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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..de0bd5d --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #50082 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/50082) diff --git a/old/50082-0.txt b/old/50082-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c1894bd..0000000 --- a/old/50082-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7281 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Talks on Teaching Literature, by Arlo Bates - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Talks on Teaching Literature - -Author: Arlo Bates - -Release Date: September 30, 2015 [EBook #50082] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALKS ON TEACHING LITERATURE *** - - - - -Produced by Shaun Pinder, Lisa Reigel, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: Words in italics in the original are surrounded by -_underscores_. A row of asterisks represents a thought break. Ellipses -match the original. A complete list of corrections as well as other -notes follows the text. - - - - - TALKS ON TEACHING - LITERATURE - - BY - - ARLO BATES - - [Illustration: Riverside Press colophon] - - - BOSTON AND NEW YORK - HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY - The Riverside Press, Cambridge - 1906 - - - - - COPYRIGHT 1906 BY ARLO BATES - - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - - _Published October 1906_ - - - - -These Talks are founded upon lectures delivered before the Summer -School of the University of Illinois in June, 1905. The interest which -was shown in the subject and in the views expressed encouraged me to -state rather more elaborately and in book form what I felt in regard to -a matter which is certainly of great importance, and concerning which -so many teachers are in doubt. I wish here to express my obligation to -Assistant-Professor Henry G. Pearson, who has very kindly gone over the -manuscript, and to whom I am indebted for suggestions of great value. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - I. THE PROBLEM 1 - - II. THE CONDITIONS 11 - - III. SOME DIFFICULTIES 28 - - IV. OTHER OBSTACLES 39 - - V. FOUNDATIONS OF WORK 61 - - VI. PRELIMINARY WORK 74 - - VII. THE INSPIRATIONAL USE OF LITERATURE 88 - - VIII. AN ILLUSTRATION 96 - - IX. EDUCATIONAL 109 - - X. EXAMINATIONAL 121 - - XI. THE STUDY OF PROSE 136 - - XII. THE STUDY OF THE NOVEL 152 - - XIII. THE STUDY OF _MACBETH_ 165 - - XIV. CRITICISM 193 - - XV. LITERARY WORKMANSHIP 207 - - XVI. LITERARY BIOGRAPHY 222 - - XVII. VOLUNTARY READING 227 - - XVIII. IN GENERAL 237 - - INDEX 245 - - - - - TALKS ON TEACHING - LITERATURE - - - - -I - -THE PROBLEM - - -Few earnest teachers of literature have escaped those black moments -when it seems perfectly evident that the one thing sure in connection -with the whole business is that literature cannot be taught. If they -are of sensitive conscience they are likely to have wondered at times -whether it is honest to go on pretending to give instruction in a -branch in which instruction was so obviously impossible. The more -they consider, the more evident it is that if a pupil really learns -anything _in_ literature,—as distinguished from learning _about_ -literature,—he does it himself; and they cannot fail to see that as -an art literature necessarily partakes of the nature of all art, the -quality of being inexpressible and unexplainable in any language except -its own. - -The root of whatever difficulty exists in fulfilling the requirements -of modern courses of training which have to do with literature is just -this fact. Any art, as has been said often and often, exists simply and -solely because it embodies and conveys what can be adequately expressed -in no other form. A picture or a melody, a statue or a poem, gives -delight and inspiration by qualities which could belong to nothing -else. To teach painting or music or literature is at best to talk about -these qualities. Words cannot express what the work or art expresses, -or the work itself would be superfluous; and the teacher of literature -is therefore apparently confronted with the task of endeavoring to -impart what language itself cannot say. - -So stated the proposition seems self-contradictory and absurd. Indeed -it too often happens that in actual practice it is so. Teachers weary -their very souls in necessarily fruitless endeavors to achieve the -impossible, and fail in their work because they have not clearly -apprehended what they could effect and what they should endeavor to -effect. In any instruction it is of great importance to recognize -natural and inevitable limitations, and nowhere is this more true than -in any teaching which has to do with the fine arts. In other branches -failure to perceive the natural restrictions of the subject limits the -efficiency of the teacher; in the arts it not only utterly vitiates all -work, but it gives students a fundamentally wrong conception of the -very nature of that with which they are dealing. - -In most