ is apparent in such errors. Moreover, we are astonished by something still more serious: how cameit that hundreds and thousands of students throughout the worldaccepted Laveran's error with their eyes shut, that not one among somany took into consideration on his own account the cycle of theprotozoa, and that not one was sufficiently independent to set aboutstudying the phenomenon for himself? What is this mental form ofinertia? and why does it produce itself in man? All these disciples, heedless of the problem presented to their minds by the sexual form ofthe plasmodium, left it alone, although it had not yet been solved, and certainly had no intuition of the fame, the progress in science, and the benefit to humanity which would have been the outcome, had theproblem constituted an obstacle which had arrested their attention, saying: "Solve me. " They passed on indifferently, commending Laveran's "effort of genius, "repeating with him: They are degenerate forms. A futile effort, whichonly increased a crowd of persons who had resigned their ownindividuality all unconsciously. Another biological acquisition was the assurance that the circulatorysystem of the blood is a closed system of vessels, and that theenclosing epithelium is not permeable by non-incisive solid bodiessuch as vegetable microbes, and still less by rounded protozoa, whichare much larger than microbes and soft in substance. This well-knownand clearly demonstrated fact ought to have suggested a problem to theminds of students: How do the protozoa of malaria enter thecirculatory current of the blood? But ever since the days ofHippocrates, Pliny, Celsius and Galen it had been held that this feverwas caused by the "poisonous atmosphere" of marsh lands, the bad airof the morning and the evening, so much so that even a few yearsbefore the discovery of the real cause of malaria, eucalyptus treeswere planted in the belief that they would filter and disinfect theair. How was it that no one asked himself how it was possible that theplasmodia could enter the _current of the blood_ from the _air_? Whatwas the species of torpor which took possession of the intelligence ofpersons who had specialized in intellectual work? Here was a colossal_sum_ of intelligence, without any individuality. Until Ross discovered that birds are inoculated with malaria by aparticular kind of mosquito. And then, behold! we have at last the fundamental argument from whichthe knowledge of the truth sprang forth: "If birds are inoculated withmalaria by mosquitoes, then the same thing must happen to man. " A simple argument, which sped like an arrow to the final discovery. Nothing seemed more _incredible_ than the fact that in the malarialregions good air and fertile soil were to be found, that it waspossible to breathe that air morning and evening and remain in perfecthealth, so long as one was not bitten by mosquitoes, and that theinnumerable peasants who were wasted by malarial anemia would be savedand restored if they protected themselves by mosquito-netting. Butafter the first stupefaction, when men were convinced of the facts, there was an outcry from all the intelligent: How was it possible thatwe did not find it out before? Was not the cycle of the protozoa awell-known fact? Did not every one declare that the system ofcirculation was closed and impervious to micro-organisms? Was it notnatural to think that only a blood-sucking insect could innoculate it? How many students _felt_ that glory had passed close to them, and wereamazed and saddened by the knowledge, like the disciples of Emmäus, who said to each other when the Master disappeared before theyrecognized Him: "Did not our hearts burn within us when He spoke andexpounded the Scriptures to us?" Many must have thought: We worked so laboriously only to encumber ourminds, and yet but one thing was needful: we should have been humbleand simple, but independent. Instead, we filled our souls withdarkness, and the ray that would have made us see, could not penetrateto us. Let us take some grosser errors. As far back as the days of the Greekcivilization it was known empirically that "stones can fall from thesky. " Falls of aërolites are recorded in the most ancient Chinesechronicles. In the Middle Ages and in modern times intimations of thefall of aërolites have increased in frequency. Remarkable facts areindeed recorded in history in connection with similar phenomena: themeteorite which fell in 1492 served the Emperor Maximilian I ofGermany as a pretext to excite Christendom to a war against the Turks. Nevertheless, the phenomenon was not admitted by men of science untilthe eighteenth century. One of the largest meteorites on record wasthat which fell near Agram in 1751; it weighed about fortykilogrammes, and was deposited and catalogued in the courtmineralogical museum at Vienna. This is what Stütz, a German savant, had to say on the subject in 1790: "Those ignorant of natural historymay believe that iron has fallen from the sky, and even educated menin Germany may have believed this in 1751, taking into account theuniversal ignorance then prevalent as to natural history and physics;but in our times it would be unpardonable to admit even theplausibility of such fables. " In the same year 1790, an aërolite weighing ten kilogrammes fell inGascony. It was observed by a large number of persons, and an officialreport, signed by three hundred witnesses, was sent to the Academy ofParis. The reply was that "it had been very amusing to receive a legaldocument dealing with such an absurdity. " [7] [Footnote 7: But a great physicist, unable to share _amusement_, wrote: "It is sad to see a municipality giving credence to the babbleof the vulgar in a protocol, and to see authentic testimonies to anoccurrence which is obviously impossible. "] When, a few years later, Chladni of Wittenberg, the founder ofscientific acoustics, began to admit the phenomenon and to believe inthe existence of aërolites, he was stigmatized as "a man who wasignorant of every law and who did not consider the damage he was doingin the moral world"; and one savant declared that "if he had himselfseen iron fall from the sky at his own feet, he would not havebelieved it. " This was incredulity greater than that of St Thomas, who said: "UnlessI can touch I will not believe. " Here were pieces of iron weighing tenand forty kilogrammes, which could be touched, but the savant said:"Even if I touch them, I will not believe. " It is, therefore, not enough _to see in order to believe_; we must_believe in order to see_. It is faith which leads to sight, not sightwhich produces faith. When the blind man in the gospel uttered theanxious cry: "Make me to see, " he asked for "faith, " because he knewthat it is possible to have eyes and not to see. The fact of being insensible to evidence is little considered inpsychology, much less is it taken into account in pedagogic laws. Andyet many similar facts, though of an inferior psychological order, arenotorious, as, for instance, that stimuli will appeal in vain to thesenses, if the internal cooperation of attention be lacking. Athousand experiences of this kind enter in to make up the sum ofcommon knowledge. It is not enough that an object should be before oureyes to make us see it; it is necessary that we should fix ourattention upon it; an internal process, preparing us to receive theimpression of the stimulus, is essential. In a loftier and purely spiritual sphere something of the same kindtakes place: an idea cannot enter triumphantly into the consciousness, if it is not accompanied by a preparation of faith. Lacking this, itmay knock violently and brutally, with clamorous insistence, withoutbeing able to penetrate. It is necessary that the field ofconsciousness should be not only free, but "expectant. " He who isbewildered by a chaos of ideas cannot accept a truth which arrivesunexpectedly in the unprepared field. This fact is not only analogous to other psychical facts of lessimportance, such as that of sensory perception in relation toattention; it is also analogous to the spiritual facts which are sowell known in the field of religion. In vain will a fact, howeverremarkable, be explained or even _demonstrated_ where there is no_faith_; it is not evidence but faith which opens the mind to truth. The very senses are useless as a medium if the internal activity doesnot open the doors to receive it. When the most striking miracles ofChrist are related in the gospel, the narrative always concludes with:"And _many_ of those who saw, believed. " The parable of the invitationto the feast, to which those who were absorbed in their own affairscould not respond, seems to indicate a fact similar to thisintellectual fact, that the "preoccupations" of complicatedpre-existing ideas prevent the new and obvious truth that presentsitself, from entering in. It is for this reason that we need thePrecursor to make ready for the Messiah. And for this reason theMessiah, and also new ideas, are readily received by the "simple, " bythose who are not "laden with heavy preoccupations, " but havepreserved the natural characteristics of the spirit: to be pure andalways "expectant. " When in 1628 Harvey discovered the circulation of the blood, physiology was almost unknown, and medicine was in the full tide ofempiricism. It is well known that the Faculty of Medicine of Parisrefused to believe in circulation, in _spite of_ experiments, and thatit persecuted and calumniated Harvey. "That which pleases me in myson, " said Diafoirus, "and in which he follows my example, is, that heremains faithful to the opinions of our ancient teachers, and that hehas always refused either to _understand_ or to _listen_ to thearguments and experiments of the pretended discoveries of our century, especially as regards the circulation of the blood. " * * * * * The history of the discovery of germinative foliations in theembryonic development of vertebrates forms one of the most impressiveof human documents. In 1700 the theory of _pre-formation_ wasvigorously upheld amongst the many ideas relating to generation: thatis to say, it was believed that the germs contained little organismscompletely formed which would eventually unfold and increase the partsof infinitesimal dimensions which were packed one within the other. This theory applied to every living creature, animal, vegetable, andhuman. It had led, by its own logical development, to the morefar-reaching theory of "mutual inclusion"--that is, the doctrine that, as all living organisms are _pre-formed_, they must of necessity allhave existed from the Creation, the one included, or wrapped up, inthe other. All humanity must have lain in the ovaries of Eve. When in1690 Leuwenhoek discovered spermatozoa by the aid of the microscope, the idea was evolved that each male cell contained a completemicroscopic man, the _homunculus_; and then it was announced that notEve, but Adam had contained all humanity within himself. Hence thetwo contradictory theories which in the eighteenth century kept theiradherents sharply divided, the theories of the ovulists and those ofthe animalculists, and the dispute seemed to offer little hope of apossible decision. The names of famous scientists and philosopherswere associated with these dissensions, those, for instance, ofSpallanzani and of Liebnitz, who applied the principles of generationeven to the soul. "Thus I should think, " said Liebnitz, "that thesouls which will one day become human souls, were present in the germ;that they have always existed as organized bodies in their progenitorsfrom Adam onwards--that is, from the beginning of things. " [8] Haller, the ovulist, who had great authority as a physiologist, in afamous work, _Elementa physiologiae_, upheld the principle vigorously:"_Nulla est epigenesis. Nulla in corpore animale pars ante aliam factaest et omnes simul creatae existunt_" (nothing is created anew, nopart of the human body is made before any other part, all are createdat the same time). Making a calculation based on Biblical cosmogony ofthe number of human beings who were packed in the ovaries of Eve, hereckons them at two hundred thousand millions. Such was the state ofthought when in 1759 K. F. Wolff published some of his studies in thework _Theoria generationis_, where he maintained, on the strength ofexperiments and microscopic observations made on the embryos of fowls, that new organisms are not pre-formed, but that they create themselvesentirely, starting from nothing--that is, from a microscopic cell, simple as are all primitive cells. He described the simple process bywhich the real evolution of individuals is brought about: from asingle cell, by division, two, and then four and then eight, areformed, and so on. And the cells thus germinated divide themselvesinto two or three tiny folds of "primitive folioles" from which allthe organs are evolved, beginning with the alimentary canal. "Thisassertion, " says Wolff "is not a fanciful theory; it is a descriptionof facts collected by means of the most trustworthy observations. " [Footnote 8: From Haeckel's _Anthropogenie_. ] All the scientists of his day knew and made use of the microscope; allmight have taken an egg, that is, the embryo of a fowl, as a subjectfor observation; they were not indifferent to the problem ofindividual genesis, but in their case it had merely excited the mostcomplex efforts of the imagination, and had divided them intofactions, as adversaries in a battle of thought. Could any one of themattempt to experiment and observe save at the risk of destroyinghimself together with his adversaries, as Samson destroyed himselfwith the Philistines? The possibility that there might be some truthin what had been seen and described, and that it might recur, shouldindeed have induced some one to venture upon a road which, if itproved to be the right one, would have been a glorious path to afuture of discoveries and distinctions. But no. A dense fog obscuredall minds, and the dazzling truth could not pierce it; thus allprogress in embryology was precluded. Fifty years had passed, and Wolff, poor and persecuted, had died atPetrograd, an exile from his native land, when Pander and Ernest vonBaer grappled anew with the theory of "blastodermic foliation. " Thenthe scientific world _perceived_ the truth and accepted the evidence, inaugurating those studies in embryology which shed so much luster onthe nineteenth century. Why was it necessary that fifty years should elapse before men couldsee what was evident? What had happened in these fifty years? The workof Wolff, dead and forgotten, can have had no influence whatever. Thefact was merely that men saw _subsequently_ what it had beenpreviously _impossible for them to see_. A kind of internal maturitymust have come about in them, by virtue of which their spiritual eyeswere opened, and they saw. When _those eyes were closed_, evidence wasuseless. Fifty years earlier, a direct attack would have spent itselfon insuperable obstacles; but with the lapse of time the subjectpresented itself, and was simply and universally accepted, not onlywithout a struggle, but without any excitement. This fact might be arguable in relation to the internal maturation ofthe masses; but it is beyond question in its relation to theindividual. When an obvious truth cannot be seen, we must retire, andleave the individual to mature. A struggle "to bring about perceptionof evidence" would be bitter and exhausting. But when maturity comes, we shall find the seer filled with enthusiasm, and bearing fruit likethe vines of the Land of Promise. When in 1859 Charles Darwin expounded the theory of evolution in hisbook, "The Origin of Species, " he recognized the great influence ithad had upon the thought of his day, for he wrote in his note-book:"My theory will lead to a philosophy. " His conception of the strugglefor life and of the natural selection of characteristics, so widelyadopted by the thinkers of his day, popularized the principles ofLamarck as to the casual formation of new characteristics in a speciesby adaptation to environment; Darwin's conception carried theseprinciples along with it--and almost fused them in its own content. These principles, excluding both creation and its finalities, implicitly denied the immortality of the soul. The effect of such arevolution may be imagined; for many centuries the soul had been the_object of life_, and when the fundamental faith of existence wasshaken, the life of the conscience itself was convulsed. It may besupposed that there was an anxious search for contradictions in thedestructive theory, if on no other grounds than that of the instinctto preserve ancient beliefs, which lies deeply rooted in the humanrace. But let us take into consideration the two revolutionary principleswhich so greatly impressed and fired the consciousness of theuniversity students of several generations. One principle was: "Therecan be no function without an organ. " The other principle whichcreated much enthusiasm among studious youths was: "The functioncreates the organ. " What! There is no function without an organ, norcan the function even _exist without_ the organ; and yet, on the otherhand, the function without the organ can exist so vigorously as to_create_? No such glaring and tangible contradiction had ever existedin any theory. And it cannot be said that Darwinism and the principles of Lamarckwere hastily studied and confused in a varied series of philosophicaltheories, for Darwinism had isolated itself as a victorious idea whichdrives out all other ideas, as the light of day disperses the darknessof night. And students dwelt upon it, anxious to construct a newmorality and a new conscience; therefore these two principles were notstudied coldly and languidly. Moreover, they _penetrated together_into the consciousness and excited enthusiasm _each on its ownaccount_; on such a triumphant contradiction it was proposed todestroy a world and create another. The final conclusion of thought, then, was this: "We are mere beasts, there is no substantial difference between the animals and ourselves;we are apes, but our more remote ancestors were earthworms. " With whatardor did professors from their chairs analyze the psychology of men, to prove that, try as we may, we can find nothing in ourselves whichwe do not share with animals, and with what enthusiasm did theirpupils applaud them! When professors of psychiatry removed the brainsof pigeons and monkeys by vivisection, and, after curing thecreatures, exhibited them at international psychological congresses, devoting the most sincere attention to the study of their psychicalreactions, observing the attitudes of their bodies, their activity ofperception, and similar things--all really believed that an animalwithout a brain could throw light upon the psychology of man! When we think that this was the epoch of _positivism_--that is to say, of those who could not believe without touching, we are profoundlyimpressed by this reflection: The intelligence, then, is threatened bydangers, like the spirit. It may be obscured, it may contain acontradiction, an "error, " without perceiving it, and as a result of asingle unnoticed error it may rush into a species of delirium, amortal aberration. Like the spirit, then, it has its way of salvation, and it _needs to be sustained_ lest it should perish. The support itrequires is _not that of the senses_. Like the spirit, it needs acontinual purification, which, like the fish of Tobias, heals the eyesof their blindness. That "self-care" which the hygiene of to-dayprescribes for the body, and which makes us spend so much time even oncleaning and polishing our nails, should be extended to the inner man, that this may preserve its health and its integrity. This should be the object of "the education of the intelligence. " Toeducate the intelligence is to save it from its peculiar perils ofdisease and death; it is to "purge it of its offenses. " We shall noteducate the intelligence if we weary it by making it learn things. This is patent in these days of ours, when the victims of nervousdisorders and lunacy abound, and when, even among those who areconsidered healthy, the material consequences of madness may explode, threatening the whole of humanity with ruin. Our care of the child should be governed, not by the desire "to makehim learn things, " but by the endeavor always to keep burning withinhim that light which is called the intelligence. If to this end wemust consecrate ourselves as did the vestals of old, it will be a workworthy of so great a result. IX IMAGINATION =The creative imagination of science is based upon truth=. --If, acentury ago, some one had told the men who were traveling instage-coaches and using oil-lamps that some day New York would blazewith light at midnight; that men would ask for succor in mid-ocean andthat their message would be understood on land, that their flight inthe air would surpass that of the eagle--our good forefathers wouldhave smiled incredulously. Their imaginations would never have beenable to conceive these things. To them, modern men would have seemedalmost like men of another species. This is because the imagination of modern men is based upon thepositive researches of science, whereas the men of past ages allowedtheir minds to wander in the world of unreality. This single fact has changed the face of the world. When man loses himself in mere speculations, his environment willremain unchanged, but when imagination starts from contact withreality, thought begins to construct works by means of which theexternal world becomes transformed; almost as if the thought of manhad assumed a marvelous power: the power to create. It is thus we imagine the thought of God; all creation is the divinethought, which has the property of realizing itself. God thought: andbehold! light, the order of creation, living things, appeared. Modern man by the method of positive science seems to have found thesecret trace of thought which puts him in the divine path, which giveshim the revelation of his true nature, as indicated in the words ofScripture: "Let us make man in our image and likeness. " Thus human intelligence said: "Let there be light"--and there was amagic effulgence which comes and goes at a touch. "Let man fly in theair and rise far above all the birds of creation"--and it was so. "Letthe voices of shipwrecked mariners travel mysteriously and withoutsound, and reach distant places"--and it was so. "Let things multiply, plants in their varieties, so that all men may have the means of lifemore abundantly"--and it was so. The imagination has created when it has started from creation: thatis, when it has first taken in existing truth. Only then has itaccomplished marvelous things. Like the tiny bird which hid under the wing of an eagle about to soar, and when it had been thus borne up to an immense height, disengageditself from the eagle and began to fly still higher by its ownefforts--so too is man, who at first holds fast to Nature, attacheshimself to her by means of the most severe speculations, and with hersoars aloft in search of truth; then he disengages himself from her, and his imagination creates over and above Nature herself. In thismanner man seems to reflect divine attributes; the marvelous andmiraculous issue from him in such grandiose form that the man of thepast, the wren without the eagle, could not even have conceived it. Original sin is an allegory of this eternal story, of the man _whowished to act for himself_, to substitute himself for God, toemancipate himself from Him, and to create. Whereupon he fell intoimpotence, slavery and misery. The mind that works by itself, independently of truth, works in avoid. Its creative power is a _means_ for working upon _reality_. Butit confuses the means with the end, it is lost. This kind of _sin_ of the intelligence, so akin to original sin, thesin of confounding the means with the end, recurs in every form as a"force of inertia" which pervades the psychical life. Thus manconfounds the means, which is simpler, easier and more comprehensible, with the end in many of his functions. Thus, for example, whennutrition is made a pretext for gluttony, and the appetite an end initself, the body, instead of renewing itself in health and purity, ispoisoned. Again, when in the reproduction of species the sexualemotion becomes an end in itself rather than a means for the renewalof life, degeneration and sterility result. Man is guilty of a likesin against the intelligence when he employs his creative activity ofthought for its own sake, without basing it upon truth; by so doing hecreates an unreal world, full of error, and destroys the possibilityof creating in reality, like a god, producing external works. Thus positive science represents to us the "redemption" of thought;its purification from original sin, a return to the _natural laws_ ofpsychical energy. Scientists are like those men of the Bible storywho, after Israel had come out of Egypt, were permitted to explore theLand of Promise, and who came back with such a huge cluster of grapesthat it took two men to carry it, and the people saw it withamazement. So have the scientists of to-day penetrated into the Promised Land oftruth, where lies the secret which enables man to scrutinize Nature;and they have come out therefrom, bearing marvelous fruits for all mento see. The secret is a simple one: it consists of an exact methodbased on observation, prudence, and patience. All men might beallowed to share the secret, for indeed such virtues correspond to the"occult, " intimate needs of their spiritual life. It may be asked: Why should only explorers enter in, while the peopleremain outside, passively enjoying the fruits of their labors? Is it because the method of positive science, which puts man in theway of knowing the truth, of gathering up realities--and hence ofbuilding up his own imagination thereupon--is a monopoly, theprivilege of the chosen few? That method which denotes the redemption of the intelligence ought tobe the method by which all new humanity is molded--the formativemethod of the new generation. In the Bible story, the explorers were the messengers, and thewitnesses to the existence of the Promised Land, into which the wholepeople was to enter. And so it is here: all men should come under theinfluence of the scientific method; and every child should be able toexperiment at first hand, to observe, and to put himself in contactwith reality. Thus the flights of the imagination will start from ahigher plane henceforth, and the intelligence will be directed intoits natural channels of creation. * * * * * =Truth is also the basis of artistic imagination=. --The work of theintelligence is not limited to the exact observation and the simple, logical reasoning upon which great scientific discoveries may befounded. There is a more exalted work, confronting which none can say, as in the presence of certain scientific discoveries; "I also mighthave been able to do this. " Dante, Milton, Goethe, Raphael, Wagner, are mighty mysteries, miraclesof intelligence, which cannot be classed with the simple processes ofobservation and reasoning. Nevertheless, every man has his share ofartistic imagination, he has the instinct to create the beautiful withhis mind; and from this instinct duly developed come all the vasttreasures of art, scattered almost like crumbs of gold wherever therewas an intensity of civil life, wherever the intelligence had time tomature in peace. In every province which has preserved traces ofancient peoples we find local artistic