studies the teacher has to do chiefly with the understanding, -or, to put it more exactly, with the intellect of the pupil. In dealing -with literature he must reckon constantly with the emotions also. If -he cannot arouse the feelings and the imaginations of his students, -he does not succeed in his work. Not only is this difficult in itself, -but it calls for an emotional condition in the instructor which is -not easily combined with the didactic mood required by teaching; a -condition, moreover, which begets a sensitiveness to results much -more keen than any disappointment likely to be excited by failure to -carry a class triumphantly through a lesson in arithmetic or history. -This sensitiveness constantly brings discouragement, and this in turn -leads to renewed failure. In work which requires the happiest mood -on the part of the teacher and the freest play of the imagination, -the consciousness of any lack of success increases the difficulty a -hundredfold. The teacher who is able by sheer force of determination to -manage the stupidities of a dull algebra class, may fail signally in -the attempt to make the same force carry him through an unappreciated -exercise in "Macbeth." It is true that no teaching is effective unless -the interest as well as the attention of the pupils is enlisted; -but whereas in other branches this is a condition, in the case of -literature it is a prime essential. - -The teaching of literature, moreover, is less than useless if it is -not educational as distinguished from examinational. It is greatly to -be regretted that necessity compels the holding of examinations at -all in a subject of which the worth is to be measured strictly by the -extent to which it inspires the imagination and develops the character -of the student. Any system of examinations is likely to be at best a -makeshift made inevitable by existing conditions, and it is rendered -tolerable only where teachers—often at the expense, under present -school methods, of a stress of body and of soul to be appreciated -only by those who have taught—are able to mingle a certain amount of -education with the grinding drill of routine work. Examination papers -hardly touch and can hardly show the results of literary training which -are the only excuse for the presence of this branch in the school -curriculum. Every faithful worker who is trying to do what is best for -the children while fulfilling the requirements of the official powers -above him is face to face with the fact that the tabulated returns of -intermediates and finals do not in the least represent his best or most -laboriously achieved success. - -Under these conditions it is not strange that so many teachers are at a -loss to know what they are expected to do or what they should attempt -to do. If the teachers in the secondary schools of this country were -brought together into some Palace of Truth where absolute honesty was -forced upon them, it would be interesting and perhaps saddening to -find how few could confidently assert that they have clear and logical -ideas in regard to the teaching of literature. They would all be able -to say that they dealt with certain specified books because such work -is a prominent part of the school requirement; and many would, unless -restrained by the truth-compelling power of their environment, add -vague phrases about broadening the minds of the children. A pitiful -number would be forced to confess that they had no clear conception of -what they were to do beyond loading up the memories of the luckless -young folk with certain dead information about books to be unloaded at -the next examination, and there left forever. Too often "broadening the -mind" of the young is simple flattening it out by the dead weight of -lifeless and worthless fact. - -This uncertainty in regard to what they are to do and how they are -to do it is constantly evident in the complaints and inquiries of -teachers. "How would you teach 'Macbeth'?" one asked me. "Do you think -the sources of the plot should be thoroughly mastered?" Another wrote -me that she had always tried to make the moral lesson of "Silas Marner" -as clear and strong as possible, but that one of her boys had called -her attention to the fact that no question on such a matter had ever -appeared in the college entrance examination papers, and that she did -not know what to do. A third said frankly that she could never see -what there was in literature to teach, so she just took the questions -suggested by a text-book and confined her attention to them. If these -seem extreme cases, it is chiefly because they are put into words. -Certainly the number of instructors who are virtually in the position -of the third teacher is by no means small. - -Even the editors of "school classics" are sometimes found to be no more -enlightened than those they profess to aid, and not infrequently seem -more anxious to have the appearance of doing a scholarly piece of work -than one fitted for actual use. The devices they recommend