types of work, of furniture, ofpoetic songs and popular music. This multiform creation of the innerman, then, enfolds him and protects his spirit in its intellectualneeds, just as the iridescent shell encloses the mollusc. In addition to the work of observing material reality, there is acreative work which lifts man up from earth and transports him into ahigher world which every soul may attain, within its individuallimits. Yet no one can say that man _creates_ artistic products out ofnothing. What is called _creation_ is in reality a composition, aconstruction raised upon a _primitive material_ of the mind, whichmust be collected from the environment by means of the senses. This isthe general principle summed up in the ancient axiom: _Nihil est inintellectu quod prius non fuerit in sensa_ (There is nothing in theintellect which was not first in the senses). We are unable to"imagine" things which do not actually present themselves to oursenses; even language would be lacking to us to explain things lyingbeyond those customary limits by which our consciousness is bounded. The imagination of Michelangelo was unable to picture God otherwisethan as a venerable old man with a white beard. When we try to imaginethe eternal torments of hell, we talk of fire; we think of Paradise asa place of light. Those born blind and deaf can form no definite ideaof sensations they have never been able to perceive. It is well knownthat persons blind from their birth imagine colors by comparing themto sounds: for instance, they imagine red as the sound of a trumpet, blue as the sweet music of the violin. The deaf, when they readdescriptions of delicious music, imagine the classic beauty of apainted picture. The temperaments of poets and artists arepre-eminently sensorial. And all the senses do not contribute in equalmeasure to give a type to the individual imagination; but certainsenses are often predominant. Musicians are auditive, and are inclinedto describe the world from the sounds it conveys to them; the warblingof the nightingale in the silence of a wood; the patter of the rain inthe solitude of the country-side, may be as springs of inspiration forgreat musical composers; and some of them, describing a tract ofcountry, will dwell only on its silences and noises. Others again, whose susceptibilities are predominantly visual, are impressed by theforms and colors of things. Or it may be the motion, the flexuosity, the impetus of things; the tactile impressions of softness andharshness, which make up the descriptive content of imaginative typesin whom the tactile and muscular sensations predominate. There are persons who have had non-sensorial impressions, and they arepersons whose spiritual life was of very great intensity. They have_internal impressions_ which cannot be accounted fruits of theimagination, but must be accepted as realities simply perceived. Thatthey are realities is affirmed not only by the introspection of normalsubjects, but by the effect upon their internal personality. "Therevelations vouchsafed by God, " says Saint Teresa, "are distinguishedby the great spiritual benefits with which they enrich the soul; theyare accompanied by light, discernment, and wisdom. " But if suchpersons wish to describe these impressions which do not penetrate bymeans of the senses, they are obliged to borrow the language ofsensorial impression. "I heard a voice, " says the Blessed Raymond ofCapua, "which was not in the air, and which pronounced words thatreached my spirit, but not my ear; nevertheless I understood it moredistinctly than if it had come to me from an external voice. I couldnot reproduce this voice, if I can call that a voice which had nosound. This voice formed words and presented them to my spirit. " TheLife of Saint Teresa abounds in similar descriptions, in which shetries to convey, by the inappropriate language of the senses, what shesaw, not with her eyes, but with her soul. The difference between these internal impressions, which occur inothers as well as in saints (and certainly do not constitutesaintliness), and the hallucinations of the insane, is clearly marked. In the madman, an excitement of the cerebral cortex reproduces oldimages deposited by the sensorial memory, which project themselvesinto the external world whence they were taken, with externalsensorial characteristics; so that the sufferer really believes thathe sees his phantasms with his actual eyes, and that he hears thevoices which persecute him; he is the victim of a pathologicalcondition; the whole personality reveals signs of his organicdecadence, the concomitants of his psychical disintegration. Setting aside, then, direct spiritual impressions of very rareoccurrence, not to be looked upon even as aids to sanctity, impressions which may form suitable subjects of study for specialistssuch as teleologists or the members of the English Society ofPsychical Research, but which do not enter into educationalconceptions, there remains for our consideration but a single materialof construction for intellectual activities: that of the senses. Imagination can have only a sensory basis. The sensory education which prepares for the accurate perception ofall the differential details in the qualities of things, is thereforethe foundation of the observation of things and of phenomena whichpresent themselves to our senses; and with this it helps us to collectfrom the external world the material for the imagination. Imaginative creation has no mere vague sensory support; that is tosay, it is not the unbridled divagation of the fancy among images oflight, color, sounds and impressions; but it is a construction firmlyallied to reality; and the more it holds fast to the forms of theexternal created world, the loftier will the value of its internalcreations be. Even in imagining an unreal and superhuman world, theimagination must be contained within limits which recall those ofreality. Man creates, but on the model of that divine creation inwhich he is materially and spiritually immersed. In literary works of the highest order, such as the _Divina Commedia_, we admire the continual recurrence to the mind of the supreme poet ofmaterial and tangible things which illustrate by comparison the thingsimagined: As doves By fond desire invited, on wide wings And firm to their sweet nest returning home, Cleave the air, wafted by their will along; Thus issued from that troop where Dido ranks, They, through the ill air speeding. (Carey's translation of Dante's _Inferno_, Canto V. ) And as a man with difficult short breath Forespent with toiling, 'scaped from sea to shore, Turns to the perilous wide waste, and stands At gaze; e'en so my spirit, that yet fail'd Struggling with terror, turn'd to view the straits That none hath passed and lived. (Carey's translation of Dante's _Inferno_, Canto I. ) As sheep that step from forth their fold by one Or pairs, or three at once; meanwhile the rest Stand fearfully, bending the eye and nose To ground, and what the foremost does, that do. The others, gathering round her if she stops, Simple and quiet, nor the cause discern; So saw I moving to advance the first Who of that fortunate crew were at the head, Of modest mien, and graceful in their gait. (Carey's translation of Dante's _Purgatorio_, Canto III. ) As though translucent and smooth glass or wave Clear and unmoved, and flowing not so deep As that its bed is dark, the shape returns So faint of our impictured lineaments That on white forehead set, a pearl as strong Comes to the eye; such saw I many a face All stretch'd to speak. (Carey's translation of Dante's _Paradiso_, Canto III. ) Dante's metaphors are profuse and marvelous, but every lofty writerand every great orator perpetually links the fruits of the imaginationwith the observation of fact; and then we say that he is a genius, full of imagination and knowledge, and that his thought is clear andvital. "As a pack of hounds, after vainly pursuing a hare, returns inmortification to the master with hanging heads and drooping tails, soon that tumultuous night did the mercenaries return to Don Rodrigo'sstronghold" (Manzoni, _I promessi Sposi_). Imagery is confined to actual figures; and it is this measure and this_form_ which give power to the creations of the mind. The imaginativewriter should possess a rich store of perceptive observations, and themore accurate and perfect these are, the more vigorous will be theform he creates. The insane talk of fantastic things, but we do nottherefore say that they have a great deal of "imagination"; there is avast gulf between the delirious confusion of thought and themetaphorical eloquence of the imagination. In the first case there isa total incapacity to perceive actual things correctly, and also toconstruct organically with the intelligence; in the second, the twothings are co-existent as forms closely bound up one with the other. The value of imaginative speech is determined by these conditions:that the images used should be _original_, that their author shouldhimself link together the actual and the created images, his own skillmaking him susceptible to their just and harmonious association. If herepeats or imitates the images of others, he achieves nothing. Henceit is necessary that every artist should be an observer; and so, speaking of the generality of intelligences, it may be said that inorder to develop the imagination it is necessary for every one firstof all to put himself in contact with reality. The same thing holds good in art. The artist "imagines" his figure; hedoes not copy it, he "creates" it. But this creation is in fact the_fruit_ of the mind which is rooted in the observation of reality. Thepainter and the sculptor are, _par excellence_, types of visualsusceptibility to the forms and colors of their environment, capableof perceiving its harmonies and contrasts; and it is by refining hispowers of observation that the artist finally perfects himself andsucceeds in creating a masterpiece. The immortal art of Greece wasabove all an art based on observation; the scanty clothing which wasthe fashion of his day enabled the Greek artist to contemplate thehuman form freely; and the exquisite sensibility of his eye enabledhim to distinguish the beautiful body from that which lacked harmony, until under the impulse of genius, he was able to create the idealfigure, conceived by the fusion of individual beauties chosen fromdetails in the sensorial storehouse of the mind. The artist, when hecreates certainly does not compose by putting together the parts whichare to form the whole as in a mosaic; in the ardor of inspiration hesees the complete _new figure_, born of his genius; but details he hasaccumulated have served to nourish it, as the blood nourishes the newman in the bosom of his mother. Raphael continually visited the Trastevere, a popular quarter wherethe most beautiful women in Rome were to be found, in order to seekthe type of a Madonna. It was here he became acquainted with theFornarina and his models. But when he painted the Madonna hereproduced "the image of his soul. " We are told that Michelangelowould spend entire evenings gazing into space; and when they asked himat what he was gazing, he replied: "I see a dome. " It was after thisform, so marvelously created within him, that the famous cupola of St. Peter's in Rome was fashioned. But it could never have been born, evenin the mind of Michelangelo, if his architectural studies had notprepared the material for it. No genius has ever been able to create the absolutely new. We haveonly to think of certain forms much used in art, and heavy andgrotesque as the human fancy which is incapable of rising above theearth. It seems to me amazing that the figure of the winged angelshould still persist, and that no artist should have yet improved uponit. To represent a being more diaphanous than man, and withoutcorporeal weight, we have robust beings whose backs are furnished withcolossal wings covered with heavy feathers. Strange indeed is thisfusion in a single creature of such incompatible natural features ashair and feathers, and this attribution to a human being of sixlimbs--arms, legs and wings, as to an insect. This "strangeconception" continues to be so materialized, not certainly as anartistic idea, but as the result of poverty of language. Indeed, wetalk of angels "flying" because our language is human and earthly, andwe cannot imagine the attributes of angels. Few indeed are the artistswho in pictures of the Annunciation represent the Angel as a luminous, delicate, and evanescent figure. The more perfect the approximation to truth, the more perfect is art. When, for instance, in a drawing-room, some one pays us a compliment, if this is founded upon one of our real qualities, and touches itclosely, we feel legitimate satisfaction, because what has been saidis relevant, and we may conclude that the person _has observed us_ andfeels a sincere admiration for us. We accordingly think of such aperson: He is subtle and intellectual; and we feel disposed toreciprocate his friendliness. But if the compliment praises us forqualities we do not possess, or distorts or exaggerates our trueattributes, we think with disgust: What a coarse creature! and feeleven more coldly to him than before. Dante's sublime sonnet must certainly have touched the heart ofBeatrice profoundly: My lady looks so gentle and so pure When yielding salutation by the way, That the tongue trembles and has nought to say, And the eyes, which fain would see, may not endure. And still, amid the praise she hears secure, She walks with humbleness for her array; Seeming a creature sent from Heaven, to stay On earth, and show a miracle made sure. She is so pleasant in the eyes of men That through the sight the inmost heart doth gain A sweetness which needs proof to know it by; And from between her lips there seems to move A soothing essence that is full of love, Saying for ever to the spirit: "Sigh!" (Rossetti's translation, Dante's _Vita nuova_, section XXVI. ) A very different impression must have been made on the self-respectand delicate sensibility of a feminine soul by this other sonnet, which is clumsy and bombastic because it is full of inappropriate andexaggerated metaphors: Your salutation and your glances bright Deal death to him who greets you on your way; Love my assailant, heedless of my plight, Cares nought if what he does shall heal or slay. Straight to the mark his arrow flew apace Piercing my heart and cleaving it in twain; I was as one who sees Death face to face; No word I spake--so great my burning pain. As through the window of the lordly tower The missile hurtles, shattering all within, So did the arrow enter through my eye; Bereft of life and spirit in that hour I stood there, to a man of brass akin, That mocks with semblance of humanity. (Guinizelli, 1300. ) If, then, the true basis of the imagination is reality, and itsperception is related to exactness of observation, it is necessary toprepare children to perceive the things in their environment exactly, in order to secure for them the material required by the imagination. Further, the exercise of the intelligence, reasoning within sharplydefined limits, and distinguishing one thing from another, prepares acement for imaginative constructions; because these are the morebeautiful the more closely they are united to a form, and the morelogical they are in the association of individual images. The fancywhich exaggerates and invents coarsely does not put the child on theright road. A true preparation digs the beds where the waters which well up fromintellectual creation will flow in smiling or majestic rivers, withoutoverflowing and so destroying the beauty of internal order. In the matter of causing the springing up of these rushing waters ofinternal creation we are powerless. "Never to obstruct the spontaneousoutburst of an activity, even though it springs forth like the humbletrickle of some almost invisible source, " and "to wait"--this is ourtask. Why should we delude ourselves with the idea that we can "createan intelligence, " we who can do nothing but "observe and await" theblade of grass which is sprouting, the microbe which is dividingitself? We must consider that creative imagination must rise like anilluminated palace, on dark foundations deeply imbedded in the rock, if it is to be anything but a house of cards, an illusion, an error;and the salvation of the intelligence is "to be able to plant the feeton firm ground. " * * * * * =Imagination in children=. --It is a very common belief that the youngchild is characterized by a vivid imagination, and therefore a specialeducation should be adopted to cultivate this special gift of nature. His mentality differs from ours; he escapes from our strongly markedand restricted limits, and loves to wander in the fascinating worldsof unreality, a tendency which is also characteristic of savagepeoples. This childish characteristic, however, gave rise to the generalizationof a materialistic idea now discredited: "Ontogenesis sums upphilogenesis": that is, the life of the individual reproduces the lifeof the species; just as the life of man reproduces the life ofcivilization, so in young children we find the psychicalcharacteristics of savages. Hence the child, like the savage, isattracted by the fantastic, the supernatural, and the unreal. Instead of indulging in such flights of scientific fancy as these, itwould be much simpler to declare that an organism as yet immature, like that of the child, has remote affinities with mentalities lessmature than our own, like those of savages. But even if we refrainfrom interfering with the belief of those who interpret childishmentality as "a savage state, " we may point out that as, in any case, this savage state is transient, and must be superseded, education_should help the child_ to overcome it; it should not _develop thesavage state_, nor _keep_ the child therein. All the forms of imperfect development we encounter in the child havesome resemblance to corresponding characteristics in the savage; forinstance, in language, poverty of expression, the existence only ofconcrete terms, and the generalization of words, by means of which asingle word serves several purposes and indicates several objects, theabsence of inflections in verbs, causing the child to use only theinfinitive. But no one would maintain that "for this reason" we oughtto restrict the child artificially to such primitive language, toenable him to pass through his prehistoric period easily. And if some peoples remain permanently in a state of imagination inwhich unrealities predominate, our child, on the contrary, belongs toa people for whom the delights of the mind are to be found in thegreat works of art, and the civilizing constructions of science, andin those products of the higher imagination which represent theenvironment in which the intelligence of our child is destined to formitself. It is natural that in the hazy period of his mentaldevelopment the child should be attracted by fantastic ideas; but thismust not make us forget that he is to be our continuator, and for thatreason should be superior to us; and the least we ought to give him tothis end is the maximum at our disposal. A form of imagination supposed to be "proper" to childhood, and almostuniversally recognized as creative imagination, is that spontaneouswork of the infant mind by which children attribute desirablecharacteristics to objects which do not possess them. Who has not seen a child riding upon and whipping his father'swalking-stick, as if he were mounted upon a real horse? There we havea proof of "imagination" in the child! What pleasure it gives tochildren to construct a splendid coach with chairs and armchairs; andwhile some recline inside, looking out with delight at an imaginarylandscape, or bowing to an applauding crowd, other children, perchedon the backs of chairs, beat the air as if they were whipping fieryhorses. Here is another proof of "imagination. " But if we observe rich children, who own quiet ponies, and drive outhabitually in carriages and motor-cars, we shall find that they lookwith a touch of contempt at the child who is running about whipping astick in great excitement; they would be astonished to see the delightof children who imagine themselves to be drawn along by stationaryarmchairs. They would say of such children: "They are very poor; theyact thus because they have no horses or carriages. " An adult resignshimself to his lot; a child creates an illusion. But this is not aproof of imagination, it is a proof of an unsatisfied desire; it isnot an activity bound up with gifts of nature; it is a manifestationof conscious, sensitive poverty. No one, we may be sure, will say thatin order to educate a rich child we should take away his pony and givehim a stick. Nor is it necessary to prevent the poor child from beingcontent with his stick. If a poor man, a beggar, had nothing but drybread to eat, and if he placed himself by the grated window of a richunderground kitchen because when he smelt its savory odors he imaginedhimself to be eating excellent dishes together with his bread, whocould prevent him? But no one would say that in order to develop theimaginative activity of the fortunate persons for whom the actualdishes were destined, it would be well to take away their meat andgive them bread and fragrance. A poor mother who was devoted to her little child offered him thepiece of bread which was all she had to give in this manner: shedivided it into two portions, and gave them to him in succession, saying: "This is the bread, this is the meat. " The child was quitecontent. But no mother would deprive her child of food in order todevelop his imagination in this way. And yet I was once seriously asked by some one if it would beinjurious to give a piano to a child who was continually practisingwith his fingers upon the table, as if he were playing the piano. "And why should it be injurious?" I asked. "Because, if I do so, hewill learn music, it is true, but his imagination will no longer beexercised, and I do not know which would be best for him. " Some of Froebel's games are based upon similar beliefs. A wooden brickis given to a child with the words: "This is a horse. " Bricks are thenarranged in a certain order, and he is told: "This is the stable; nowlet us put the horse into the stable. " Then the bricks are differentlyarranged: "This is a tower, this is the village church, etc. " In suchexercises the objects (bricks) lend themselves to illusion lessreadily than a stick used as a horse, which the child can at leastbestride and beat, moving along the while. The building of towers andchurches with horses brings the mental confusion of the child to itsculmination. Moreover, in this case it is not the child who "imaginesspontaneously" and works with his brains, for at the moment he isrequired to see that which the teacher suggests. And it is impossibleto know whether the child really thinks that the stable has become achurch, or whether his attention has wandered elsewhere. He would, ofcourse, like to move, but he cannot, because he is obliged tocontemplate the kind of cinematograph of which the teacher speaks inthe series of images she suggests, though they exist only in the shapeof pieces of wood all of the same size. What is it that is thus being cultivated in these immature minds? Whatdo we find akin to this in the adult world which will enable us tounderstand for what definitive forms we prepare the mind by such amethod of education? There are, indeed, men who really take a tree fora throne, and issue royal commands: some believe themselves to be God, for "false perceptions, " or the graver form, "illusions, " are thebeginning of false reasoning, and the concomitants of delirium. Theinsane produce nothing, nor can those children, condemned to theimmobility of an education which tends to _develop_ their innocentmanifestations of unsatisfied desires into mania, produce anythingeither for themselves or others. We, however, suppose that we are developing the imagination ofchildren by making them accept fantastic things as realities. Thus, for instance, in Latin countries, Christmas is personified by an uglywoman, the _Befana_, who comes through the walls and down thechimneys, bringing toys for the good children, and leaving only lumpsof coal for the naughty ones. In Anglo-Saxon countries, on the otherhand, Christmas is an old man covered with snow who carries a hugebasket containing toys for children, and who really enters theirhouses by night. But how can the _imagination_ of children bedeveloped by what is, on the contrary, the fruit of _our_ imagination?It is we who imagine, not they; they _believe_, they do not imagine. Credulity is, indeed, a characteristic of immature minds which lackexperience and knowledge of realities, and are as yet devoid of thatintelligence which distinguishes the true from the false, thebeautiful from the ugly, the possible from the impossible. Is it, then, _credulity_ we wish to develop in our children, merelybecause they show themselves to be credulous at an age when they arenaturally ignorant and immature? Of course, credulity may exist inadults; but it exists in _contrast_ with _intelligence_, and isneither its foundation nor its fruit. It is in periods of intellectualdarkness that credulity germinates; and we are proud to have outlivedthese epochs. We speak of credulity as a mark of the uncivilized. Here is a piquant anecdote of the seventeenth century. The Pont Neufin Paris was the main highway for foot-passengers, and a meeting-placefor loungers. Many mountebanks and charlatans mingled with the crowd. There was one of these charlatans who was making a fortune; he sold anointment from China which enlarged the eyes, decreased the size of themouth, lengthened noses that were too short, and shortened those thatwere too long, De Sartine, Chief of the Police, called up thischarlatan to have him imprisoned, and said to him: "Mariolo, how do you manage to attract so many people and gain so muchmoney?" "Sir, " replied the other, "how many persons, do you suppose, cross thebridge in one day?" "From ten to twelve thousand, " replied de Sartine. "Well, sir, how many intelligent persons do you suppose there areamong them?" "A hundred, " replied the official. "That's a liberal allowance, " said the charlatan, "but let us leave itat that. I will rely on the other nine thousand nine hundred for myliving. " The situation has so far changed between those days and our own thatthere are now more intelligent and fewer credulous persons. Education, therefore, should not be directed to credulity but to intelligence. Hewho bases education on credulity builds upon sand. I know of an incident which is perhaps reproduced in our societythousands of times. Two girls of noble family had been educated in aconvent, where, to safeguard them from the seductions and vanities ofthe life for which they were destined, the nuns had persuaded themthat the world is full of deceit, and that if, when people praise us, we could conceal ourselves and listen to what they say when we havedisappeared, we should hear very chastening things. When they were ofan age to be presented in Society, the two youthful princesses madetheir first appearance at an evening reception, to which their motherhad invited a great many guests. All lavished praises on the charmingyoung girls. In the drawing-room there was an alcove concealed by alarge curtain. Curious to hear what would be said of them when theydisappeared, the two agreed to slip out and hide behind the curtain. Scarcely had the attractive objects of the general admiration vanishedwhen the praises which had been kept within due bounds in theirpresence, were redoubled. The two girls told me that they experiencedan indescribable revulsion of feeling at the moment; they thought thateverything the nuns had made them believe was false; they renouncedreligion there and then, and made up their minds to throw themselvesinto the pleasures of society. "We afterwards had to reconstruct ourlives ourselves, embrace the truths of religion afresh, and understandfor ourselves the emptiness of social brilliance. " Credulity gradually disappears with experience, and as the mindmatures: _instruction_ helps towards this end. In nations as inpersons, the evolution of civilization and of souls tends to diminishcredulity; _knowledge_, as is commonly said, dispels the _darkness_ ofignorance. In the void which is ignorance, the fancy easily wanders, just because it lacks the support which would enable it to rise to ahigher level. Thus the Pillars of Hercules disappeared when theStraits of Gibraltar became the gates of the oceans; and no Columbuscould now persuade the Red Indians, whom the great American spirit ofdemocracy receives into its civilizing schools, that the heavens areobedient to him, darkening the sun at his command; for eclipses arephenomena as well known to them as to the white races. Is this illusory imagination, based upon credulity, a thing we oughtto "develop" in children? We certainly have no wish to see it persist;in fact, where we are told that a child "no longer believes infairy-tales, " we rejoice. We say then: "He is no longer a baby. " Thisis what _should_ happen and we await it: the day will come when hewill no longer believe these stories. But if this maturation takesplace, we ought to ask ourselves: "What have _we_ done to help it?What support did we offer to this frail mind to enable it to growstraight and strong?" The child overcomes his difficulties _in spite_of our endeavor to keep him in ignorance and illusion. The childovercomes himself and us. He goes where his internal force ofdevelopment and maturation lead him. He might, however, say to us:"How much you have made us suffer! The work of raising ourselves washard enough already, and you oppressed us. " Would not such conduct bemuch as if we compressed the gums to prevent the teeth from coming, because it is characteristic of babies to be toothless, or preventedthe little body from standing erect, because at first thecharacteristic of the infant is that it does not rise to its feet?Indeed, we do something of the same sort when we deliberately prolongthe poverty and inaccuracy of childish speech; instead of helping thechild by making him listen intently to the distinct enunciation ofspeech sounds, and watch the movements of the mouth, we adopt _his_rudimentary language, and repeat the primordial sounds he utters, lisping and perverting the consonants in the manner habitual to thosemaking first efforts to articulate words. Thus we prolong a formativeperiod full of difficulty and exertion for the child, thrusting himback into the fatiguing infant state. And we are behaving in exactly the same manner to-day with regard tothe so-called education of the imagination. We are amused by the illusions, the ignorance, and the errors of theimmature mind, just as at no very remote date we were amused to see aninfant _laugh_ when it was tossed up and down, a proceeding nowcondemned by infantile hygiene as wrong and dangerous in the extreme. In short, it is _we_ who are amused by the Christmas festivities andthe credulity of the child. If we confess the truth, we must admitthat we are somewhat like the fine lady who took a superficialinterest in a hospital for poor children, but who kept on declaring:"If there were to be no more sick children, I should be quiteunhappy. " We, too, might say: "If the credulity of children were tocease, a great pleasure would be taken from our lives. " It is one of the careless errors of our day to arrest artificially astage of development for our amusement; as in the ancient courts thebodily growth of certain victims was arrested to make them dwarfs andthe pastime of the king. Such a statement may seem severe, but itrests on an actual fact. We are unconscious of it, it is true; yet wespeak of it continually when we say among ourselves with lofty scornof the age of immaturity: "Really, we are not children. " If we wouldrefrain from prolonging the child's immaturity in order to be able tocontemplate his inferior state in immobility, and would, on thecontrary, allow free growth admiring the marvels of his progressionever on the road of higher conquests, we should say of him, withChrist: "He who would be perfect must become as a little child. " If what is called infant imagination is the product of "immaturity" ofthe mind, combined with the poverty in which we leave the child andthe ignorance in which he finds himself, the first thing to do is toenrich his life by an environment in which he will become the owner ofsomething, and to enrich his mind by knowledge and experience based onreality. And having given him these, we must allow him to _mature_ in_liberty_. It is from freedom of development that we may expect themanifestations of his imagination. To enrich the child, who is the poorest among us, because he hasnothing and is the slave of all--this is our first duty towards him. It will be said: Must we, then, give horses, carriages, and pianos toall children? By no means. Remedies are never direct when a complexlife is in question. The child who has nothing is the one who dreamsof things the most impossible of attainment. The destitute dream ofmillions, the oppressed of a throne. But he who possesses somethingattaches himself to that which he possesses to preserve and increaseit reasonably. A person without employment will dream of becoming a prince; but ateacher in a school dreams of becoming a head master. Thus the childwho has a "house" of his own, who possesses brooms, rubbers, pottery, soap, dressing-tables and furniture, is happy in the care of all thesethings. His desires are moderated, and the peace he derives from themopens up a life of expansion to his internal creative activities. * * * * * It is "living among real possessions of his own" which calms thechild, and assuages those desires which consume his precious powers inthe vanity of illusion. Such a result is not to be achieved by_imagining_ that he is living among possessions of his own. Someteachers in charge of a model orphanage once said to me: "We too makeour children perform the exercises of practical life which youdescribe; come and see. " I went. Some of the authorities were alsopresent, and a university professor of pedagogy. Some children seated at a little table with playthings were laying thetable for a doll's meal; their faces were quite without expression. Ilooked in amazement at the persons who had invited me; they seemedquite satisfied; they evidently thought that there was no differencebetween laying a table in play and laying it for an actual meal; forthem imaginary life and real life were the same thing. May not thissubtle form of error be instilled in infancy and afterwards persist asa mental attitude? It was perhaps this error which caused a famousItalian pedagogist to say to me: "Liberty a new thing? Pray readComenius--you will find that it was already discussed in his times. " Ireplied: "Yes, many talk of it, but the liberty I mean is a form ofliberty actually realized. " He seemed not to understand thedifference. I ought to have asked: "Do you not believe that there isany difference between him who talks of millions and him who possessesthem?" To be contented with the imaginary, and to live as if what we imagineactually existed; to run after illusion, and "not to recognize"reality, is a thing so common that scarcely is it apprehended, and thecry of alarm raised: "Awake to truth, O man!" when the consciousnessbecomes aware of a kind of gnawing parasite which has wormed itselfsubtly into our intelligence. The power to imagine always exists, whether or not it has a solidbasis on which to rest and materials with which to build; but when itdoes not elaborate from reality and truth, instead of raising a divinestructure it forms incrustations which compress the intelligence andprevent the light from penetrating thereto. How much time and strength man has lost and is losing by this error!Just as vice, which is an exercise of function without purpose, wastesthe body until it becomes diseased, so imagination unsustained bytruth consumes the intelligence until it assumes characteristics akinto the mental characteristics of the insane. * * * * * =Fable and religion=. --I have frequently heard it said that theeducation of the imagination on a basis of fancy prepares the soul ofthe child for religious education; and that an education based on"reality, " as in this method we would adopt, is too arid, and tends todry up the founts of spiritual life. Such reasoning, however, will notbe accepted by religious persons. They know well that faith and fableare "as the poles apart, " since fable is in itself a thing withoutfaith, and faith is the very sentiment of truth, which shouldaccompany man even unto death. Religion is not a product of fantasticimagination, it is the greatest of realities, the one truth to thereligious man. It is the fount and basis of his life. The man withoutreligion is not, certainly, a person without imagination, but ratherone who lacks internal equilibrium; compared with the religious man heis less calm, less strong in adversity; not only this, but he is moreunsettled in his own ideas. He is weaker and more unhappy; and it isin vain that he catches at imagination to create a world for himselfoutside reality. Something within him cries aloud in the words ofDavid: "My soul is a-thirst for God. " And if he hopes to reach thegoal of his real life by the help of imagination alone, he may feelhis feet giving way among quicksands at a supreme moment of effort. When an apostle seeks to win a soul to religion, where man may planthis faltering feet on a rock, he appeals to understanding, not toimagination, for he knows that his task is not to create something, but to call aloud to that which is slumbering in the depths of theheart. He knows that he must shake off the torpor from a feeble lifeas he would shake the snow from a living body buried in a drift, notbuild up a puppet of ice which will melt under the rays of the sun. It is true that fantastic imagination penetrates religion, but in theguise of error. In the Middle Ages, for instance, epidemics wereascribed with great simplicity, to a direct act of divinechastisement; to-day they are attributed to the direct action ofmicrobes. Papin's steam machines suggested diabolical intervention. But these are precisely the kind of prejudices which, like allfantasies, swarm in the void of ignorance. All religion is not thus constructed like a fantastic castle erectedon a basis of ignorance. Otherwise we should see savage peoplesreligious and civilized peoples without religion; whereas savages havea frail and fantastic religion, mainly constructed upon the terrorinspired by the mysterious activities of Nature, and civilized peopleshave a positive religion, which becomes stronger as it becomes purer, while the science of truth, penetrating into Nature, serves to exaltand illustrate its mysteries. And, above all, to-day, when there is a movement in favor ofeliminating religion altogether from the school, can we propose tointroduce it by cultivating _fable_? It is such a simple matter toopen the door directly to religion itself and allow its radiance topenetrate, warming and invigorating life. But it should enter like the sun into creation, not like the Befanafrom the chimney-top. Fable could prepare to some extent for pagan religion, which split upthe divinity into innumerable minor gods, symbolizing the externalworld; this, being apprehended by the senses, may lend itself toillusion; but fable could certainly never prepare for Christianity, which brings God into contact with the inner life of man, "one andindivisible, " and teaches the laws of a life which is "felt" by men. If the positive sciences be extraneous to religion, it cannot be saidthat it is the study of reality in itself which alienates ustherefrom. Hitherto the positive sciences have studied the "externalworld" in its analytical details, and if they could have made a"sympathetic, " religion that religion might be the pagan creed. Indeed, so far science has brought a very perceptive breath ofpaganism among us. But when it shall have succeeded in _penetratingthe inner man_, and there making manifest the laws of life and therealities of existence, a great Christian light will surely shine uponmen; and maybe children, like the angels over Bethlehem, will sing thehymn invoking peace between science and faith. Saint John in the desert "made straight the way of the Lord" andpurged men of the grossest errors. And thus a method which givesinternal equilibrium and disperses the grossest errors which suffocatethe spiritual energies, makes ready for the reception of truth and therecognition of the "way of life. " * * * * * =The education of the imagination in schools for older children=. --Whatis the method adopted in the ordinary elementary schools for theeducation of the imagination? The school is, in most cases, a bare, naked place where the gray colorof the walls and the white muslin curtains over the windows precludeany alleviation for the senses. The object of this depressingenvironment is to prevent the distraction of the scholar's attentionby stimuli, and concentrate it upon the teacher who speaks. Thechildren, seated, listen motionless hour after hour. When they draw, they have to reproduce another drawing exactly. When they move, it isin obedience to an order given by another person. Their personalitiesare appraised solely by the standard of passive obedience; theeducation of their wills consists of the methodical renunciation ofvolition. "Our usual pedagogy, " said Claparède, "oppresses children with a massof information which can never help them to direct their conduct; wemake them listen when they have no desire to hear; speak, write, narrate, compose and discourse when they have nothing to say; we makethem observe when they have no curiosity, reason when they have nodesire to discover anything. We incite them to efforts which aresupposed to be voluntary without the preliminary acquiescence of their_ego_ in the task imposed, that inner consensus which alone givesmoral value to submission to duty. " The children thus reduced to slavery use their eyes to read, theirhands to write, their ears to hear what the teacher says. Theirbodies, indeed, are stationary; but their minds are unable to dwellupon anything. They must be continually exerting themselves to runafter the mind of the teacher, who, in his turn, is urged on by aprogram drawn up at random, and which is certainly regardless ofchildish tendencies. The mind has to pass from thing to thing. Imagesfugitive and uncertain as dreams appear from time to time before theeyes of the child. The teacher draws a triangle on the blackboard andthen erases it; it was a momentary vision represented as anabstraction; those children have never held a concrete triangle intheir hands; they have to remember, by an effort, a contour aroundwhich abstract geometrical calculations will presently gather thickly;such a figure will never achieve anything within them; it will not be_felt_, combined with others, it will never be an inspiration. It isthe same with everything else. The object would seem to be fatigue forits own sake, that fatigue which has engrossed almost the sum ofeffort of experimental psychology. In this environment, where free exercise is prohibited, as also thechoice of work, and meditation, where every sentiment is oppressed, and from which every external stimulus which might enrich theintelligence with spontaneous acquisitions is eliminated, an attemptis made to excite the imagination by giving "compositions" to bewritten. This means that the child has to _produce_ without having thenecessary material; to give, without possessing; achieve internalactivities which he is prevented from developing. And _production_ isto come from the _exercise of production_; "constant practise incomposition" is to develop the imagination; from the sterility of thevoid the most complex products of the intelligence are to be evolved! It is well known that "composition" represents the great difficulty ofour schools. All teachers have declared that children are "poor inideas, " that they have "disorderly minds, " that they are "absolutelywithout originality. " The examination in written composition hasalways been the most painful of all; every one knows the expression ofthe child who hears the title of an obligatory theme dictated; and whoin a few hours must hand in a written composition, a product of theimagination; it is with anguish, with oppression of the heart, withcold hands and eyes anxiously interrogating the clock in terror of thefleeting hour, under the distrustful surveillance of a teacher who forthe occasion is transformed into a spy-warder like those in penalprisons, that he undergoes his torture to the end. Woe to him if hedoes not hand in his composition! He will be ruined, for this is theprincipal test, the one in which he is _free_ to manifest his ownworth, to give the true individual fruit by which others will measurehis intelligence. It is in this way that our young generations oftenfind neurasthenia and even suicide. Scholars cannot answer as did thegreatest poet of our times, Carducci, when he was requested to writean ode on the occasion of the death of a personage: "It isinspiration, not an occasion, which would make me write an ode. " It is interesting to study the methods by which, in "modern schools, "where some elements of psychical hygiene have penetrated, attempts aremade to help the pupils by diminishing their exhausting effort andleading them on gradually to composition. Composition (we must passover the contradiction in terms for the moment) is "taught. " Theteacher gives collective lessons in composition, just as she wouldexplain arithmetic: this is called "collective oral composition. " We will allow specialists in this method to speak, giving a passagecontaining a preparation of teachers for such lessons: METHOD TO BE FOLLOWED IN THE MANNER OF INDICATING THE THEME "Let us take, by way of illustration, the following brief narrative, which consists of three phases: 1. Ernesto did not know his lesson; 2. The teacher scolded the child severely; 3. Ernesto wept and promised to do better. If we indicate the narrative by the words: 'Ernesto did not know his lesson' (first fact, cause), the pupil will go on easily to the effect, consisting of the two other phases which, logically and in chronological order, follow the cause. If, on the other hand, we give as the theme the indication corresponding to the second phase: 'The teacher scolded the child, ' we oblige the pupil to go back to the cause and to make the third phase follow upon the second. We place the pupil in a more difficult position if we give as the theme: 'Ernesto wept and promised to do better, ' since he will then be obliged to go back to the second and thence to the first phase. "Hence the first phase in every brief narrative ought to serve to indicate the theme. "_Method_. The teacher should write the theme on the blackboard, and invite the pupils to think of (not to say) a possible consequence of the fact indicated in the theme. The teacher must let it be understood that the pupils are to work independently, without the help of suggestion. Let us see: "_Luisa threw a piece of wool into the fire_ (theme). Think of a possible consequence, say what happened in consequence. "_The wool caused a bad smell_. Very good. You repeat the narrative: "_Luisa threw a piece of wool into the fire. The wool caused a bad smell_. Can any one add another little thought, another possible consequence? "_The teacher reproved Luisa. A pupil opened the window_. The teacher repeats the exercise using the themes A. B. C. And causing the result arrived at with the collaboration of the scholars to be written in their copy-books. "A theme may be proposed and the pupils may be left free to develop it without any further explanations. Theme A. --_Luisa threw a piece of wool into the fire_. (The wool caused a bad smell. The teacher reproved Luisa. A companion opened the window to allow the bad odor to escape. ) Theme B. --_Ernesto upset the ink on the floor_. (The floor was stained. The teacher reproved the child. Ernesto promised to be more careful. ) Theme C. --_Elisa read the story well_. (The teacher praised her and gave her a good mark. Elisa was very much pleased. ) Theme D. --_Mario made a blot on his copy-book_. (The teacher did not correct his exercise; she scolded him. The boy went home crying. ) "After all this collective practise the teacher gives a free theme such as the following: 'Maria knew her lesson well. ' In developing it, the children are expected to follow the above examples: that is to say, they are to indicate in two sentences the logical effects of such a cause (the teacher gave her ten marks and praised her; then she told her to persevere in her industry). " * * * * * Sometimes the teaching has a psychological purport rather than alogical one. In such a case the "little thoughts" are not linkedtogether as cause and effect, but by the display of psychicalactivities in three spheres: "knowing, feeling, and willing. "Examples: Amelia made me smell some ammonia (fact perceived). -- What a horrible smell! (sentiment). --I will not smell it again (volition). Gigi pulled my hair (fact perceived). --It hurt me (sentiment). I pulled my companion's hand away quickly (volition) (_I Diritti della Scuola_, Year xiv, No. 16, p. 232). With methods such as these it is obvious that every possibility ofinspiration and creation will be destroyed. The child has to followphrase by phrase what the teacher indicates; thus every spark ofaptitude for original composition is quenched. Not only does the childremain _empty of material_ wherewith to create, as in the past, butthe very capacity for creation disappears, so that if, to-morrow, material should be formed in his mind, he would no longer have theimpulse to utilize it, and his thought would be fettered by his schoolroutine. Intellectual education carried on by the teacher on such a systemmakes one think of a chauffeur who should shut up the motor of anautomobile and try to propel it by the strength of his arms. He wouldin this case be a porter, and the automobile a useless machine. When, on the other hand, the motor is open, the internal force moves the carand the chauffeur only has to guide it that it may go safely along thestreet, not run into obstacles or rush into ditches, and not injureany one upon its course. This _guidance_ is the only thing necessary; but the real progressionis due solely to the internal impulse, which no one can create. It was thus that the first Italian literary Renascence came about, when the "new sweet style" arose with Dante as the spontaneousexpression of feeling: "Count of me but as one Who am the scribe of Love, that when he breathes Take up my pen and as he dictates, write. " (Carey's translation, _Purgatorio_, Canto XXIV. ) The child must create his interior life before he can expressanything; he must take spontaneously from the external worldconstructive material in order to "compose"; he must exercise hisintelligence freely before he can be ready to find the logicalconnection between things. We ought to offer the child that which isnecessary for his internal life, and leave him free to produce. Perhaps it would not then be impossible to meet a child running withsparkling eyes to write a letter, or walking and meditating as hecultivates a nascent inspiration. We ought to tend and nourish the internal child, and _await_ hismanifestations. If imaginative creation comes late, it will be becausethe intelligence is not sufficiently mature to create until late; andwe should no more force it with a fiction than we would put a falsemustache on a child because otherwise he will not have one till he istwenty. THE MORAL QUESTION When we said, to begin with, that positive science had only given the"reform" of physical life, together with the modern rules of hygiene, as its contribution to society, we were unjust to positive science. Ithas considered not only physical life, but moral life. It is enough to think of those studies in bacteriology which refer tothe vehicles of infectious maladies in the environment, in order torecognize therefrom a primary token of the important place which isassigned to the community of human interests, and this is now affirmedwith an emphasis never before displayed. Microbes multiply chiefly indamp and dirty places; underfed people are more prone to illness thanothers, and so are those who are overtired. Therefore illness andearly death must be the heritage of the poor who, underfed andovertired, live in damp and dirty places? No. It is a question ofvehicles. Microbes spread in all directions from the sources ofinfection, by means of dust, insects and all the usual objects oflife, in fact by all the means of transport. They exist ininconceivable and fabulous numbers; and every sick person is an almostincredible source of illness and death. One single person wouldsuffice to contaminate the whole of Europe. The means of transport allow microbes to cross oceans and continentsin every sense. We need only observe the transatlantic lines, andthose of the railways of the world, in order to realize the lines ofcommunication between the maladies which afflict humanity in all theplaces of the earth. We need only study the industrial changes ofmatter in order to follow in detail the daily path of the microbes, which put all classes of society into intimate communication. The richlady wears linen on her person which comes from the hands of the poor, and is constantly in their keeping; she cannot put food into her mouthunless it is offered to her by the poor who have handled it over andover again. The air which is breathed by the rich may contain in its dust thedesiccated germs which a consumptive workman has scattered on theground. There is no way of escape. Statistics prove this: the deathrate from infectious diseases is tremendously high in all countries, among both rich and poor, although the poor die in a double proportionto the rich. How can we deliver ourselves from this scourge? Only oncondition that there be no more sources of infection, that is to say, that there be no longer unhealthful places in the world, and nounderfed people constrained to work beyond their strength. The onlyway by which the individual may escape is that by which all humanitymay be saved. This is a great principle, which seems to ring like atrumpet call: Men, help one another, or you will die. It is a fact that science has inaugurated "works of sanitation" as itspractical contribution to the fight against mortality; towns have beenopened out, water has been laid on, houses have been built for thepoor, and labor has been protected. All the environment tends toameliorate the "conditions of life" of the population. No works ofcharity, no expression of love or of pity, has ever been able to do somuch. Science has shown us that those works which were