for fixing -the attention and enlightening the darkness of children in literary -study are numerous; but not infrequently they are either ludicrous or -pathetic. A striking example is that conspicuously futile method, the -use of symbolic diagrams. The attempt to represent the poetry, the -pathos, the passion of "The Merchant of Venice" or "Romeo and Juliet" -by a diagram like a proposition in geometry seems to me not only the -height of absurdity, but not a little profane. I have examined these -cryptic combinations of lines, tangents, triangles, and circles, -with more bewilderment than comprehension, I confess; generally with -irritation; and always with the profound conviction that they could -hardly be surpassed as a means of producing confusion worse confounded -in the mind of any child whatever. Other schemes are only less wild, -and while excellent and helpful text-books are not wanting, not a -few show evidence that the writers were as little sure of what they -were trying to effect, or of how it were best effected, as the most -bewildered teacher who might unadvisedly come to them for enlightenment. - -Instruction in literature as it exists to-day in the common schools of -this country is almost always painstaking and conscientious; but it is -by no means always intelligent. The teachers who resort to diagrams are -sincerely in earnest, and no less faithful are those who at the expense -of most exhausting labor are dragging classes through the morass of -questions suggested by the least desirable of school editions of -college requirements. They dose their pupils with notes as Mrs. Squeers -dosed the poor wretches at Dotheboys Hall with brimstone and treacle. -The result is much the same in both cases. - - "Oh! Nonsense," rejoined Mrs. Squeers. . . . "They have - brimstone and treacle, partly because if they hadn't something - or other in the way of medicine they'd be always . . . giving a - world of trouble, and partly because it spoils their appetites, - and comes cheaper than breakfast and dinner." - -Certainly any child, no matter how great his natural appetite for -literature, must find the desire greatly diminished after a dose of -text-book notes. - -The difficulties of teachers in handling this branch of instruction -have been increased by the system under which work must be carried -on. The tremendous problem of educating children in masses has yet -to be solved, and it is at least doubtful if it can be worked out -successfully without a very substantial diminution of the requirements -now insisted upon. Certainly it is hardly conceivable that with the -curriculum as crowded as it is at present any teacher could do much -in the common schools with the teaching of literature. The pedagogic -committees who have fixed the college entrance requirements, moreover, -seem to have acted largely along conventional lines. In the third -place the spirit of the time is out of sympathy with art, and the -variety and insistence of outside calls on the attention and interest -of the children make demands so great as to leave the mind dull to -finer impressions. To the boy eager over football, the circus, and -the automobile race he is to see when school is out, even an inspired -teacher may talk in vain about Dr. Primrose, Lady Macbeth, or any other -of the immortals. Ears accustomed to the strident measures of the -modern street-song are not easily beguiled by the music of Milton, and -yet the teacher of to-day is expected to persuade his flock that they -should prefer "L'Allegro" to the vulgar but rollicking "rag-time" comic -songs of dime-museum and alley. Under circumstances so adverse, it is -not to be wondered at that teachers are not only discouraged but often -bewildered. - -What happens in many cases is sufficiently well shown by this extract -from a freshman composition, in which the writer frankly gives an -account of his training in English literature in a high school not -twenty-five miles from Boston: - - Very special attention was paid to the instruction of the - classics as to what the examinations require. As closely as - possible the faculty determine the scope of the examinations, - and the class is drilled in that work especially. Examination - papers are procured for several years back, and are given - to the students as regular high school examinations, and - as samples of the kind of questions to be expected. The - instructors notice especial questions that are often repeated - in examination papers, warn the pupils of them, and even go so - far as to estimate when the question will be used again. I have - heard in the classroom, "This question was given three years - ago, and it is about due again. They ask it every three or four - years." - -Another boy wrote, in the same set of themes, that he had taken the -examination in the autumn, and added: - - On the June examinations I noticed that there was nothing about - Milton, so I studied Milton with heart and soul. - -Here we find stated plainly what everybody connected with