called"charitable, " and were looked upon merely as a moral virtue, represented the first step, although a restricted and insufficientone, towards the real salvation of the health of humanity. It was thatwhich had to be done in order to fight against death. But, in order toreach the goal, such work should be universal, and should constitute a"reformation" of society. Then it becomes "social progress, " whenthere will be no benefactors or benefited, but merely humanity whichhas increased its own well-being. This principle: All men arebrothers; let them love and help one another, and let not the righthand know what the left hand doeth, will have been translated intopractise. In sentimental times, poverty was a stimulus to which the rich manreacted. The poor did not really tend to educate the rich man'sfeelings. If, in those times, the poor man had said, "Give menecessities, or thou shalt die, " the rich man would have beenindignant. He was very far from realizing that the poor man was hisbrother, with whom he shared his rights, as well as the danger ofdeath. To-day science has put things on a different footing. It has"realized" that charity benefits both rich and poor, and hasconstituted a principle of civilization that which formerly was a"moral principle" entrusted to sentiment. In the case of morals, too, hygiene has penetrated, and has givenindividual rules of life. It is through hygiene that debauchery hasbecome less common, that those epicurean feasts which were celebratedin ancient times are replaced to-day by hygienic meals, the value ofwhich consists in the wise proportion between the needs of the bodyand the food which is prepared. Wine and alcohol are rejected by therich more than by the poor. We eat in order to keep ourselves in goodhealth, and therefore without excess and without poison. This is whatthe ancient morality preached when it fought against the vice ofgluttony and proclaimed fasting and abstinence to be virtues. No onein those times could have imagined that the day would come whenmillionaires would voluntarily substitute lemonade for wine, and thatgreat banquets would disappear entirely, leaving only the accounts ofthem as a "curiosity" of the past. Nay, more: none of these modernascetics are proud of their virtue, they seem to respond withsimplicity to the gospel precept: "When ye fast, be not as the hypocrites, of a sad countenance ... Butanoint thine head, that thou appear not unto men to fast, but unto thyFather which seeth in secret. " If one of the ancient preachers could talk to these ascetics, he wouldalso be much edified by their conversation. What has become of thosepleasantries which formed "life" and "delight" and "gaiety" in thetime of Marguerite of Valois? The tales of Boccaccio could not now bediscussed in English society, or in any modern aristocratic societyeven of much lower social rank than that which surrounded Margueriteof Valois. Nowadays people are afraid of uttering an incorrect word, even of hinting at the most innocent functions of the body, or ofnaming those parts of their clothing which come in contact with theskin. They only talk about elevated things, and only those people whoinstruct us are looked upon as brilliant conversationalists; thosewho, in speaking of their travels, tell us about the customs of thepeople, or who, speaking of politics, tell us of the currentsituation. Excessive laughter, jokes, and violent gestures are notpermitted. Every one keeps his limbs quiet, even avoiding thosevivacious and inoffensive gestures which are the natural accompanimentof conversation; the tone of voice is so modulated as to be scarcelyaudible. The ancient preacher would say, "These people have carriedout St. Paul's exhortation to an exaggerated degree: 'But fornicationand all uncleanness, let it not once be named among you, as becomethsaints; neither filthiness nor foolish talking nor jesting which arenot convenient. '" * * * * * And among these evolutions of manners we find that it is once morehygiene which, making itself the guide of fashion, has by degreessimplified clothes, done away with pomatum and rouge, abolishedcrinolines, modified stays and shoes, caused long-trained dresses todisappear from the streets, and has introduced uniformity in clothing. If a man who lived in ancient times were to appear among us, he wouldask: "Why are the people doing penance? I see men without anyornaments and with their hair cut short; and women who, with anedifying renunciation of vanity, go along the street without wigs andwithout patches on their faces, with their hair simply knotted up; Isee countesses dressed in inexpensive costumes, in simple, dark, monastic dresses, almost like those of the poor. The carriages aredark, like funeral cars, and the servants wear mourning livery. Carnival no longer enlivens the streets. Every one goes about silentlyand gravely. " Who could ever have persuaded the people of old times, who used topreach against excessive vanity, that such a picture as this does notrepresent a time of penance, but ordinary daily life? These modern people, on their side, are far from thinking that theyare condemned to a life of suffering; on the contrary, they look backwith horror on the society of the past; they would never go back tothose days when men were enslaved by grand dresses and by rouge, poisoning themselves with debauchery and dying of infectious diseases. They have freed themselves from a great many useless bonds and haverealized a higher enjoyment of life. All the comfort which makes lifeso delicious to-day would have been an incomprehensible secret to thenobility of past centuries. It is the secret of life. Possibly, at one time, monks and those who were living in the worldthought of each other in a similar way. Those who had renounced thebondage of the world and all its vanities possessed a secret of lifewhich was full of hitherto unknown delights, and they looked withhorror upon the so-called pleasure of their century; while thoseunconscious men who were slaves from the tops of their be-wigged headsto their feet compressed in narrow boots, called the ways of death"life and enjoyment. " Positive science has made yet another contribution penetratingdirectly into the sphere of morality. By statistic methods ofsociology the social problems of immorality and crime have been openedup, and external facts have been studied; and criminal anthropologyhas revealed the "inferior types" who by hereditary taint are thosewho have a predisposition to all the moral infection of theirsurroundings. Morel's theories concerning degeneration and theresulting theories of Lombroso concerning criminals have undoubtedlybrought light into this chaos, wherein opinion as to human goodnessand wickedness was divided. Forms of "degeneration" are chiefly rootedin the nervous system, and all the abnormal personalities producedthereby "deviate" from the ordinary type. They have a differentintelligence and different morality. False perceptions, falsereasoning, illusions, anomalies of the will such as impulses, irresolutions, and crazes, the deficient moral sense on which theabnormal intelligence builds up systematic delusions, which areinterpreted as philosophical principles, place these persons in acategory apart as extra-social beings. The general nervous weakness and the wandering intelligence whichpreclude an interest in work make of these persons individualsincapable of production, who therefore try to live upon theproductions of others. This fundamental fact, which tends to unite adislike of productive labor with impulses towards rapine, causes themto make use of all those surrounding causes which prepare the externalmeans for crime. These men are "bad. " But if we observe more closelywe see that it is not wickedness with which we have to deal but morbidconditions and social errors. If such be the case, these bad men, whofrom no fault of their own were born in these unhappy conditions, andwho are driven to perdition by society, are really "victims. " Theirwhole history, when closely investigated, reveals this fact. They arehunted and neglected from babyhood. Incapable of making themselvesbeloved owing to mental deficiency, volitive disorders, to theanomaly of the affections and also to lack of physical attraction, they pass from maternal persecution to that of the school, and finallyto that of society, bringing on themselves every kind of punishment. The first picture which Morel drew of these "dead ones of the race"was an impressive one. According to his original theory, containing asynthesis which, if not very exact, yet sums up the phenomenon withcomprehensive clearness, when a cause of degeneration acts upon a man, he may have defective children, whose deficiency increases in the twoor three following generations, until it is extinguished in the finalsterility of exceedingly debased individuals. According to Morel, madmen, criminals, epileptics and idiots form the sad series in thisextinction of man. The man who dies leaving strong descendants, doesnot really die, but is renewed in them, youth succeeding to age. It isonly the degenerate who dies, for his kind is "extinguished, " the fewmiserable generations whom he produces represent a "living agony. "This "dying species, " which lives among the healthy, exhibiting itsweakness, its delusions, its convulsions, irritability and egoism, isfinally driven into those tombs of the living, lunatic asylums andprisons. What a living picture, and what a warning to man! One "fault" may be amortal one to him, for, like the Biblical curse, it transmits itselfto generations, and leads to eternal perdition. How terrible it is to think of punishment falling on the innocent headof a child! and how evident it is that our present life is noteverything, but that it has a continuation, when we shall reap thetrue rewards or the true punishments of our existence. The choice liesto a great extent in our own hands. Shall we have a beautiful, healthy, prolific son, or a deformed, unhealthy, barren son, incapableof loving and understanding us? The hygiene of generation is the mostimportant part of moral hygiene. If the salvation of the individuallife can only be obtained by caring for the hygienic life of the wholeof humanity, it is only by rigorously following the laws of health andthe laws of life that the salvation of the species can be obtained. Alcoholism, all poisons, overwork, constitutional maladies, dissipation of nervous force, vice, and idleness, are all _causes_ ofdegeneration. It was science which went on preaching these things forthe salvation of mankind, and by these means propagating virtue. Butabove all, it inculcated the great principle of "pardon, " whichhitherto had been one of the mysteries of religious morality. A few years ago, no one, however pitiful and generous, could havelooked upon the delinquent with the same justice and pity as sciencehas done. It has pointed out that we are _all_ responsible for thisvictim of social causes, that we must all accuse ourselves of the sinscommitted by the inferior individual, and exert ourselves for hisregeneration by all the means in our power. It was only the saints whohad an intuition of this truth, when they offered their merits for allmen in common and accepted responsibility for the offenses of all. "You will hold yourselves accountable, " said St. John Chrysostom, "notonly for your own salvation, but for universal salvation; he who praysmust take upon himself the burden of the interests of the whole humanrace. " It is certain that if a Tages had cleansed our whole race of itsdeformities, and if an analogous morality had rendered us indifferentto the illnesses, weaknesses, and sufferings of humanity, regenerative science would not have been able to arise. It is only byrecognizing the effects that we can go back to the unhealthy causes, and save humanity from danger. The _causes_ of death are as invisibleand intangible as microbes; man may drink poison when he thinks he isdrinking nectar. Woe to us if the diseased and degenerate did notexhibit themselves to us as an advance guard, to testify to theunconscious errors which threaten us with perdition. Science does notexactly limit itself to tending the sick, like the _personnel_ of ahospital, but it penetrated by that goodly door, and made its way in acontrary direction towards a normal humanity, unconscious of itsdanger. The ultimate result of science is not the care of the sick butuniversal health. We owe the hygienic "comfort" which ensures ourhealth, and diminishes general mortality to so great an extent, to thefact that sick people were collected together and tended. The promise of regeneration given us by eugenics, which offers us theuniversal hope of a more flourishing and happier generation than thatof the past has been made possible because we mercifully collect allthe feeble-minded, the epileptics and the unhealthy. It was to this wehad to look in order to find the roads which lead to health, andarrive at the gates of a better world. When Christ showed the way of salvation to men He pointed to those whowere rejected by society, in whom the obvious effects of evil could beseen, because the causes of evil are too subtle, and are not alwaysdirectly visible: "You hear with your ears and do not understand; youbehold with your eyes and do not see. " But, on the other hand, the extreme consequences are obvious, and itis enough that the "will" of man should agree to gather them incharitably and without repugnance in order to obtain salvation. St. Matthew says that at the Last Judgment those who are lost will beseparated from those who are saved, and that the King will call thelatter to his right hand, saying, "Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was an-hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty and ye gaveme drink ... I was naked and ye clothed me.... I was in prison, and yecame unto me. " "And when, " replied the just, "saw we thee, O Lord, an-hungered or thirsty or naked? When saw we thee sick or in prisonand came unto thee?" and the King shall answer and say unto them, "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren, yehave done it unto me. " Then shall he say also unto them on the lefthand, "Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire ... For I wasan-hungered, and ye gave me no meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me nodrink ... Sick and in prison and ye visited me not. " Then shall theyanswer him, saying, "When saw we thee an-hungered, or a-thirst, or astranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and did not minister untothee?" Then shall he answer them, saying, "Inasmuch as ye did it notto one of the least of these, ye did it not to me. " This is the fundamental difference between heathen and Christianmorality; between intellectual Greek philosophy and practical modernscience; between the æsthetic ideal and the ideal of "life. " * * * * * Positive science, therefore, has made us realize a part ofChristianity. We might almost say that the monastic orders practicallyrepresented, throughout the centuries and the different civilizations, the only form of life which is really life--that which science hasrevealed to-day. They alone, at a period of disorderly excess, had a dietary whichbegins to be generally recognized as hygienic; they ate coarse bread, fresh fruit, milk fresh from the cow, many vegetables, little meat, atfrugal but regular repasts. Withdrawing from the polluted air ofcrowded cities, they chose large, spacious houses in the open countryor, at any rate, rather isolated--if possible, standing on a height. Their luxury was not heavy, padded furniture but large grounds whereit was possible to live in the open air. Loose clothing, comfortablesandals, or bare feet, woolen gowns, physical exercise, agriculturalwork, traveling, made them almost the precursors of the modern life ofsport. Every convent spread benefactions all around--received thepoor, tended the sick, as if to show that this freer and moreprivileged life was but a phase, which must necessarily be accompaniedby help to humanity. They represented the social and intellectual_élite_; it was the Benedictines who preserved manuscripts andtreasured the arts; it was the followers of Saint Bernard whopractised agriculture, and it was the sons of Saint Francis whopreached peace. Or it might be said that modern society, guided by positive study ofthe laws of life and of the means of saving it, has encountered thereligious laws which reveal the paths of life; and realizes a form ofcivilization which recalls and, in some ways, reproduces the ancientoases of the spirit. If, however, we were to risk a parallel between modern society and aconvent, what kind of convent would the former be? Here is a monastery where the brethren eat according to rule, wearhygienic clothing, are correct in their language, never indulge innoisy quarrels, have all their interests in life in common, anddispense their charities coldly, as if they were a custom or anobligation of their order; they meditate on eternal life, onsalvation, and rewards and punishments in a future life, but withoutbeing touched by these thoughts. The real truth is that they have losttheir faith, and that they do not love one another; ambition, anger, envy and even hatred, drive away internal peace; and corruption beginsto filter in under these other sins; a sign of a deeper decadence nowbegins to show itself, for chastity has been lost. That which is, _parexcellence_, the standard of Christianity, the sign of respect forlife, the consecration of the purity which leads to eternal life, hasbeen overthrown together with faith. The love of man is not compatiblewith the excesses of the beast. It is through purity that an ardentlove to all mankind, and comprehension of others, and intuition oftruth, arise like a perfume. It is that ardent fire called charity orlove, which keeps life kindled, and gives value to all things. "ThoughI bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body tobe burned, " says St Paul, "and have not charity, it profiteth menothing. And though I have the gift of prophecy and understand allmysteries and all knowledge, and have not charity, I am nothing. Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels and have notcharity, I am became as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal" (1 Cor. Xiii. ). In "degenerate" convents the greatest and most elevated acquirements, and the highest level of perfection reached, are lost; just as aperson punished by degradation first loses the last and highestacquisitions, and only keeps the lower. In social convents, on the other hand, the ultimate attainment has notyet been reached; that is the difference and the contrast. The socialelevation towards Christianity is only on its first steps. Love islacking, and thence chastity; and all this is absent owing to the aridvoid left by the absence of faith, and the oppression of spirituallife. Positive science has not yet touched the inner man, and thesocial environment does not therefore realize, in its "force ofuniversal civilization, " the loftier human acquisitions. When we occupy ourselves with the "moral education" of our children, we ought to ask ourselves if we really love them and if we are sincerein our wishes for their "morality. " Let us be practical. Fathers and mothers, what can you hope for fromyour children? The European war is far less dangerous to their bodiesthan the spiritual risks which they run. We must imagine a muchgreater war, a universal one, to which all young men are called, andwhere the survivors are pointed out as absolutely exceptional. Therefore you are educating your sons for death. What, then, is theuse of troubling so much about them? Is it not useless to take care oftheir soft hair, and their rosy nails, and the fresh and bewitchingbeauty of their vigorous little bodies, if they are to die beforelong? Ah! all those who love children must fight in this deadly war, andstruggle for peace: The creed which Mme. De Héricourt sets forth in her book, "_La FemmeAffranchie_, " about the time of the French Revolution, is veryeloquent. "Mothers, you admonish your children, saying, 'Do not tell lies, because this is unworthy of a person who respects himself. Do not steal: would you like it if people stole your things? It is a dishonest thing to do. Do not oppress those of your companions who are weaker than yourself, and do not be rude to them, for that would be a cowardly act. ' These are excellent principles. But when the child has become a young man his mother says, 'He must sow his wild oats. ' And sowing his wild oats means that he must perforce be a seducer, an adulterer, and a frequenter of brothels. What? Is this mother, who told her boy not to tell lies, the same person who permits him now that he is a man, to betray a woman like herself? And, although she taught her child not to steal another child's toy, she thinks it lawful for her son to rob a woman like herself of her life and her honor. And she who advised him never to oppress the weak, now permits him to range himself among the oppressors of a human being whom society has made into a slave. " * * * * * These mothers acquiesce in the degrading fact which perverts allhumanity. There is a strong social movement to-day against the whiteslave traffic; and at the same time the science of eugenics has arisenwhich tends to protect the health of posterity. These are excellent things. But the question which lies at the root ofall these questions is a spiritual question. It is not the whiteslaves who are the "lost" human beings; they are the victims of auniversal act of perdition and slavery. If such a grave spiritualdanger is hanging over us, what external hygiene can save us, unlessit is preceded by a direct struggle against this danger? The really"lost" are those who persist in a state of death, without perceivingit. If any one perceives the danger, he may by this mere fact find himselfin the way of salvation. The so-called white slaves, held in scorn bysociety and oppressed by punishment, cry vengeance in the sight of theuniverse, and cover mankind with shame; but they are not the reallylost--they are not the only slaves. He who is lost is the innocent, well-educated young man who, without remorse, unconscious of his owndegradation, takes advantage of a human being who is made a slave forhim, and, moreover, covers her with contempt, without hearing thevoice of conscience which admonishes him: "Why beholdest thou the motewhich is in thy brother's eye? Cast out the beam which is in thine owneye. " This man, who seeks, perhaps, to protect his own body fromdisastrous consequences, although very often it is not possible toescape them, and therefore risks, for nothing, suicide of his ownperson and of his species; and who only cares to seek a socialposition for himself and an honored family--this is the man who isreally lost in darkness, and reduced to slavery. And his mother is also a slave, for she cannot follow her son, whomshe brought up with so much care for his body, and who cared for hismoral good with all the passionate love of her heart; she is a slave, when her son is forced away from her, to go perhaps to death or to theruin of his physical health, and to descend into moral degradation, while she can do nothing but watch him, silent and immovable. Sheexcuses herself sadly, saying that her dignity and purity forbid herto follow her son in these paths. It is as if she were to say, "Thereis my son, wounded and bleeding; but I cannot follow him, because theroad is muddy, and I might dirty my boots. " Where is the heart of atrue mother? How can maternal sentiment fall so low? "She only isdignified and pure, " cries Madame de Héricourt, "who is capable ofbringing up her son in such a way that he will never have anythingshameful to confess to his mother. " The mother who has lost all her authority is herself lost. Maternal dignity, on the other hand, is great and powerful. Behold inancient times the Roman matron, Veturia, the mother of Coriolanus!Having heard that her son, a traitor to his country, was coming toattack Rome at the head of an alien army, she went bravely out fromthe protecting walls of the city, advanced towards the powerful leaderthrough the hostile host, and asked him, "Art thou my son, or art thoua traitor?" At those words Coriolanus renounced his unworthyundertaking. In the same way, in these days, the true mother should pass beyond thewalls of prejudice and the frontiers of slavery, and have sufficientdignity to be able to confront her son, saying to him: "Thou wilt notbe a traitor to humanity!" What pressure can have been brought to bear on a woman to have madeher lose the sacred right of saving her son? and what can have soweakened affection as to lead a youth to despise the maternalauthority in order to make himself a young man? It is this death of the soul and not external facts which pronounceour sentence. * * * * * If positive science, which has limited itself to the study of theexternal causes of maladies, or the causes of degeneration, and hasconfined itself to the inculcation of physical hygiene--that is tosay, the protection of material life--has contributed so largely tomorality, how much more may we hope for moral elevation from apositive science which concentrates upon the protection of the "innerlife" of man? And if the first part, scrupulously following the truth by exactresearch, has arrived at the social realization of Christianprinciples, we may presume that its continuation, conducted with thesame loyalty and exactitude of research, will in like manner succeedin filling up the voids which still exist in modern civilization. This is, I believe, the clearest and most direct reply to those whoask what can be hoped for in the morality and religion of the newgenerations, from our "pover-ositive" method of education. If experimental medicine, by going back to the causes of diseases, hassucceeded in solving the problems which concern health, anexperimental science which concentrates upon the study of normal man'spsychical activities should lead to the discovery of the superior lawsof life and of the health of mankind. This science has not yet been established, and awaits itsinvestigators; but we may foresee that if universal hygiene, whichgives humanity a guide to physical life, has come from medicalresearch, then this new science should produce a hygiene which willgive to all men practical guidance in moral life. And if positive medicine arose in the hospitals, where sick peoplewere collected by private and public generosity, with charitableintentions and under the guidance of empiricism, this science should, above all, concentrate and find its experiences in schools: that is tosay, in the places where all children are gathered together for theirsocial elevation, and with the empirical guidance of education. What was the elevated note of scientific medicine which graduallysuperseded the empirical method? While empirical medicine believed inblood-letting and blistering, scientific medicine elevated andillustrated the ancient principle which had been forgotten, and whichcontained all the new wisdom in a synthesis: the medicinal force ofnature, _vis medicatrix naturae_. A natural power of fighting andconquering illness exists in the living organism, and it is to thisthat we must look in order to construct rational medicine; he whobelieves that the doctor and the medicine cure the sick is anempiricist; but he who knows that it is "only the organism" that canproduce the cure, and that therefore we must protect and assist theforce which nature gives for our salvation, is a scientist. Now the sum of treatments necessary to protect the natural forces ofdefense and reorganization in positive medicine, are much more minuteand are diffused in much vaster fields than the old empiricism. The great number of specialists who replace the single type of doctorof the last century, is sufficient to emphasize the enormousdifference in practise which the new tendency involves. It is interesting also to give a glance at the progress which has beenmade in medicine; it has begun to cure diseases; and thence it hasgone on to discover the laws of normal physical life, and to show thehealthy how to preserve their health. When it reached this point itfound that the same measures which are necessary for preserving healthare the best for curing disease; because it is the same source of lifewhich gives health and the _vis medicatrix naturae_. Thus, for example, the rational diet of to-day is not only a hygienic measure which allshould adopt in order to keep themselves in health, but the mostimportant factor in the cure of illness. Dietetics, whether for thevictims of gout, pellagra, fever, tuberculosis, or diabetes, is ofprimary importance; lithia salts, caffeine, and creosote are uselessin comparison. The modern tendency is to reject these poisonousremedies altogether, and to substitute the natural remedies of rest, medical gymnastics, hydropathic treatment, and, above all, climatictreatment. Psychiatry and neuropathology have introduced the treatmentof work: that is, a course of orderly intelligent activity, to giveoccupation to individuals who begin to show signs of mental failure. By degrees, as progress is made in this direction, the conception of"natural healing" will triumph--the ever clearer conception, that isto say, of the forces which sustain life. It is only Nature which can do everything, and if the doctor is tobecome useful he must follow in her footsteps and serve her withincreasing fidelity. It is natural that investigation should lead to attempts atinterpreting these forces upon which health depends, and these studiesof "immunity" have been the most brilliant, widely diffused andscientific of all medical studies. When Metchnikoff believed he had discovered that the leucocytes in theblood absorb and digest microbes and thus save man from infection, itseemed as if a ray of clear and simple light had illuminated all themystery. But no sooner was his theory promulgated than it wasdemolished by the successive studies in which it was subjected to adestructive criticism, because the leucocytes are not always able toabsorb living microbes; certain "conditions" of the organism arerequisite in order that they may have this power, and so the knottypoint was merely shifted. Moreover, it is not the actual microbeswhich cause disease, but their toxines. Thus the theories of toxinesseemed to be the true guide for researches; but then we entered into asea of complications, and it is obvious that only "aspects" and"attributes" of immunity are accessible to us, but that the substance, the last word, underlying all those aspects which research hasrevealed is: mystery. For this reason, there is silence to-day as to questions of immunity;that which was once familiar as a popular idea remains among theobscure studies which not even the students of the university shouldapproach. Nevertheless, it is "impossible" that the medical science founded uponnatural forces should develop, unless the imperative necessity berecognized of studying the mystery of life which conceals its source, but continually expands its forces. The invisible but real source of health and healing is always there, at the climax of all efforts; and the palpitating energy which springsinexhaustibly therefrom is the only reality which makes evident thisrevival of the living. This medical science and this mystery cannotbut form a unity. It is probable that this will be brought about by that science whichstudies the health and the maladies of the soul. If this shoulddiscover that the soul, too, is corruptible, subject to disease anddeath, that it has its laws of health and its _vis medicatrix naturae_, treatments tending to respect and aid this precious force of lifeshould multiply immeasurably; and at the same time the mysterioussource whence it gushes should impose itself on modern medicine, asthe question of immunity has done. Then life, morality and religionwill be indissolubly united. * * * * * Let us now turn to children of two and a half and three years old, whotouch everything, but especially those objects which they evidentlyprefer, the most simple objects, as, for example, a square block ofpaper, a square inkstand, or a round, shiny bell. All things which"are not meant for them. " Then the mother comes and takes them away; half caressing, and at thesame time tapping the little hands, she calls out, "Don't touch!naughty!" I once was present at one of these many family scenes, whichpass unnoticed. The father, who was a doctor, was sitting at thewriting-table; the mother was holding in her arms a very small child, who was stretching out its little hands to the various objects uponthe table. The doctor said, "That child is incorrigibly naughty, although it is so young. However much its mother and I try to cure itof this fault of touching my things, we never succeed. " "Naughty!naughty!" repeated the mother, holding its little hands tightly, whilethe child threw itself back, howling, and throwing its feet about asif it wished to kick. When children are three or four years older, the struggle becomes moresevere: they want to _do_ things. Those who observe them carefullydiscover that they have some "tendency. " They wish to imitate whattheir mother does, if their mother is a housewife. They willinglyfollow her into the kitchen, they wish to share her work, to touch herthings, and they try furtively to knead and cook and wash clothes, andsweep the floor. The mother feels wearied by them; she keeps onrepeating, "Be quiet; leave it alone. Don't tease me. Go away. " Thenthe child makes a great noise, throws himself on the ground, andkicks; but then he begins again to do as much as he can without beingseen, as quickly as possible; and by trying to wash things in a hurry, gives himself a bath; trying to conceal some contraband ragout, hemakes the floor dirty. The mother's anger, cries, and reproofsincrease; and the child reacts with naughtiness and tears; but beginsagain almost at once. Where the mother does not do her own work, the child, if intelligent, is still more unfortunate. He looks for something which he cannotfind, and cries for no reason, he flies into a passion for which noone can account; some fathers lament this, almost with despair. "Mychild is very intelligent, but so naughty! nothing will satisfy him. It is no use to buy toys for him, he is really overdone with them;nothing is of any use. " The mother asks anxiously, "What do you advise me to do when the childis naughty? and when he gets into passions? He is so naughty, he neverkeeps still; I cannot contend with him any more. " It is rare to hear a mother say, "My baby is good--it is alwaysasleep. " Who has not heard some poor mother shout in a threateningvoice to the crying babe in her arms, "Be quiet, be quiet, I tellyou!" and then, naturally the child is frightened, and redoubles itscries. This is the first contest of the man who enters the world: he has tostruggle with his parents, with those who have given him life. Andthis occurs because his infant life is "different" from that of hisparents; the child has to form himself, whereas his parents arealready formed. The child must move about a great deal, to coordinatehis movements, which are not yet under control; the parents, on theother hand, have their voluntary mobility organized, and can controltheir movements; perhaps also they are often tired after their work. The child's senses are not yet fully developed; his powers ofaccommodation are insufficient, and need help from touching andfeeling, in order to take account of objects as well as of spaces;and his eyes are rectified by the experience of his hands. Theparents, on the contrary, have developed senses, and have alreadycorrected the primitive illusions of these; their powers ofaccommodation are perfect, if they have not spoilt them by abuse; inevery way cerebral activity leads the senses to receive an exactimpression; they have no need to touch. Children are anxious to getknowledge of the external world; their parents know it too wellalready. Therefore they do not understand each other. Parents want their children to do as they do, and any diversity iscalled "naughtiness. " Think of the mother who drags her child alongwith her; he has to run while she walks; his legs are short, whilehers are long; weak, while hers are strong, he has to bear the weightof his body and his disproportionately large head, while the motherhas a head and body which are proportionally lighter and smaller. Thechild is tired and stands and cries, and the mother exclaims, "Comeon, you naughty little thing! I won't have any nonsense. Do you wantme to carry you, lazybones? No, I won't give in to you. " Or again, we see mothers who, when their children sit down on theground--or lay themselves flat on their stomachs with their feet inthe air, and support themselves on their elbows, while they look roundthem, call out, "Off the ground! You are making yourself dirty, naughty child. " All this may be translated in this way: "The child is different fromthe adult. The formation of his body is such that his head and hisbody are enormously large in comparison with his small, slender legs, because they are the part which will grow most. Hence the child cannotendure walking, and prefers to lie at full length, which is the mosthealthy position for him. He has a wonderful tendency towardsdevelopment; he gets his first ideas of external life and assists hissenses of sight and hearing by touching, in order to realize the formsof objects and distance. He moves continually, because he mustcoordinate and adapt his mobility. Hence he moves a great deal, walksvery little, throws himself on the ground, and touches everything, andthese are signs that he is alive, and that he is growing. " No--allthis is looked upon as naughtiness. This is evidently not a moral question. We do not seek for means tocorrect these depraved tendencies of the man who is but just born. No, it is not a moral question. It is, however, a question of life. The child seeks to live and we want to hinder him. In that sense itdoes become a moral question, as regards ourselves, since we havebegun to examine those errors on our part which do harm, and infringethe rights of others. Moreover, our own egotism is concealed beneathour errors of treatment; what we really resent in the child is that hegives us trouble; we struggle against him in order to protect our owncomfort, our own liberty. How often at the bottom of our hearts wehave felt that we have been unjust, but have stifled this impression. The little rebel does not accuse us or bear us malice. On thecontrary; just as he persists in his "naughtinesses" which are formsof life, so does he persist in loving us, in forgiving us everything, in forgetting our offenses, in longing to be with us, to embrace us, to sit upon our knees, to fall asleep on our bosom. This, too, is aform of life. And we, if we are tired or satiated, repulse him, masking this excess of selfishness under a hypocritical pretense ofconcern for the child himself: "Don't be so silly!" Insult andcalumny are always on our lips in the eternal refrain: "Naughty, naughty. " And yet the figure of the child might stand for that ofperfect goodness, which "thinketh no evil, delighteth not in iniquity, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things. " As tous--no, we cannot always say as much of ourselves. If the struggle between the adult and the child could be brought to anend in "peace, " and the adult, accepting the conditions of infantlife, would seek to help the child, the former would be able toadvance towards one of the most sublime enjoyments which Nature canbestow: that of following the natural development of the child, andseeing the man evolved. If the opening rosebud has become acommonplace of poetry, how much greater is the poetry of the infantsoul in its manifestations? Now this ineffable gift which was placedbeside us, in order that the miracle might accompany us and comfortus, we trample under foot in our wrath, blaspheming as if demented. * * * * * When the child desires to touch and to act, in spite of "punishmentsof every kind, " he persists in exercises necessary "to hisdevelopment, " and displays a strength of will in the matter againstwhich we are often powerless; he shows the same persistence as inbreathing, in crying when he is hungry, and in raising himself when hewants to walk. Thus the child turns to external objects which respondto his needs: if he finds them, he displays his powers in muscular orsensory exercises, and then he is joyous; and if he does not findthem, he is restless as when his desires are unsatisfied. Toys are toolight to satisfy arms which require to make the efforts necessary inlifting and moving objects; they are too complex to satisfy senseswhich need to analyze a single sensation. They are vanity, and inthemselves they represent simulacra and parodies of actual life. Andyet they form the world of our children, in which they are constrainedto "consume" their potential powers in a continuous exasperation, which incites them to destroy things. Happily, children do not hear the pronouncement of the common formula, that children have an "instinct" for destruction. Nor are theyfamiliar with the other axiom which contradicts this: That theinstinct of "property, " in other words, selfishness, is stronglydeveloped in them. On the contrary, the child has merely theoverpowering instinct to "grow, " and therefore to raise and to perfecthimself; in every period of life he seeks instinctively to preparehimself for the next period. This fact is very much morecomprehensible than the strange instincts we calumniously attribute tohim. Just try the experiment of allowing children to act for themselves;they are at once "transformed. " In the Guerrieri Gonzaga Children'sHouse, it sufficed to provide a comb, to transform the naughtiest, most rebellious of the children, the one whom the teacher designatedas in need of "taming, " into a lively and attractive little girl, whocombed the hair of her companions most carefully, with evidentdelight. We had only to say to an awkward, lethargic child, who cameforward holding out her arms to have her sleeves pulled down for her:"Do it yourself, " and there was a flash of intelligence in her eyes, her weary face was lighted up by an expression of satisfied pride andamazement, and she began to pull down her sleeves with positivedelight. When these children were given a little basin and a piece ofsoap, how carefully they emptied and replaced the receptacle, fearingto break it, and how caressingly they handled the soap, laying itdown very gently! It seemed as if the task had been confided to amechanism of moving figures, with an accompaniment of music: thefigures were the children, the music was their own joy. These children, occupied in dressing, cleaning, washing, combing, cleansing, and arranging their environment, work _themselves_. As aresult, they love useful objects so much that they will preserve apiece of paper for years, and instead of knocking against furniture, and breaking objects, they perfect their movements. But we place ourselves beside these lives which are hasteningtriumphantly to their salvation, and seek to bind them to ourselves, in spite of the struggle which has begun and the fear we have alreadyprovoked. We approach them gently and seductively; and because when achild breaks things he is obviously grieved, and therefore wouldendeavor to correct and perfect his movements, we spare him thisgrief, which would be in the nature of "an act of repentance on thepart of the muscles which have transgressed, " and give him unbreakableobjects: plates, basins, and drinking vessels made of metal, toys madeof stuff, woolly bears, india-rubber dolls. Henceforth his "errors"will be concealed. Every error of the muscles will pass unnoticed bythe child: he will no longer feel the pain of evil-doing, repentance, an effort to perfect himself. He will be able to sink into error;behold him, clumsy, heavy, without expression in his face, a stuffedbear in his arms! He is now bound fast to vanity and error, and haslost all consciousness thereof. The adult hems him in ever more closely: he does everything for thechild, dresses him, even feeds him. But the child's desire is not tobe dressed and materially nourished: his deep desire is to "do, " toexercise his own powers intelligently, and thus to rise to his higherlevel. With what subtle insinuations does the adult seek to confoundhim! You are exerting yourself and why? That you may be washed? Thatyou may put on your pinafore? You can have all this done for youwithout any effort. You will find it all done with greater perfectionand ease. Without moving a finger you shall have a hundred times moredone for you than you could accomplish for yourself, even with all theexertion of which you are capable. You need not even put the breadinto your mouth, you shall be spared even this trouble, and you willtake in nourishment all the more copiously. The devil was less cruel when he tempted Christ in the wilderness, showing Him all the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them. "Allthese things will I give Thee if thou wilt fall down and worship me. "But the child has not the power to answer like Christ: "Get theehence, Satan; for it is written: Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and Him only shalt thou serve. " The child ought to obey God, who hasprescribed that his nature shall demand action; and that he shouldconquer his world as he has conquered life, to the end that he mayelevate himself and not to the end that he may acquire externalsplendor and comfort. When tempted, however, he cannot resist. He endsby possessing the objects, the pretty, ready-made things; his soulmakes no progress; he loses sight of the goal. Behold the childclumsy, unsteady, inept, enslaved! Those incapable muscles encase acaptive soul. He is oppressed far more by this fatal inertia than bythe physical contests which initiated his relations with the adult. Often he has fits of rage like the sinner; he bites the bear that hecannot break, cries desperately when he is washed and has his haircombed, rebels and struggles when he is dressed. The only movementsallowed by the devil are those of anger. But gradually he sinks intothe depression of impotence. Adults say: "Children are ungrateful;they have none of the higher feelings as yet; they care only for theirown pleasure. " Who has not seen patient mothers and nurses, "bearing" from morningtill night the humors of four or five discontented children, who arescreaming and playing pranks with their metal plates and rag dolls?They seem to say: "Children are like this, " and a benevolentcompassion takes the place of the natural reaction of impatience. Ofsuch persons we say: "How good they are! how patient they are!" But the devil, too, is patient after this fashion: he too cancontemplate the agonies and impotent rebellions of the souls which arein his power, which are prostrate among vanities, oppressed by a greatquantity of means, the ends of which they have lost, souls in whichthe consciousness of sin is extinguished, and which are graduallysinking into an abyss of mortal error. He is patient in contemplatingthem, in supporting their cries--and he too offers them bears andrubber dolls, and feeds them, stuffing them, that is to say, with newvanities which mask their errors, and nourish their bodies. He who, seized with doubt, should ask concerning these mothers andnurses: "Are they really good?" might get an idea from the reply ofChrist: "None is good save God, " that is, the Creator. Goodness is theattribute of God. He who creates is good, only creation is good. Hencehe only is good who helps creation to achieve its ends. * * * * * Now we come to the school. Conceptions of goodness and naughtinessmust be very definite here, for when a teacher has to leave theclass-room, she calls one of the children, who, during her absence, ischarged to write the names of the "Good" and the "Naughty" in twocolumns on the blackboard under these headings. The child, however, who is called out is quite capable of judging, for nothing is easierthan to distinguish between goodness and naughtiness in schools. Thegood are those who are quiet and motionless; the naughty are those whotalk and move. The results of the classification are not very serious. The teacher gives good or bad "conduct marks. " The consequences arenot disastrous; they are, so to speak, akin to the social judgmentspassed upon men whose conduct is appraised as good or bad. This doesnot affect society, and the judgment entails neither honors norimprisonment. It is merely a pronouncement. But "esteem" and even"honor" depend upon it, things which have a high moral value. Inschool "good conduct" means inertia, and "bad conduct" means activity. The "esteem" of the head mistress, of the teacher and ofschoolfellows, the whole "moral" part, in fact, of the system ofrewards and punishments, depend upon these appreciations. As insociety, they require no "judicial qualifications, " no "authority" inthose who form them; they are based on something that "all" can seeand judge; they are the true moral judgment of the environment;indeed, any one of the children themselves, or even the class-roomattendant, may write the list on the blackboard. There is, in fact, nothing mysterious or philosophical in conduct; it is the sum of actscommitted, the facts of life itself, accessible to all, whichdetermine it. And all can see it and pronounce upon it. On the other hand, there are much more serious acts, the consequencesof which affect the community and touch those principles of justice onwhich all are entitled to rely; they therefore require "authoritativejudgments" against which there is no appeal; a kind of Supreme Courthastily convoked. When in an examination the children, seated side by side, have thereand then to give samples of what they have learnt, that is, to hand inthat veritable legal document, an evidence visible and accessible toall judgments, the written task, be it dictation, composition orproblem; if then one child helps another, he is not merely naughty, but wicked, for he has not only displayed activity, but activity forthe benefit of another. The punishment may be very serious: theannulment of the examination, which may sometimes mean the loss of awhole year's schooling, the repetition of that year's course. A childwho can help another is kind; well, he may be punished by having topass the examination again, several months later, or even by having togo back for a whole year of his life and begin over again. There aremany cases of this kind: the family of this kind-hearted child mayhave been very poor, and the child may have been making a great effortto come out well, and so to be able soon to help his family by his ownchildish work; who knows how his comprehension of this familycondition may touch the heart of a child? He may have seen in hisbewildered schoolfellow another poor boy in like circumstances. Howoften some quarrel in his home, or insufficient food, may have causedhim to lie in bed, sleepless and excited, for hours? In the morninghis mind was confused. Perhaps his unfortunate schoolfellow had beenin like case just on the eve of the examinations. It is essential to understand certain situations: the mother at homecounts the days of each school year that passes, because to her theseare so many days sacrificed; she is certainly following her boy at theexamination with a heart full of anxiety; her face at the window whenthe child comes in sight asks, when he is yet afar: "How did it go?"This picture was perhaps present in the heart of the good-naturedchild when he helped his comrade. He might, of course, keep all this to himself, perfect his own work, or hand it in first. For justice decrees that the time spent on thework should be counted by the minute, almost as by the chronometers ofpsychological experiment. Justice is rigorous. On the paper handed inby the child the teacher writes the hour: handed in at 10. 32, handedin at 11. 5. If two papers are about equal in merit, so that it canhardly be said from the contents which is the better of the two, though both are superior to all the rest, a difficult case arises: itmust be decided which is to be the first. It is a matter of greatweight, because the prize is in question. When there is a doubt, thehour decides. One paper was handed in at 10. 30, the other at 10. 35. The one handed in at 10. 