teaching -knows to be common, and indeed what under the present system is almost -inevitable. I know of many schools of no inconsiderable standing where -in all branches old examination papers, if not used as the text-books, -are at least the actual guide to all work done in the last year of -fitting for college. This is perhaps only human, and it is easy to -understand; but it certainly is not education, and of that fact both -students and teachers are entirely well aware. All this I say with -no intention of blaming anybody for what is the result of difficult -conditions. It is not well, however, to ignore what is perfectly well -known, and what is one of the important difficulties of the situation. - -The problem, then, which confronts the teacher in the secondary school -is twofold. He has to decide in the first place what the teaching of -literature can and should legitimately accomplish, and in the second, -by what means this may most surely and effectively be done. In a word, -although work in this line has been going on multitudinously and -confusedly for years, we are yet far from sufficiently definite ideas -why and how literature should be taught to children. - - - - -II - -THE CONDITIONS - - -The inclusion of literature in the list of common school studies, -however the original intent may have been lost sight of, was -undoubtedly made in the interest of general culture. It is not certain -that those who put it in had definite conceptions of methods or -results, but unquestionably their idea was to aid the development of -the children's minds by helping them to appreciate and to assimilate -thoughts of nobility and of beauty, and by fostering a love for -literature which should lead them to go on acquiring these from the -masterpieces. How clear and well defined in the minds of educators -this idea was it is needless to inquire. It is enough that it was -undoubtedly sincere, and that it was founded on a genuine faith in the -broadening and elevating influence of art. - -The importance of literature as a means of mental development used to -be taken for granted. Our fathers and grandfathers had for the classics -a reverence which the rising generation looks back to as a phase of -antiquated superstition, hardly more reasonable than the worship of -sacred wells or a belief in goblins. So much stress is now laid -upon the tangible and the material as the only genuine values, that -everything less obvious is discredited. The tendency is to take only -direct results into consideration; and influences which serve rather to -elevate character than to aid in money-getting are at best looked upon -with toleration. - -That sense of mankind, however, which depends upon the perception of -the few, and which in the long run forms the opinion of society in -spite of everything, holds still to the importance of literature in any -intelligent scheme of education. The popular disbelief makes enormously -difficult the work of the teacher, but the force of the conviction -of the wise minority keeps this branch in the schools. The sincere -teacher, therefore, naturally tries to analyze effects, and to discern -possibilities, in order to discover upon what facts the belief in the -educational value of the study of literature properly rests. - -The most obvious reasons for the study of literature may be quickly -disposed of. It is well for a student to be reasonably familiar with -the history of literature, with the names and periods of great writers. -This adds to his chances of appearing to advantage in the world, -and especially in that portion of society where he can least afford -to be at a disadvantage. He is provided with facts about books and -authors quite as much to protect him from the ill effects of appearing -ignorant as for any direct influence this knowledge will have on his -mind. Whatever the tendency of the times to undervalue in daily -life acquaintance with the more refined side of human knowledge, the -fact remains that to betray ignorance in these lines may bring real -harm to a person's social standing. Every one recognizes that among -educated people a lad is better able to make his way if he does not -confound the age of Shakespeare with that of Browning, and if he is -able to distinguish between Edmund Spenser and Herbert Spencer. Such -information may not be specially vital, but it is worth possessing. - -Considerations of this sort, however, are evidently not of weight -enough to account for the place of the study in the schools, and still -less to excuse the amount of time and attention bestowed upon it. The -same line of reasoning would defend the introduction of dancing, because - - Those move easiest who have learned to dance. - -More important and more far-reaching reasons must be found to satisfy -the teacher, and to hearten him for the severe labor of working with -class after class in the effort, not always successful, of arousing -interest and enthusiasm over the writings which go by the name of -English Classics. Some of