30 is pronounced the first, because the writerwas able to do work of equal merit in five minutes less than hisrival. On what may not a prize sometimes depend! Hence a diligentchild must be very careful in his preparations for an examination; thetwo in question were equally clever and equally quick; but one hadtaken care to have good pens and flowing ink, and the other had not. Thus his negligence cost him the prize. It is true that the parentsand not the children provide the pens. In strict justice all shouldhave the same pens, but here we enter into a sea of scruples whichmight obscure justice. No, justice must be rigorous, but withoutscruples. Now the clever child who helped his companion lost time, and so by this alone he lost part of his merit; he therefore"sacrificed" himself for a comrade. No considerations, no extenuating circumstances will be allowed tomitigate the punishment. Family conditions, the mother ... Nothing canavail against the canceling of an examination. Even in the case ofgreat criminals extenuating circumstances are admitted in mitigationof punishment. But school is another matter; here we have to deal withdefinite facts: there has been an infiltration of one mind intoanother, and we are no longer able to judge the children individuallyby their work. Moreover, the examination is the individual test. Ifthe canceling occurs at the final examination, the culprit must gothrough the year again, and when a year is repeated it is the entireyear. It is not as with convicts, where months and weeks are takeninto account. Here the unit of measurement is the school year. Andthen there is another point to consider in the case of convicts: theircrimes may have been induced by irresistible forces and conditions, driving them to do evil.... But who is there who cannot refrain fromdoing good? To do good is certainly not an irresistible impulse! However, to obviate such inconvenient impulses, school educateschildren to refrain from mutual aid throughout the year. It goes evenfarther: it directly prevents the children from communicating one withanother. What a chase it is! The clever, practical teacher adoptsregular strategic tactics, and is familiar with all the child'sdevices in this covert and deceitful contest. Children are "capable ofanything" to support one another and communicate one with another. If"prompting" when one child is repeating a lesson might reach theteacher's ear, we find a companion sitting in front of him with theopen book fastened to his shoulders, where the other is able to readit. Or if the wily teacher makes the patient come out from among thedesks in order to prevent him from receiving any help, his companionsmay make signs to him, perhaps by means of the deaf-and-dumb alphabet. Then we find the teacher using the blackboard as a pretext for turningthe pupil with his face to the wall, the while she keeps her burningeyes fixed on the class. Thus the patient is isolated. "Nothingescapes" a clever teacher; she is capable of surprising a rolled-upnote slipped by one child under the desk of another; and ofconfiscating a piece of blotting-paper which two children interchangeon the pretext of using it, when they have written upon it. For this reason properly constructed desks should be open in front, because otherwise it is so easy to pass things under them; whereaswith desks which are not only hygienic but "moral, " such subterfugeswould be difficult to carry out. "Indeed, these desks which are open in front also facilitate surveillance of the scholars from the moral point of view; because, always seated, placed side by side without any possibility of spiritual communion, their heads dazed by the continuous vociferation of the teacher, these children very often contract vicious habits, such as onanism, which originate in the school itself. These are less openly discussed than spinal curvature, myopia, and exhaustion from overwork, but the evil has long been recognized, even before science entered upon the scene to make a study of the maladies engendered by school conditions. The sedentary habit impedes circulation in the pelvic basin, and induces stagnation of the blood; moreover, what other outlet is provided for the nervous energies? And the evil spreads in an alarming manner. "But open desks make subterfuges impossible. All moral devices for combating abuses flourish in the school. In the schools in Rome, for example, order and surveillance are so perfect that children are not even allowed to go to the lavatory. It is well known what disorder was caused by this 'question of the lavatory. ' If a child became tired of sitting still or listening to the teacher, he asked leave to go out: he was capable of remaining shut up in the lavatory for a considerable time, in order to raise his spirits a little in a place he preferred to that he had just left, for pupils are not allowed to linger in the corridors; the attendants are always on the watch. But these visits to the lavatory had become such an abuse that it was decided to take remedial measures. To-day the physiological time is reckoned more or less exactly, and at a stated hour the whole of the pupils, accompanied by the teacher, marching in line two by two, like soldiers drilling, proceed to the lavatories. The children of the first file enter in succession and the others halt, but continue to mark time; as by degrees the children come out of the lavatory, they form in file again, and begin once more to mark time together with their companions. The movement seems, indeed, appropriate to the occasion. We will say nothing of the state in which the last children in the file of forty or fifty (who did not go in as a pretence, since the 'physiological time' had been reckoned) will find the lavatory; nor will we ask what has become of hygiene. Let us look at the exterior of the lavatories; they have little doors with a large space above and a large space below; thus modesty, and at the same time morality, are safeguarded; within, nothing but the proper duty can be performed. The more modern lavatories in schools, however, are made without seats; with an aperture in the ground to obviate contact and ensure hygiene: the uncomfortable position prevents a longer sojourn than is necessary. It appears that this is the best practical method for installations of this kind in common lodging-houses, casual wards, and schools. " * * * * * School is the place where the "social sentiment" is developed; it isthe child's society. As a fact, it is not the school in itself, northe intercourse of the scholars, but the education given in the mannerdescribed above which is designed to develop this sentiment. Hencewhen my method became known, although I had spoken therein of placeswhere children live together agreeably and work, I was asked in acritical tone: "And how will the social sentiment be developed if eachchild works independently?" We must therefore conclude that thissystem of regimentation in which the children do everything at thesame moment, even to visiting the lavatory, is supposed to develop thesocial sentiment. The society of the child is therefore the antithesisof adult society, where sociability implies a free and well-bredinterchange of courtesies and mutual aid, although each individualattends to his own business; in the society of the child it impliesidentity of physical attitudes and uniformity of collective actions, together with a total disregard of all pleasant and courteousrelations; mutual help which is a virtue in adult society, is hereconsidered the gravest fault, the worst offense against discipline. Modern methods of instruction recommend the teacher to conclude everylesson with a moral, like the classic fables. Whether the lessontreats of birds, butter, or triangles, it must always end by pointinga moral. "The teacher must miss no opportunity, " says the pedagogist;"moralization is the true aim of the school. " "Mutual aid" is the burden of the pedagogistic refrain, for the_leitmotif_ of all moralities, not excepting that of the school, is"to love one another. " To exhort children to help one another and showmutual affection the teacher perhaps adopts a psychological method inthree periods distinguishing perception, association, and volition; orshe may adopt the method of cause in its relation to effect; this isleft to her discretion; but she must always keep her class in a stateof "discipline" and "goodness, " for these are its essentialconstituents. But the factor which affords the most substantial support to theeducative organism of the school is the system of prizes andpunishments. Pedagogists make this the main feature of their treatment. All admitmore or less the need of some external stimulus to induceschool-children to study and behave well, although some are of opinionthat it would be well to instil into the child the love of good forits own sake, and that a sense of duty rather than the fear ofpunishment should deter from evil. This opinion is generallyrecognized as lofty, but impracticable. To imagine that the childcould be stimulated to work merely by a desire to do his duty is a"pedagogic absurdity"; nor is it credible that a child could perseverein the paths of industry and good conduct merely with a view to adistant end, such as the fine social position he might some day winfor himself in the world by means of study. Some direct stimulus, someimmediate token of approval, is necessary. True, it has been deemedadvisable to make punishments less rigorous and the bestowal of prizesless ostentatious, and such modifications have now become general. Indeed, those fustigations and corporal punishments which not verylong ago were usual in prisons, lunatic asylums, and schools have beenabandoned in schools; the penalties of to-day are slight: bad marks, reproofs, unfavorable reports to the family, suspension of attendance. The ceremonial prize-giving is also a thing of the past, the solemnfunction at which the scholars mounted the platform as in triumph toreceive their prizes from the hands of the noblest and mostdistinguished persons of the neighborhood, who accompanied thepresentation with amiable words of encouragement while the public, consisting mainly of proud and agitated parents, murmured theirapproval and admiration. All these superfluities have been abolished;the prize, the object, is simply handed to the winner in an ante-roomof the school. The important matter is that the child shall receive the object he hasdeserved. The medals, too, with which pupils were formerly able toadorn their breasts, are now abolished; the prize is a book, a usefulobject. A sense of the practical has found its way even into ourschools. Perhaps the good children will presently be rewarded by thepresentation of a piece of soap, or the material for an apron, in a_tête-a-tête_ between giver and recipient. But a prize there must needs be. However, throughout all the discussions of the pedagogists and theevolutions of punishments and prizes, no one has dreamt of askinghimself what is the good which is rewarded, and what the evil which ispunished, or whether, before urging children on to an undertaking, itwould not be well to cast a glance at the undertaking itself, andjudge of its value. At last positive studies on the school question have shed sufficientlight to enable us to construct a new base for the old question. Is itwell to allure children by a prize, to incite them to exhaust theirnervous systems and injure their eyesight? And is it well to checkthem by means of punishments, when, urged by an overpowering instinctof self-preservation, they seek to avoid these perils? At last we allknow that the prize-winners of the elementary schools are the mediocrepupils of the high school; that the prize-winners of the high schoolare the exhausted students of the academies; and that those who gainprizes throughout their school career are those who are most easilyvanquished in the battle of life. Knowing this, is it well to stimulate on the one hand and to represson the other, to the end that children may remain in this ruinouscondition? Are not the perils of school life already serious enough, without adding stimuli to induce them to throw themselves into theseperils with all their energies? A number of deeply interestingcomparative studies have been made of late on clever and stupidschool-children, those who gain prizes and those who incur punishment. Certain anthropologists, somewhat ingenious in matters of science, have studied the question in such good faith that they have evenproposed to inquire whether the more brilliant prize-winners showevidences of morphological superiority, congenital marks of a naturalprivilege, a brain more highly developed than that of mediocrity. Onthe contrary, anthropological notes reveal their physical inferiority, i. E. Their low stature and their remarkably narrow chest measurements. Their heads are in no way distinguished from those of less cleverscholars; many of them wear spectacles. Thus we get a clearer picture of the life of a child who diligentlyperforms all his tasks with a dread of making mistakes which maybecome positive anguish; who learns all his lessons, thus of necessitydepriving himself of a walk, a saunter, an hour of rest. Obsessed byanxiety to be the first, or even stimulated by illusions of a futuremore brilliant than that of his companions, exhilarated by the praisesand prizes which make him believe himself to be "one of the hopes ofhis country, " and the "solace of his parents, " he rushes forward tofuture impotence, as if dazed by a fairy vision. His carelesscompanions, on the other hand, have well-developed chests, and are themerriest boys in the class. Other types of clever pupils are those who are helped at home bytutors, or educated mothers who devote themselves to theiradvancement; while other types of dull pupils, often punished, arepoor children who are not made welcome in their homes, but are left tothemselves, sometimes in the streets; or who are already working fortheir bread in the early hours of the morning, before coming toschool. In an inquiry I made, the children who were praised and passedwithout examination were in the category of those who brought a goodluncheon with them; the children at the bottom of the class, whoincurred punishments, were those who brought no provisions, or only apiece of bread. It must not be supposed that the above is an exhaustive enumeration ofthe causes which contribute to the deceptive phenomenon connected withprizes and punishments; but it is obvious that a clearly defined roadhas been marked out which should lead us to comprehension of thefacts. Prizes and punishments are not merely final episodes, they areexponents of the moral organization of the school. Just as theannulment of the examination of a pupil who has helped a companion isbut the extreme instance of "an education" which tends to isolate theindividual in his egotism; so the prize and the punishment are theextreme incidents of the constant principle on which the organism ofthe school is based: emulation. The principle is that children, seeingothers cleverer than themselves, who get high marks, praises andprizes, will be stimulated to imitate these, to do better, to overtaketheir companions. Thus what may be described as a kind of mechanism isevolved, which uplifts the whole school, not merely towards work, buttowards effort. It is the moral purpose to accustom children to"suffer. " Let us take an example of such emulation. When the observant doctorentered the school, his attention was directed to the organs of sense, and he found many slightly deaf children among the pupils. Hearingless than the others, they appeared less intelligent, and as a"punishment" they had been relegated to the desks at the very back ofthe schoolroom. They were often set to repeat because they had neverlearnt to write "from dictation, " and made incredible and unpardonablemistakes. Emulation and punishment had alike proved powerless; noteven when they were placed as far as possible from the teacher didthese deaf children improve! There were also lively children, who wererepeatedly punished to induce them to keep still, and who were vainlyexhorted to imitate companions whose conduct was exemplary. A largenumber of children suffering from adenoids, who consequently breathedthrough their mouths, and were incapable of fixing their attention, got bad marks and punishments because they were never attentive;meanwhile this defect of the open mouth was vainly combated by thekind and careful teacher, who multiplied moral tales concerning theugliness of children who keep their mouths open, and, terrible torelate, even sit with their fingers in their mouths! Many of the lazy children, who would not do the gymnastic exerciseslike the rest, who made pretexts for stopping and thus set a badexample, were found to be suffering from heart affections, anemia, orliver complaints. Yet one of the most brilliant examples of emulationis that of the gymnastic competitions, competitions in endurance andcompetitions in speed. The children are encouraged to continue theexercise as long as possible; or to cover the ground in the shortestpossible time; here effort is the basis of the exercise. Nowanthropological study has revealed the fact that there are twoprincipal types of constitution: one in which the chest predominates, the other in which the legs predominate. When the chest is welldeveloped and the lungs and heart strong, endurance is more naturalthan agility; the opposite holds good of the other type, in which, byreason of the length of the legs and the slightness of the chest, agility prevails. No emulation can change one type into the other. Morphological study of the child, whose body is transformed insuccessive ages, should be the basis for the organization of gymnasticexercises, and not emulation. That which has its origin in the body, as constitution or disease, should be considered in the body. Nomiracle can be performed by the sentiment of emulation. This prejudice in favor of emulation is so deeply rooted that when, in1898, I began my campaign in Italy to procure the formation ofseparate classes for deficient children in connection with theelementary schools, the principle of emulation was urged against me:the deficient children would no longer be helped by the example of theclever, industrious children; and when these weaklings had beendeprived of the stimulus of emulation, they would accomplishabsolutely nothing. But emulation can only avail among equals. When "competitions" takeplace, "champions" are chosen. To a deficient child, the example of aclever companion is merely humiliating; his inferiority, his impotenceare perpetually cast in his teeth by the victorious career of hiscomrade. He becomes more and more discouraged as the zealous teacherscolds and punishes him for his weakness and points out the radiantexample offered by the strong. What would give him a ray of light, aglimpse of hope, would be for him to see the possibility of doingsomething within the limits of his own powers which might neverthelesshave a value of its own; to penetrate into some sphere where he toomight compete with some one and be encouraged. Then he would be likeothers, he would be exhilarated and comforted; and the feeble flowerwithin him might expand. He has infinitely greater need ofencouragement, solace, and external stimuli to excite him to activitythan the normal child. And what happens to the normal child, the clever boy, who serves as anexample to his inferiors? Whom does he emulate? Who carries him alongthat he may ascend? If all need to be drawn upwards in order to climb, who is to draw him who stands above all? This time the question is outof place. In his case, the impulse will be retrograde. Here we havethe thrice happy type of him who competes with his inferiors! Thismakes me think of a description given by Voisin of a competitionarranged by one of the idiots in his asylum. This boy, who was verytall, selected all the shortest and youngest of the idiots, andchallenged them to a race; he always came in first and was delighted. Such an example is not, however, peculiar to Voisin's asylum; it isthe _moral attitude_ of all who are ambitious, but idle, and areanxious to outshine others without too much fatigue, withoutperfecting themselves, counting much on the phenomena of contrast. Thus we find a fluent orator seeking to be preceded by an unskilfulspeaker; and pretty girls who have not the means to adorn themselvesand thus set off their beauty, are fond of going about with theirplainer friends. I have read an amusing fable, which was evidently a parody of thisphenomenon. There was once a king who had such a long nose that it waspositively ridiculous. When a neighboring king proposed to visit him, he was much perturbed, being ashamed to exhibit his defect to aneighboring people. Then the prime minister thought of an expedient, and propounded this practical plan to the king: "Your Majesty, on thisoccasion let your noble court retire; I will search throughout thekingdom for the men with the most prominent noses, and for the timethey shall constitute your court. " This was done; and such nosesappeared on the scene that that of the king seemed quite normal incomparison. Thus the august colleague noticed that the court wasremarkable for its noses, but did not perceive that the king had anose of abnormal length. These stories of the competition between idiots and the court of nosesmake us smile; but the normal competitions between our children arenot matters for mirth. The healthy children who, when side by sidewith the deaf, the sickly, and the deficient are only conscious oftheir superiority; the fortunate children who have the help ofeducated mothers and are brought into contact with poor, unhappy, neglected children, merely feel that they are examples to these;well-fed children refreshed by a long sleep in comfortable beds, placed side by side with little busy workers who get up before sunriseto sell newspapers, or deliver milk, and arrive at school alreadytired, imagine themselves to be superior to these, and to serve as a"stimulus" to them "to do better"--all these normal children are onthe wrong moral track. They are being misled into an unconsciousacceptance of injustice. They are being deceived. They are not better, they are only more fortunate than their companions; their kindlyhearts should be led to recognize the truth; to pity the, sickly, toconsole the unfortunate, to admire the heroes. It is not their faultif, instead of all this, vanity, ambition, and error spring up intheir hearts. It is true that the teacher makes an attempt to educate their heartsaright, reminding them of ailing, unfortunate, and heroic children bymeans of moral stories which all learn without distinction in the samemanner. She lays stress upon incidents illustrating the good feelingof mankind. Yet no one ever considers that the ailing, theunfortunate, and the heroic are all there among them, since allchildren go to school; but they cannot communicate with each other andrecognize each other; and thus these subjects who are actually presentare distinguished only as the ones who receive all the scoldings, punishments, and humiliations while their more fortunate companionslord it over them arrogantly as their examples, gaining prizes andpraise, but losing their own souls in the process. In this moral confusion, where man "loses sight of God, " as in hell, what strong spirit is stimulated to develop all his preciousactivities and cultivate his own heart? All are lost, the strong aswell as the weak; few indeed are those who possess an individualinstinct capable of saving them, who do not succumb to the temptationsof prizes, threats of punishment, to the continual suggestions ofemulation and of fraudulent rivalry, and who come out with theirpowers still intact and their hearts pure, sensible of the great factsof humanity. Those who pass through the ordeal untouched by its emptyglories and persecutions, and set forth on the path of a productivelife which attains to beauty and goodness by internal energy and issusceptible to truth--these are they whom we hail as men of genius, asbenefactors of the human race. * * * * * When we come to analyze good and evil positively, we feel that in_reality_ much of the "evil" we theoretically deplore in individualsmay be resolved into external causes. The depravity of the massesresolves itself into the combined effects of pauperism anddrunkenness; crime into degeneration; the faults of children andscholars arise from the darkness of prejudice. But as these causes arenot absolute and immutable, but are related to transitory states whichmay be altered, the ancient philosophic conception of evil resolvesitself partially into so many social questions and actions. To givework and combat the drink habit--this it is which contributes largelyto morality by removing so many causes of evil. To undertake theregeneration and education of the degenerate, is to combat crime, andtherefore to promote morality. Thus, if in schools the dense darkness of prejudice is the cause ofinnumerable moral ills, to reform the school by the help of naturalprinciples will be the first step towards its moralization. It is in this direction, then, that we must face the great question, not by analytical examination of the system of prizes and punishments, of the principle of emulation, of the most opportune and practicalmanner of inculcating moral principles, nor by the creation of newdecalogues. That which we have hitherto regarded so lightly as adidactic problem is, on the contrary, a great and veritable socialquestion. When a moral problem is limited to the _effects_ of preventablecauses, it is merely apparent. Thus, for instance, let us imagine fora moment a populous quarter, where pauperism is rampant and the poorwill fight for a piece of bread; where dirt, drinking-shops and civicneglect degrade the inhabitants; where all, men and women alike, giveway readily to vice. Our sole impression of such people at the momentis: "What wicked people!" On the other hand, let us take the modernquarter of an industrious city, where the houses of the people arehygienic, where the workpeople receive a fair remuneration for theirlabor, where popular theaters, conducted with a true sense of art, have taken the place of public-houses, and let us enter one of therestaurants where workpeople are enjoying their food in a quiet, civilized fashion; we should be inclined to say: "What good people!"But have they really become good? Those who ameliorated their socialconditions were the good people. But the individuals who havebenefited by their exertions "live better"; they are not, strictlyspeaking, "more meritorious" in the moral sense. If they were, we should only need to imagine a society in which theeconomic problem had been solved, to behold men who have become"moral" solely in virtue of having been born in a different age. It isobvious that the moral question is a very different one; it is aquestion of life, a question of "nature, " and one which cannot besolved by external eventualities. Men may be more or less fortunate, they may be born in more or less civilized surroundings, but they willalways be men confronted by a "moral question, " which goes down deeperthan fortune or civilization. It is very easy to be convinced that the so-called "naughtiness" ofchildren is the expression of a "struggle for spiritual existence";they want to make the men within them live, and we try to hinder them;we offer them the poisons of darkness and error. They fight for theirspiritual bread as the poor fight for material bread; and degradethemselves by falling victims to our seductions just as the poordegrade themselves by succumbing to the fascination of alcohol; and inthis struggle and this degradation children have revealed themselvesas the "poor" and "needy, " neglected and destitute. None has everdemonstrated more clearly than they that "man does not live by breadalone, " and that the "question of bread" is not the real "question ofman. " All the suffering, all the struggles, all the claims of societyin the past with regard to bodily needs are repeated here with amazingclarity in connection with spiritual needs. Children want to grow, toperfect themselves, to nourish their intelligence, to develop theirinternal energies, to form their characters and to these ends theyneed to be liberated from slavery, and to conquer "the means of life. "It is not enough to nourish their bodies: they are hungry forintellectual food; the clothes which protect their limbs from the coldare not enough for children: they demand the garments of strength andthe ornaments of grace to protect and adorn the spirit. Why have weadults stifled these wants till we have almost come to believe thatthe economic question is the true solution of the problem of humanlife? And why have we never imagined that, even after such a solution, strife, anger, despair, and degradation might reappear as a result ofhigher desires left unsatisfied? Such strife, anger, despair anddegradation we encounter continually in the children of to-day, whoare nevertheless well fed, well clothed and well warmed, in accordancewith the standards of perfected physical hygiene. To respond to the intellectual needs of man in such a manner as tosatisfy them is to make an important contribution to morality. Indeedour children, when they have been able to occupy themselves freelywith intelligent work, and have also been free to respond to theirinternal wants, to occupy themselves for a long time with chosenstimuli, to perform abstract operations when they were sufficientlymature, to concentrate their minds in meditation, have shown thatorder and serenity have been evolved within them; and after this, grace of movement, the capacity for enjoyment of the beautiful, sensibility to music, and finally, amenity in their relations to eachother, have sprung up like a jet of water from an internal fount. All this has been a work of "liberation. " We have not made ourchildren moral by any special means; we have not taught them to"overcome their caprices" and