these I may specify briefly. To deal with -them exhaustively would take a book in itself, and would leave no room -for the consideration of methods. - -A careful and intelligent study of masterpieces of prose or verse, -the teacher soon perceives, must develop greatly the student's sense -of the value of words. This is not the highest function of this work, -but it is by no means one to be despised. Literary study affords -opportunities for training of this sort which are not to be found -elsewhere; and a sensitiveness to word-values is with a child the -beginning of wisdom. - -Children too often acquire and adults follow the habit of accepting -words instead of ideas. A genuine appreciation of the worth of language -is after all the chief outward sign of the distinction between the wise -man and the dullard. One is content to receive speech as sterling coin, -and the other perceives that words are but counters. If students could -but appreciate the difference between apprehending and comprehending -what they are taught, between learning words and assimilating ideas, -the intellectual millennium would be at hand. Children need to learn -that the sentence is after all only the envelope, only the vehicle for -the thought. Everybody agrees to this theoretically, but practically -the fact is generally ignored. The child is father to the man in -nothing else more surely than in the trait of accepting in perfect good -faith empty words as complete and satisfactory in themselves. The habit -of being content with phrases once bred into a child can be eradicated -by nothing short of severe intellectual surgery. - -To say that words are received as sufficient in themselves and not as -conveying ideas sounds like a paradox; but there are few of us who -may not at once make a personal application and find an illustration -in the common phrases and formulas of our life. Perhaps none of us -are free from the fault of sometimes substituting empty phrases for -vital rules of conduct. The most simple and the most tremendous -facts of human life are often known only as lifeless statements -rather than realized as vibrant truths. With children the language -of text-book or classroom is so likely to be repeated by rote and -remembered mechanically that constant vigilance on the part of the -teacher can hardly overcome the evil. Force the boy who on the college -entrance examination paper writes fluently that "Milton is the poet -of sublimity" to try to define, even to himself, what the statement -means, and the result is confusion. He meant nothing. He had the words, -but they had never conveyed to him a thought. Language should be the -servant of the mind, but never was servant that so constantly and so -successfully usurped the place of master. - -Children must be taught, and taught not simply by precept but by -experience, to realize that the value of the word lies solely in its -efficiency as a vehicle of thought. They must learn to appreciate as -well as to know mechanically that language is to be estimated by its -effect in communicating the idea, and that to be satisfied with words -for themselves is obvious folly. For enforcing this fact literature is -especially valuable. It is hardly possible in even the most superficial -work on a play of Shakespeare, for instance, for the reader to fail -to perceive how the idea burns through the word, how wide is the -difference between the mere apprehension of the language and the -comprehension of the poet's meaning. In the study of great poetry the -impossibility of resting satisfied with anything short of the ideas is -so strongly brought out that it cannot be ignored or forgotten; and in -this way pupils are impressed with the value of words. - -This sensitiveness to the value of words in general is closely coupled -with an appreciation of the force of words in particular, of what may -be called word-values. The power of appreciating that a word is merely -a messenger bringing an idea, is naturally connected with the ability -to distinguish with exactness the nature and the value of the thought -which the messenger presents. To feel the need of knowing clearly and -surely the thought expressed inevitably leads to precision and delicacy -in distinguishing the significance and force of language. When once a -child appreciates the difference between the accepting of what he reads -vaguely or mechanically and the getting from it its full meaning, he -is eager to have it all; he finds delight in the intellectual exercise -of searching out each hidden suggestion and in the sense of possession -which belongs to achieving the thought of the master. It is not to be -expected that our pupils shall be able to receive in its full richness -the deepest thought of the poets, but they none the less find delight -in possessing it to the extent of their abilities. The point is too -obvious to need expansion; but every instructor will recognize its -great importance. - -Obvious as is this importance of the sense of the value of words