to sit quietly at work; we have notinculcated calm and order by exhorting them to follow the examples ofothers, and explaining how necessary order is to man; we have notlectured them on mutual courtesy, to instil the respect due to thework of others, and the patience with which they should wait in ordernot to infringe the rights of others. There has been none of all this;we have merely set the child free, and helped him to "live. " It is_he_ who has taught _us_ "how" the child lives, and what other needshe has besides his material wants. Thereupon an activity formerly unknown among little children, togetherwith the virtues of industry, perseverance and patience, manifestedthemselves amidst crises of joy, in an atmosphere of habitualserenity. These children had entered upon the paths of peace. Anobstacle hitherto opposed to nature had been removed. And just as men satisfied by nourishing food and removed from thedangers of poisons, have grown calmer, and have shown themselvescapable of preferring the higher pleasures to base and degradingindulgence, so the child, his internal needs satisfied, has enteredthe sphere of serenity and has shown his tendency to ascend. All this, however, has not touched the roots of the moral question;but it has stripped and purged it of all the dross that encumbered it. The more fully a man's wants are satisfied, the happier he is; but heis not already "full of merit, " as we divine that a man gifted with alofty moral sense ought really to be. Rather have we deprived man ofhis merits; "goodness" has disappeared as well as "wickedness" at theadvent of social reform. When we discovered that many forms ofgoodness were forms of good fortune, and many forms of evil-doing wereforms of misfortune, we left man absolutely naked, stripped bare bytruth. He must then take up his real life at its roots and "acquiremerit. " At this point he will begin to be born anew morally, emergingfrom the pure and essential chrysalis of the "hygienically" livingman. * * * * * If the whole structure of our educative method starts from an act ofconcentrated attention to a sensory stimulus, and builds itself up onthe education of the senses, limiting itself to this, it wouldevidently not take the whole man into consideration. For if man doesnot live by material bread alone, neither does he live solely byintellectual bread. The stimuli of the environment are not only the objects, but also thepersons, with whom our relations are not merely sensory. In fact, weare not content to admire in them that beauty to which the Greeks wereso sensitive, or to listen to their speech or their song. The truerelations between man and man, though they are initiated by means ofthe senses, are established in sympathy. The "moral sense" of which positive science speaks is to a greatextent the sense of sympathy with our fellows, the comprehension oftheir sorrows, the sentiment of justice: the lack of these sentimentsconvulses normal life. We cannot become moral by committing codes andtheir applications to memory, for memory might fail us a thousandtimes, and the slightest passion might overcome us; criminals, infact, even when they are most astute and wary students of codes, oftenviolate them; while normal persons, although entirely ignorant of thelaws, never transgress them, owing to "an internal sense which guidesthem. " Positive science includes in the term "moral sense" something complexwhich is, at the same time, sensibility to public opinion, to law, andto religion; and multiplying it thus, it does not clearly define inwhat "moral sense" consists. We talk of it intuitively; each one haswithin himself something that "responds" to the appellation; and bythis internal response he must understand and decide in what this"moral sense" consists. But religion is simple and precise: it callsthis internal sense which lies at the root of life, Love. Social lawsdo not enter into this any more than does the entire universe. Love isthe contact between the soul and God; and when this exists, all therest is vanity. Good springs therefrom naturally, as sunbeams radiatefrom the sun. Creation itself has been given in charge of thiswellspring of love, and it is love which maintains it, as thecontribution of the creature to the provident forces of nature. Those biological studies which seek to probe the secrets of naturehave also recognized love as the key of life. Scientists have at lastperceived, after much research, this most evident fact: that it islove which preserves the animal species, and not the "struggle forexistence. " In fact, the struggle for existence tends to destroy; andas regards survival, this is not the exclusive privilege of the"fittest, " as was at first supposed. But existence is indeed bound upwith love. Indeed, the individuals who struggle and conquer areadults; but who is it that protects the new-born creature and infantlife in process of formation? If a hard and horny covering is thenatural protection of his species, he does not possess it; if it isstrength of muscle, he is weak; if it is tusks, he is without them; ifit is agility, he cannot yet move; if it is fecundity, he is not yetmature. Therefore, all species should have become extinct, for thereis none so strong but that he once was weak; and there is no infancywhich is not more feeble than any adult life. It is love whichprotects all this weakness, and explains "survival. " Maternal love, indeed, is studied to-day with the deepest attention by our scientistsas a natural phenomenon. If the struggle for existence presented to usa uniform picture of destruction, the phenomena of maternal love areto-day revealed to us in the richest and most fascinating forms, whichalmost represent the occult and sentimental aspect of the marvelousvarieties of forms in nature. It is seen at last to be one of the"fundamental characteristics of the species, " which should berecognized by all students. Even insects, which Fabre has described with such a wealth of detail, small and remote as they are from ourselves, exhibit wonderfulphenomena of maternal love. One of the first articles published by anaturalist on these phenomena, _La Psychologie d'une Araignée_ (ThePsychology of a Spider) might serve as the motive of a drama. Thespider, as is well known, makes a bag of threads, which she generallyattaches to the backs of leaves, and in it she deposits and preservesher eggs; she gets into it herself together with the eggs, to protectthe treasure of the species. If the bag should be broken at any point, the spider promptly repairs it. By way of experiment, a spider wastaken out of the bag, and kept at a distance for twenty days. What isa spider? A few cubic millimetres of a dark, flabby substance withoutbrain or heart, whose life is so short that twenty days constitute avery long interval for it; but this small creature never relaxed herefforts to escape, and her agitation never abated; finally, when shewas liberated at the end of the twenty days, she fled to the bag, hidherself in it, and repaired the walls. Where was all this love andmemory concentrated? This mother-spider was then removed from thenest, and another spider was introduced, which at once adopted theoffspring, acted the mother, defended the nest from attack, andrepaired the walls if they were damaged. There must therefore be amaternal instinct in the species, independent of actual maternity. Butwhen the real mother approached the adopted bag, not only did thefoster-mother make no attempt to defend it, but she fled and gave upher place. By what phenomenon of telepathy did the visitor concealedin the bag feel the maternal power approaching? The following was theend of the experiment: the little spiders were hatched, and remainedin the bag together with their mother; the experimenter tore the bagto see what would happen; the little spiders fled in every direction, but the mother remained crouching on the tattered fragments of thenest, and died, almost violently, killed by the destruction of heroffspring. Maternal love, therefore, does not require complicatedorgans; it needs neither brain, heart, nor senses, and seems almost toexist without matter; it is the force which life assumes to protectand preserve itself, a force which seems to exist before and toaccompany creation, like that wisdom of which Solomon speaks: "TheLord possessed me in the beginning of his way, before his works ofold.... When there were no depths, I was brought forth.... Then I wasby him as a master workman, and I was daily his delight, rejoicingalways before him.... Whoso findeth me findeth life. " * * * * * But long before biologists perceived that love is the powerful forcewhich protects the species, and explains its survival, religion hadpointed to love as the force which preserves life. In order to live, it is not enough to be created; the creature must also be loved. Thisis the law of nature. "He who loveth not ... Abideth in death. " WhenMoses gave the decalogue which was to guide the Hebrews to salvation, he preceded it by the law: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with allthy heart, and thy neighbor as thyself. " When the Pharisees came toChrist, asking Him to declare the Law, He answered: "Do you not know?Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself"; as if to say: the law isevident and unique, it is the law of life, and for this reason mustalways have existed, from the very beginning of the world. But to St. Peter, who was to be the head of the new religion, love the transitionfrom the old to the new order was more fully explained: "Love, " saidChrist, "even as I have loved you, " that is to say, not as you arecapable of loving, but as I am capable of loving. There is a deep gulfbetween the manner in which men are able to love themselves and thatin which Christ can love men. Men often rush headlong to their ownperdition; they are capable of confounding good with evil, life withdeath, food with poison. Little confidence can therefore be felt inthe injunction: "Love thy neighbor as thyself. " And it was in truth anew commandment that Jesus gave, when He said: "Love even as I haveloved you. " Moses, indeed, had been obliged to supplement the law of love by adecalogue of practical injunctions: "Honor thy father and mother, Thoushalt do no murder, Thou shalt not steal, Thou shalt not bear falsewitness, Thou shalt not covet. " Christ, on the other hand taught thatit will be enough if we do not demand measure for measure in love, andthat there will no longer be any need of the support of rules. We mustlet the measure overflow; and behold! this in itself opens to man thedoor of salvation. "If ye love them which love you, what thank haveye? for sinners also love those that love them. And if ye do good tothem which do good to you, what thank have ye? for sinners also doeven the same. And if ye lend to them of whom ye hope to receive, whatthank have ye? for sinners also lend to sinners to receive as muchagain. But love ye your enemies, and do good, and lend, hoping fornothing again, and ye shall be the children of the Highest" (St. Lukevi, 32-35). Set yourselves free from all bonds and all measurements and lay holdof the one thing needful: to be alive, to feel; this was therevelation made by Christ when, like Moses, He went up into themountain, but without hiding Himself from the people, calling thecrowd indeed to follow Him, and openly expounding all the secrets oftruth: Blessed are those who feel, even if they suffer, for to sufferis to feel, to live. Blessed are those who weep, blessed are those whohunger for righteousness, blessed are the persecuted, blessed arethose whose hearts are pure and free from darkness. For he who feelsshall be satisfied; but he who cannot feel is lost; woe to those wholie down in comfort, woe to those who are full, woe to those wholaugh--they have lost their "sensibility. " And then all is vanity. What is the use of knowing all the moral laws, and even practisingthem, if the heart be dead? It is as if we should whiten the tomb of acorpse. The moral, self-satisfied man, without a heart, is a tomb. * * * * * =The education of the moral sense=. --Thus the conception of moraleducation, like that of intellectual education, must include a basisof feeling, and be built up thereupon, if we are not to lead the childtowards illusion, falsity and darkness. The education of the senses, and liberty to raise the intelligence according to its own laws on theone hand; the education of feeling, and spiritual liberty to raiseoneself, on the other--these are two analogous conceptions and twoparallel roads. Consider our position in relation to children. We are their "stimuli, "by which their feeling, which is developing so delicately, should beexercised. For the intellect, we have the various objects, colors, forms, etc. ;but for the spirit, the objects are ourselves. The pure souls ofchildren must derive nourishment from us; they should fix themselveson us with their hearts, as their attention is fixed upon somefavorite stimulus; and by loving us they should exalt themselves intheir intimate spiritual creation. When interest leads the child to take the box of colors, and keeps himabsorbed in them, the objects lend themselves passively to hismanipulation, but the colors reflect the luminous rays of the sun, which then strike the virgin retinae of eyes not as yet completelymatured and adapted. So, too, when the child's heart turns to us, andfixes itself, asking nourishment from our souls, we ought to bealways ready, like passive objects, inasmuch as we should never, through our egotism, fail to respond to the child's needs; we shouldrespond with all our intimate energies, to reflect upon him theluminous rays required by his pure soul, as yet unadapted to life. We ought not to call him by name, and offer him our affection, inviting him to accept our help; but, like the material objects whichattract him by their smoothness, their luster, and their varied andinteresting forms, and by ocular demonstration of the means of loftyintellectual exercise, as in the colored alphabets and the rods whichcontain the first secrets of numeration--we, too, should wait; notcoldly, but rather making the child feel that we contain a richmaterial which is at his disposal, ready to be taken as soon as hestretches out his hand to grasp it. Our "response" to the child shouldbe as full, as prompt and as complete as that of the objects which hemay manipulate, but which at every touch give an upward impetus to theintellectual life of the child. How many persons must have noted that on some occasion when they havecaressed children, the little ones have retreated, as if repelled andoffended; and many must also have remarked that when the affectionateimpulse of a child has been checked, he shrinks into himself, humiliated, like the mimosa when touched. Now the respect we owe tothe spiritual liberty of the child should manifest itself as follows:we must never force our caresses on him, greatly as we may beattracted by his fascinating graces; nor must we ever repel hisoutbursts of affection, even when we are not disposed to receive them, but must respond with sincere and delicate devotion. We are the"objects" of his love, the objects by means of which he is organizinghis life. The most perfect teachers and mothers will be those who willtake the didactic material for their model, and imitate this byfilling themselves in every sense with moral riches and being full ofresponse in every detail; passive in abnegation, yet active aswellsprings of affection. And if all the sensorial objects combine allpossible vibrations accessible to man--the vibrations of light andcolor, as also those of sound and heat, so too should they combine inthemselves all the vibrations of internal sensibility, waiting for thethirsty soul to choose among them. It may be asked: And how shall we make the child love us; how shall wemake the child "feel"? If a child could not see colors he would be blind; and no one couldgive him sight. And so if the child could not feel, no one could givehim sensibility; but since Nature has united mother and child not onlyby the flesh, but even more closely by love, it is indubitable that atbirth the child brings with him not only flesh but love. Now he wholoves, even though it be only a single object, has in himself a sensewhich is capable of receiving impressions _ad infinitum_; he who seesan object possesses sight, therefore he who sees an object will see. He who loves a mother or a son, "loves"; that internal sense vibrates, and certainly not only to the object present to it at the moment. Even that poor spider, artificially deposited in the bag of anothermother, adopted and defended the alien eggs, because the spider iscapable of maternal love. Therefore the child whom his mother has loved and who was helped bythat love, has that "internal sense" by means of which he is capableof love. The "human objects" which present themselves to that sensehave reflections from it. We should "wait to be seen" by him; the day will come when, among allthe intellectual objects, the child will perceive our spirit, and willcome to us to take his ease within us. It will be to him a new birth, akin to that other awakening, when some one of the objects firstattracted him and held him. It is impossible that that day, thatmoment, should not arrive. We have performed a delicate work of lovetowards the child, presenting to him the means which satisfy hisintellectual needs, without making ourselves felt, keeping ourselvesin the background, but always present and ready to help. We have givengreat satisfaction to the child by succoring him; when he needed toclarify the order of his mind still further by language, we offeredhim the names of things, but only these, retiring at once withoutasking anything from him, without putting forward anything fromourselves. We have revealed to him the sounds of the alphabet, thesecret of numbers, we have put him into relation with things butrestricting ourselves to what was useful to him, almost concealing ourbody, our breathing, our person. When he felt a desire to choose, he never found an obstacle in us;when he occupied himself for a long time with an exercise, we werecareful to protect the tranquillity of his work, as a mother protectsthe refreshing sleep of her babe. When he made his first plunge into abstraction, he felt nothing in usbut the echo of his joy. The child found us always indefatigable when he called upon us, almostas if our mission to him were to offer him what he requires, just asit is the mission of the flower to give perfume without limit orintermission. He found with us a new life, no less sweet than the milk he drew fromhis mother's breast, with which his first love was born. Therefore hewill one day become sensitive to this being who lives to make himlive, from whose self-sacrifice his freedom to live and expand isderived. And undoubtedly the day will come when his spirit will becomesensitive to our spirit; and then he will begin to taste that supremedelight which lies in the intimate contact of soul with soul, and ourvoice will no longer be heard by his ear alone. The power to obey us, to communicate his conquests to us, to share his joys with us, will bethe new element in his life. We shall see the child who suddenlybecomes aware of his companions, and is almost as deeply interested aswe are in their progress and their work. It will be delightful towitness such a scene as that of four or five children sitting withspoons arrested over the smoking bowl, and no longer sensible to thestimulus of hunger because they are absorbed in contemplation of theefforts of a very little companion who is trying to tuck his napkinunder his chin, and finally succeeds in doing so; and then we shallsee these spectators assume an expression of relief and pride, almostlike that of a father who is present at the triumph of his son. Children will recompense us in the most amazing manner by theirprogress, their spiritual effusions, and their sweet obedience. Thefruit they will cause us to gather will be abundant beyond anything wecan imagine. Thus it comes to pass when the secrets of life areinterpreted. "Give and it shall be given unto you: good measure, pressed down and shaken together, and running over shall men give intoyour bosom. " * * * * * =The essence of moral education=. --To keep alive and to perfectpsychical sensibility is the essence of moral education. Around it, as in the intellectual education which proceeds from the exercise ofthe senses, _order_ establishes itself: the distinction between rightand wrong is perceived. No one can _teach_ this distinction in all itsdetails to one who cannot see it. But to see the difference and toknow it are not the same thing. But in order that "the child may be helped" it is essential that theenvironment should be rightly organized, and that good and evil shouldbe duly differentiated. An environment where the two things areconfused, where good is confounded with apathy and evil with activity, good with prosperity and evil with misfortune, is not one adapted toassist the establishment of order in the moral consciousness, muchless is one where acts of flagrant injustice and persecutions occur. Under such conditions the childish consciousness will become likewater which has been made turbid, and more poisonous than is alcoholto the life of the foetus. Order may perhaps be banished for ever, together with the clarity of the consciousness; and we cannot tellwhat may be the consequences to the "moral man. " "Whoever shall offendone of these little ones, it were better for him ... That he weredrowned in the depth of the sea. " "If thy hand or thy foot offendthee, cut it off and cast it from thee. " However, the properly organized environment is not everything. Even inintellectual education it was not the spontaneous exercise alone whichrefreshed the intelligence; but further, the lessons of the teacherwhich confirmed and illuminated the internal order in process ofdevelopment. On these occasions she said: "This is red, this isgreen. " Now she will say: "This is right, this is wrong. " And it willnot be unusual to find children like the one described above, who makegood and evil the center of consciousness, and, placing it abovematerial bread and intellectual nourishment, will propound thequestion more vital to them than any other: "What is good? and what isevil?" But we must not forget that moral lessons should be brief; andthat Moses, the father of the sages, in order to inculcate morality, not in a child, but in a race, gave ten simple commandments, which toChrist seemed superfluous. It is true, however, that at the head ofthese was the "law" of love; and that Christ substituted for theDecalogue an amplification of that law, which comprises within itselfall legislations and moral codes. * * * * * It is possible that good and evil may be distinguished by means of an"internal sense, " apart from cognitions of morality; and in such acase, of course, the good and evil in question would be absolute; thatis to say, they would be bound up with life itself and not withacquired social habits. We always speak of a "voice of conscience"which teaches us from within to distinguish the two things: goodconfers serenity, which is order; enthusiasm, which is strength; evilis signalized as an anguish which is at times unbearable: remorse, which is not only darkness and disorder, but fever, a malady of thesoul. It is certain that the laws of society, public opinion, materialwell-being, and threats of peril would all be powerless to producethese various sensations. Often serenity is to be found among theunfortunate, whereas the remorse of Lady Macbeth, who saw the spot ofblood upon her hand, gnawed at the heart of one who had acquired akingdom. It is not surprising that there should be an internal sensation whichwarns us of perils, and causes us to recognize the circumstancesfavorable to life. If science in these days demonstrates that themeans for preserving even material life correspond to the moral"virtues, " we may conclude that we shall be able to divine what isnecessary to life by means of the internal sensibility. Have not thebiological sciences demonstrated an analogous fact? The biometerapplied to man has made it possible to reconstruct the absolutelyaverage man, that is to say, the man whose body gives averagemeasurements in every part; and these average measurements have beenfound, by means of the statistical and morphological studies ofmedicine, to correspond to "normality. " Thus the average man would bea man so perfectly constructed that he has no morphologicalpredisposition to disease of the organs. When the figure of a man wasreconstructed in accordance with average biometrical proportions, itwas found to correspond in a remarkable manner to the proportions ofGreek statues. This fact helped to give a new interpretation to"æsthetic sentiment. " It was evidently by means of æsthetic feelingthat the eye of the Greek artist was able to extract the averagemeasurement of every organ, and to construct a marvelous and exactwhole therewith. The "enjoyment" of the artist was his enjoyment ofthe "beautiful"; but he felt even more profoundly that which containedthe triumph of life, and distinguished it from the errors of nature, which predispose to illness. The triumph of creation can give anintimate pleasure to him who can "feel it"; errors, even slight, willthen be perceived as discords. Aesthetic education is, in short, akinto the mathematical approximation towards the absolute average; themore it is possible to approach to the true measure in its extremelimits, and the closer we can get to this, the more possible does itbecome to have an absolute means of comparison for the considerationof deviations. The great artist is thus able to recognize thebeautiful in a detail even in the midst of other discordant details;and the more capable he is of possessing an absolute sense of thebeautiful, the more readily will he perceive any disproportion ofform. Something of the same sort may happen in the conscience in relation tothe distinction between good and evil; the more so as the good standsfor real utility in life far more directly than the beautiful, and theevil may be roughly said to represent danger. Have not animals, perhaps, an acute instinct of self-preservation, which dictatesinfinite details of conduct to them, both for the maintenance of lifeand for its protection? Dogs, horses, and cats, and generallyspeaking, all domestic animals, do not await the imminent earthquakequietly and unconsciously, as does man, but become agitated. When theice is about to crack, the Esquimaux dogs which draw the sleighsdetach themselves one from the other, as if to avoid falling in; whileman can only observe their amazing instinct with stupefaction. Man hasnot by nature these intense instincts; it is by means of intelligenceand the sensibility of his conscience to good and evil that heconstructs his defenses and recognizes his perils. And if thisintelligence of his, which is actually capable of transforming theworld, raises him to such a supreme height above animals, to what alofty eminence might he raise himself by developing his moralconsciousness! But on the contrary, man to-day is reduced to the point of askinghimself seriously whether animals are not better than he. When manwishes to exalt himself, he says: "I am faithful as a dog, pure as adove, strong as a lion. " Indeed, animals have always that instinct which is admirable, for itconfers on them a mysterious power; but if man lacks sensibility ofconscience he is inferior to the animals; nothing can then save himfrom excesses; he may rush upon his own ruin, upon havoc anddestruction in a manner that might fill animals with stupefaction andterror; and if it were in their power they might set themselves toteach man, that he might become equal to themselves. Men withoutconscience are like animals without the instinct of self-preservation;madmen rushing on destruction. What shall it profit man to discover by means of science the law ofphysical self-preservation in its most minute details, if he has nocare for that which corresponds in man to the "instinct" of his ownsalvation? If an individual has a perfect knowledge of hygienicfeeding, of the manner in which to weigh himself in order to followthe course of his own health, of bathing and of massage, but shouldlose the instinct of humanity and kill a fellow-creature, or take hisown life, what would be the use of all his care? And if he feelsnothing more in his heart? if the void draws him to it, plunging himinto melancholy, what does his well-nourished and well washed bodyavail him? Good is life; evil is death; the real distinction is as clear as thewords. Our moral conscience is, like our intelligence, capable of perfection, of elevation; this is one of the most fundamental of its differencesfrom the instincts of animals. The sensibility of the conscience may be perfected, like the æstheticsense, till it can recognize and at last enjoy "good, " up to the verylimits of the absolute, and also until it becomes sensitive to thevery slightest deviations towards evil. He who feels thus is "saved";he who feels less must be more vigilant, and do his utmost to preserveand develop that mysterious and precious sensibility which guides usin distinguishing good from evil. It is one of the most important actsof life to examine our own consciences methodically, having as oursource of illumination not only a knowledge of moral codes, but oflove. It is only through love that this sensibility can be perfected. He whose sense has not been educated cannot judge himself. A doctor, for example, may be perfectly informed as to the symptoms of adisease, and may know exactly how cardiac sounds and the resistance ofthe pulse are affected in diseases of the heart; but if his ear cannotperceive the sounds, if his hand cannot appreciate the tactilesensations which give the pulse, of what use is his science to him?His power of understanding diseases is derived from his senses; and ifthis power is lacking, his knowledge in relation to the sick man isvanity. The same holds good of the diagnosis of our own conscience; ifwe are blind and deaf, innumerable symptoms will pass unobserved, andwe shall not know on what to found our judgment. The tedium of futileundertakings will oppress us from the first moment. On the other hand, it is "feeling" which spurs us on towardsperfection. There have been persons with an extraordinary power of recognizinggood and evil, just as the Greek artists showed extraordinary powersof recognizing the normal forms of the body under the guidance of theæsthetic sense. Saint Teresa tells us that when some worldly personwho was not good approached her, she suffered as if she were inhalinga bad smell. She explained that of course she did not smell anythingat all, in the material sense; but that she actually suffered, notmerely in imagination; her suffering was a real spiritual distresswhich she could not tolerate. More interesting still is the following story which refers to theearly Fathers of the Church, who lived in the desert. "We were seatedat the feet of our Bishop, " says one of the monks, "listening to andadmiring his holy and salutary teaching. Suddenly there appeared onthe scene the leading 'mime, ' the most beautiful of the public dancersof Antioch, covered with jewels; her bare legs were almost concealedby pearls and gold; her head and shoulders were uncovered. A throng ofpersons accompanied her; the men of the period never wearied ofdevouring her with their eyes. An exquisite perfume which exhaled fromher person scented the air we breathed. When she had passed, ourFather, who had looked steadfastly at her, said to us: 'Were you notfascinated by so much beauty?' We were all silent. 'I, ' continued theBishop, 'experienced great pleasure in looking at her, for God hasappointed that some day she shall judge us. I see her, ' he added, 'asa soiled and blackened dove; but this dove shall be washed and shallfly heavenwards, white as snow. ' As a fact, this woman returned andasked to be baptized. 'My name is Pelagia, ' she said, 'or such is thename my parents gave me, but the people of Antioch call me The Pearl, because of the quantities of jewels with which my sins have adornedme. ' Two days later she gave all her goods to the poor, put on a hairshirt, and took up her abode in a cell on Monte Oliveto, which shenever left until her death. " (Montalembert, _Les Moines d'Occident_, vol. 1, p. 86. ) * * * * * =Our insensibility=. --How remote are we from that delicate sensibilitywhich responds to evil by suffering and to the good perceived inothers as it were miraculously, by a feeling of pleasure! In oursociety it is possible for us to live for a long time with a criminal, to esteem him, press his hand, etc. , until he is at last exposed bythe scandalous discovery of his misdeeds. Then we say: "Who would havethought it? He always seemed an excellent person. " And yet it is impossible that the criminal showed no signs, noperversities of feeling, no heartlessness which should have revealedhim to us from the outset. No one will say that we ought all to becomewonderful aesthetes like the Greek sculptors, or as sensitive as thesaints; but if we admit that it is a barbarous thing to pass by thebeauties of art without perceiving them; that it is the mark ofdefective civilization to confound horrible coarseness and monstrositywith ideal beauty, to be unable to distinguish the strident noise ofthe tram-car wheels, or the deafening crash of ill-tuned instrumentsfrom the harmonies of Bellini or Wagner; that each of us would blushfor such insensibility, and would conceal it--how is it we do notperceive that such obtuseness is habitual to us in moral matters? Wesee that we are capable of confusing virtuous persons and criminals, without any foreboding. How is it that so often in the case ofjudicial errors, the voice of the innocent did not resound in ourears, although his trial was a public one, and we allowed him tolanguish in prison for years? How is it that goodness should be soobscure a thing that we confound it with prosperity? How is it thatthose rich men of whom the gospel says "Woe unto you, rich men, for yehave your reward, " can think of "improving the morals" of the poor, without any examination of their own moral lives or the lives of thosebelonging to them? almost as if they believed that the rich areessentially good and the poor essentially bad. If such darkness as this reigned in the intellectual field, we shouldbe unable to conceive the form of madness which would present itselfto our eyes. There are confusions in the moral field which it isimpossible to imagine in any other domain of life. If some day theyouth of the nations, more clear-sighted than those of to-day, hearthat the Christmas feast was kept on the battlefields of the Europeanwar, they will understand the origins of the war itself. In such asituation, David (to whom indeed it would have been inconceivable)would have accepted the taunt of his enemies as well deserved, whenthey asked him: "Where is now thy God?" "We have lost God" would havebeen a fitting lamentation. But to celebrate His festivalindifferently under such conditions is to be unconscious of havinglost Him. How long ago did the soul die, and when did the building upon death begin? What a terrible episode of madness is this monstrousslaughter, upon which the tree of peace was planted in honor of theSavior! Far indeed are we from the delicate sensibility to evil of SantaTeresa, or the keenness of spiritual vision which enabled the man ofGod to see the white dove beneath the soiled feathers of the sinfulwoman. The difference is not as that between the taste of a peasantand that of an artist, but as that between a corpse and a living man. It is evident that we have suffered death, albeit we are unconsciousof having died. Here, then, and not in hygiene, must we find the secret of our life. We have something more corruptible than our bodies, a life morefragile than our physical life; and the peril of darkness hangs overus. This is the secret of man. If man loses the light that leads him on towards a better world, hefalls into an abyss far below all created animals. He who loves, therefore, will bestow all his care on thesewellsprings of life; how frail are the lungs of a new-born infant, howeasily can an unnatural mother deprive him of air and so suffocatehim! Yet what is this easily accomplished act, which neverthelessdestroys a life, in comparison with the infinitely easier and moredeadly act by which we may procure the death of the soul? The death of the soul, like that of the body, may be readilydistinguished from a state of insensibility; in vain do we apply ared-hot iron to a corpse; there is no response. He who is alive, however, is not only capable of reacting to astimulus very much less intense than a red-hot iron; he who lives andfeels may perfect himself--and this is life. It is enough that souls should "feel. " How, then, could they livequietly amidst evil? If under the windows of our house people werepiling up refuse until we felt that the air was being vitiated, couldwe bear this without protesting, and insisting on the removal of thatwhich was causing us to suffer? If, moreover, we had a child, weshould clamor still more loudly, and should even set to work to clearaway the nuisance with our own hands, in our solicitude for hishealth. But if the bodies of mother and child lay dead, they would nolonger be conscious of the pestilential air. It is characteristic of "life" to purge the environment and the soulof substances injurious to health. Christ was called "the Lamb thattaketh away the sins of the world, " not the Master who preaches, butHe who purifies. And this is the morality that springs fromsensibility: the _action_ of purifying the world, of removing theobstacles that beset life, of liberating the spirit from the darknessof death. The merits of which every man feels he owes an account to hisconscience are not such things as having enjoyed music or made adiscovery; he must be able to say what he has done to save andmaintain life. These purifying merits, like progress, have no limits. "Leave all ties and follow _Me_, " said Christ to those who asked Himwhat they should do. For man can reinforce his own strength by other powers which will urgehim on upwards towards the infinite; before him who sleeps is theinvisible ladder of Jacob, trodden by angels who call him heavenwards, that is, towards the supernatural life. Yes, to be _more_ than man. This is a _dream_ to him who lacks faith; but it is the realizablegoal, the aim of life, to him who has faith. To Friedrich Nietzsche, the superman was an idea without practicalconsequence, strange and erroneous even when tested by the verytheories of evolution which inspired him. His conception offered nohelp in overcoming the ills of humanity; rather was it as a chainbinding man to earth, there to seek means to create of himself the mansuperior to himself; and thus leading him astray into egotism, crueltyand folly. But innumerable saints have felt and acted in accordance with theirprofession of faith: "I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me. " If, as our poet says, man is "the chrysalis destined to become theangelic butterfly, " there is no doubt as to the road he must take:spiritually, he must either _ascend_ or _die_. Hence it is not the whole of life to obey the laws of hygiene, physical and psychical; but it is only life which can draw from itsenvironment the means of its own purification and salvation; thatlife, however, which is supernatural, asks of love and divine lightthe strength necessary for its transformation. Of a truth, it is not _ecstasy_ which characterizes the saints; it isthe real and victorious struggle of the higher against the lowernature. * * * * * =Morality and religion=. --It is well known that in strong religiousimpressions, such as the crises of what is called conversion, thephenomenon is characterized by "an inner light, " an "order" whichsuddenly establishes itself, and by means of which that which wasbefore unseen becomes manifest: the distinction between good and evil, and hence the revelation of oneself. Indeed, the converted, at themoment when the revelation takes place, seem little concerned withdivinity, or dogmas, or rites; they are persons given over to aviolent commotion, who seem forgetful of all their physical andintellectual life, and who are absorbed in contemplation of themselvesin relation to a central point of their consciousness, which seems tobe illuminated by some prodigious radiance. The cry of the convert inthe majority of cases is: "I am a sinner!" It seems as if darkness hadfallen away from him, together with all the evil which was corroding, weakening, and suffocating him, and which at length he saw, when itwas separated from him, terrible, obscure, and full of hideousdangers. It is this which agitates him, and makes him weep; it is thiswhich urges him to seek some one who can understand, comfort, and helphim. The converted want help, as do the newly born; they weep andstruggle like men who are born to a new life, and who are restrainedby no human respect, by no restriction. It is their own life theyfeel; and the value of their own life seems to them greater than theriches and convenience of the whole world. They feel an ecstasy ofrelief at having escaped from a great peril; their chief anxiety isthat they may be liberated from the evil that oppresses them. Beforethey can take another step forward they are obliged to reconsider theterrible time when evil was rooted within them, and they felt nothingof it. "And as a man with difficult short breath Forespent with toiling, 'scaped from sea to shore, Turns to the perilous wide waste, and stands At gaze; e'en so my spirit that yet fail'd Struggling with terror, turn'd to view the straits That none hath past and lived. " (Carey's translation of Dante's _Inferno_, Canto I. ) This evil had held captive all the treasures of the spirit, which, setfree at last, seem to refresh and reanimate the whole world beforetheir eyes: "And what I saw seemed even as a smile. Irradiating all the universe.... " (Dante's _Paradiso_, Canto XXVII. ) One of the most singular cases of conversion I ever heard describedwas the following: A monk, famous for his oratorical gifts, waspreaching in a crowded church to a congregation which was listening tohim with devout admiration. Suddenly he was interrupted by a loud sob, and a man in the crowd cried aloud, stretching out his hands towardsthe pulpit: "I am a great sinner!" The monk, as is usual in suchcases, came to the help of the convert, and received all theoutpourings of that soul, as it stripped itself of the evil which hadbeen corroding it. Then, curious to know what argument had touched theheart of this man, he asked him what part of the sermon had speciallyborne upon the prodigy. "Ah!" answered the convert, "I never heard asingle word of what you were saying; I entered the church withoutknowing why; at that moment you pointed your finger at meemphatically. Yes, it is true, I cried, I am a sinner, and I felt asif a heavy cloak of lead which had been oppressing me had fallen frommy shoulders; then an uncontrollable flood of tears rose from myheart. " Thus no intellectual element played any part in thisconversion; it was not a "conviction, " nor even new "knowledge, " whichhad acted; what had happened was purely a spontaneous phenomenon ofthe conscience, which, perhaps after an unconscious preparation, divided the light from the darkness and initiated the creation of thenew man. The convert feels more clearly than any other that evil is an"obstacle" to a form of enjoyment higher than the loftiest enjoymentsman can taste. He has not only been purified, but his purification hastransformed him. He is like a diamond embedded in dross and mire whichis suddenly separated from the overlying substances, and brought tothe surface, clear and brilliant; it is not only a purified andmagnificent stone; what really transforms it is the sun, which can nowbe reflected in it and make it sparkle. This is the unsuspectedsplendor which is added to it naturally, and has nothing to do eitherwith the dross that has been removed, or with the intrinsic qualitiesof the gem. The dross not only defiled it, but prevented it fromencountering the rays which should give it its characteristic beauty. All devout persons know that evil is a "chain" for us, holding us downbeneath the earth as in a tomb, and that sentiments hostile to loveare so many obstacles which impede our expansion and our free contactwith the divine essence which is within us. The slightest alloy, themost minute infiltration, suffices to impair our brilliance and tocause our ejection from the casket of the elect: a single glance whichjudges our brother instead of absolving him, a feeling which hardensour heart against him, or, finally, the envy which generates devouringhatred and fury. "The works of the flesh are manifest, which are these: ... Hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, envyings, witchcraft, murders. " To approach the altar with a heart suffering, beit ever so slightly, from some seductive stimulus against charity isvain; it is as if a wounded hare should rush to her form, bearing thearrow that has pierced her through and through; she goes, not to saveherself, but to die in her form. "Likewise thou, if thou bring thygift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath aughtagainst thee ... Go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother, andthen come and offer thy gift. " He who forgives an offense does not perform a logical act of justice, nor does he benefit the person he forgives; hence it is waste of timeto consider whether the offense deserves pardon or not, and whetherthe person who committed it needs absolution from us or not. We mustpardon, not from a sense of justice nor for the benefit of theoffender, but for our own sakes; he who forgives has divested himselfof envy and resentment, of all that oppressed and fettered the spirit, making it powerless to rise. This is why we must forgive: that so wemay burst the bonds which impede our free movement, our ascent. Whenwe cut the cable of a balloon, we do not consider whether this is justtowards the earth, and whether the cable deserves it; we do it becauseit is necessary, to enable the balloon to rise. He who ascends, moreover, enjoys the marvels of a spectacle which cannot be enjoyedon earth. Who would strike a balance between this gain and thesacrifice of the cable? Forgive, and you will feel universal absolution rising to you from thewhole world, in token of your ascent _Haec est vera fraternitas, quaevicit mundi crimina_. * * * * * =The religious sentiment in children=. --But few researches have beenmade into the crises of conscience and the spontaneous religioussentiment of children. It is true that of late years, during theremarkable religious movement which took place in England, mostsurprising instances of religiosity in children occurred; it was afterthe little Nelly, aged five, asked for the Eucharist on her death-bedthat Pius X allowed it to be administered to children, irrespective oftheir age. But the subject forms a very inconsiderable part of thepositive studies of to-day. The solitary study of this kind which has been brought forward inpublic congresses on psychology was that which was considered duringthe Premier Congrès International de Pédologie, Bruxelles, août, 1911:_Quelques observations sur le développement de l'émotion morale etreligieuse chez un enfant_, Ghidionescu, Doct. En Philosophie(Bucharest). The child who was the subject of observation had receivedno religious education whatever. One day he was seen to burst into asudden fit of weeping, for no apparent reason. When his mother askedwhy he was crying, the child replied: "Because I remember how I saw apuppy ill-treated two months ago, and at this moment I _feel_ it. " Ayear and a half later a similar crisis took place. He was looking atthe moon one evening from the window, when he suddenly burst intotears. "Do not scold me, " said the child in great agitation; "while Iwas looking at the moon I felt how often I had grieved you, and Iunderstood that I had offended God. " This interesting study reveals successive phases of a spontaneousphenomenon of moral consciousness: the first was the revelation of thelively feeling which provoked a fit of weeping two months after theevent which distressed the child: he _felt_ the sufferings of thecruelly treated puppy. And a long time after this activity of theconscience had been initiated comes the establishment of order: thechild distinguishes between good and evil actions, and recognizes thefact that he has incurred the displeasure of his parents; thisdispleasure was probably not very serious, indeed it was so slightthat the child had been unconscious of it at the time; but at themoment when he is purging himself of these trivial impurities he feelsGod: "I understood that I had offended God, " he said, and he knew wellthat he had not offended his parents. Now, no one had ever talked tohim about God, or trained him to examine his conscience. During my experience I have had no opportunity of witnessing a similarcycle of spiritual development. My experiences in religious educationhave necessarily been limited hitherto; indeed, in the Children'sHouse kept by the Franciscan Sisters of the Via Giusti the religiouseducation was given by the ordinary methods, and it was not possibleto make original studies or observations. On the other hand, thedominant political party in the municipalities has abolished religionfrom the public schools with a sectarian rigor which causes the word"God" to be feared as bigots fear the word "devil. " My experience has, therefore, been limited to some of the children Ihave received privately in my own house, children belonging tonon-religious families, who had consequently undergone no religiousinfluence. [9] One of my little pupils was just over seven years old, when a friendof his family, noticing his intelligence, and knowing that he had beeneducated in "freedom, " thought he would test him by describing to himbriefly animal evolution according to the principles of Lamarck andDarwin. The child followed his explanation very attentively and thenasked: "Well, then, man comes from the monkey, and the monkey fromsome other animal, and so on; but from whom did the first creaturecome?" "The first, " answered his friend, "was formed by chance. " Thechild laughed aloud, and, calling his mother, said excitedly: "Justlisten; what nonsense! Life was formed by chance! That is impossible. ""Then how was life formed?" "It is God, " replied the child, withconviction. [Footnote 9: At present some very interesting experiments in religiouseducation are being carried out in the "Escola Montessori" atBarcelona, under the direction of the Provincial Deputies of thatcity. ] This same child was prepared, with his mother's consent, for HolyCommunion, together with his sister; a highly educated young priest ofmuch æsthetic knowledge undertook the task. I was curious to hear whatobjections the child had raised; but I was not admitted to hislessons. I was only present on one occasion, when the course ofinstruction was almost at an end. The priest spoke of the reservationof the wine and of the practical situations in which the celebrant mayfind himself during the holy office. I thought such a dissertationentirely unsuitable for children, and one which was likely to distracttheir attention from the end in view; but I saw with amazement thattheir faces were turned intently to the altar; they were evidentlyunfamiliar with such minute explanations, but they were penetrated bya sentiment which attracted them; the chalice with the divine bloodappealed to these souls ready to receive it, as it did to the innocentParsifal. When they made their first Communion, I was convinced thattheir souls received the mysteries with the sweetest faith and withabsolute simplicity, as if all that is of God were comprehensible tothem, and only that which denies Him an absurdity. Their spiritualconquest accompanied them in life. A little cousin of these children, who was prepared to receive theCommunion a long time after them, and who had had no religioustraining in her own home, said one day, when she was workingenthusiastically in class: "How beautiful the anatomy of a flower is!I like arithmetic and geometry so much! But religion is the mostbeautiful thing of all. " There was an older child in the school, whose parents, both father andmother, were positively hostile to religion. This child, although sheshowed great interest in the school exercises, was always restless. Later, when some wonderful children's parties were given in the villawhere she lived, which were arranged with great skill and wereveritable works of art, she became still more restless and cynical, almost as if she were suffering from some disillusionment. One day shecalled an orphan child from Messina, who was one of our children whohad come from the school in the Via Giusti, and took her away into aquiet corner, asking her to repeat the Lord's Prayer. The orphanrecited it, while the rich child gazed at her eagerly. Then, as if inobedience to an inspiration, she went to the piano to play; but herhands trembled; she threw herself on one side, with her elbow on thekeyboard and her head hanging, unable to conceal her agitation anylonger. Her soul was seeking to satisfy its yearning; nothing couldgive her peace but the one thing those who loved her wished towithhold from her. Her heart was still alive and eager: "Like as theheart desireth the water brooks, so longeth my soul after thee, OGod. " As yet the coarse scoria evolved from darkness, which makes it sodifficult for the adult to embrace the mysteries of the spirit like alittle child, had not formed around her. Later, such mysteries becomeincomprehensible; as to Nicodemus, who replied to Christ: "How can aman be born again? Can he enter a second time into his mother's womb?" But this rapid survey will suffice to make us understand that thelittle child has other needs, in addition to his intellectual wants, and that long before his intelligence is developed and satisfied, hispure and open spirit reflects the divine light. He is perhaps theParsifal for whom we are waiting, depressed and sick at heart, whilebecause of the impurity of our hands the dove can no longer descend inthe Holy Grail towards the chalice filled with the blood of Peace. [10] [Footnote 10: The moral question is barely indicated and is not evencomprehensively indicated. Such a work, indeed, represents anexperimental contribution to the education of the intelligence. Atpresent an experimental study of the moral and religious education ofchildren has only just been initiated at Barcelona (Spain). A book onthis subject should form a sequel to this volume. I cannot foresee whether I and my colleagues will be able to bringsuch a heavy task to a successful conclusion. ]