and -a sensitiveness to word-values, it is not infrequently overlooked. -Teachers see the need of a knowledge of the meaning of terms and -phrases in a particular selection without stopping to think of the -prime value of the principle involved, or indeed that a general -principle is involved at all. Still more often they fail to perceive -all that logically follows. In exact, vital realization of the full -force of language lies the secret of sharing the wisdom of the ages. If -students can be trained to penetrate through the word of the printed -page to the thought, they are brought into communication with the -master-minds of the race. It is not learning to read in the common, -primary acceptation of the term that opens for the young the thought -of the race; but learning to read in the higher and deeper sense of -receiving the word only as a symbol behind and beyond which the thought -lies concealed from the ordinary and superficial reader. - -Most of all is it the business of the young to learn about life. -Whatever does not tend, directly or indirectly, to make the child -better acquainted with the world he has come into, with how he must -and how he should bear himself under its complex conditions, is of -small value as far as education goes. Of rules for conduct he is given -plenty as to matters of morality and of religion. Moral laws and -religious precepts are good, and could they accomplish all that is -sometimes expected of them, life would quickly be a different matter, -and teachers would find themselves living in an earthly paradise. -Unhappily these excellent maxims effect in actual life far less than -is to be desired. Not infrequently the urchin who has been stuffed -with moral admonitions as a doll with sawdust shows in his conduct -no regard for them other than a fine zeal in scorning them. Children -are seldom much affected by explicit directions in regard to conduct. -They must be reached by indirection, and they are moulded less by what -they recognize as intentionally wise views of life than by those which -they receive unconsciously. The more just these unrecognized ideas -of themselves and of the world are, the greater is the chance that -they will develop a character well balanced and well adjusted to the -conditions of human life. - -Children live in a world largely made up of half-perceptions, of -misunderstandings, and of dreams; a world pathetically full of guesses. -They must depend largely upon appearances, and constantly confound -what seems with what really is. They learn but slowly, however, to -shape their beliefs or their emotions by conventionality. They do not -easily acquire the vice of accepting shams because some authority has -endorsed these. All of us are likely to have had queerly uncomfortable -moments when we have found ourselves confounded and reproved by -the unflinching honesty of the child; and we have been forced to -confess, at least to ourselves, that much of our admiration is mere -affectation, many of our professions unadulterated truckling to some -authority in which after all we have little real faith. Children are -naturally too unsophisticated for self-deception of this sort. They -confound substance and shadow, but they do it in good faith and with -no affectations. They are therefore at the place where they most need -sound and sure help to apprehend and to comprehend those things which -their elders call the realities of life. - -What human nature and human life are like is learned most quickly -and most surely from the best literature. The outward, the evident -conditions of society and of humanity may perhaps be best obtained by -children from the events of every-day existence; but in all that goes -deeper the wisdom of great writers is the surest guide. - -On the face of it such a proposition may not seem self-evident, -and to not a few teachers it is likely to appear a little absurd. -Children, it is evident, learn the realities of life by living. They -perceive physical truth by the persuasive force of actual experience: -by tumbling down and bumping their precious noses; by unmistakably -impressive contact with the fist of a pugnacious school-fellow; by -being hungry or uncomfortably stuffed with Thanksgiving turkey; by -heat and by cold, by sweets or by sours, by hardness or by softness. -Certainly through such means as these the child gains knowledge and -develops mentally; but the process is inevitably slow. Most of all -is the growth in the youthful mind of general deductions and the -perception of underlying principles extremely gradual. He does not -learn quickly enough that certain lines of conduct are likely to lead -to unfortunate ends. Even when this is grasped, he has not come to -appreciate what human laws underlie the whole matter; nor is he in the -least likely to realize them so fully as to shape by them his conduct -in the steadily more and more complicated affairs of life. - -The small boy learns the wisdom of moderation from the stomach-ache -which follows too much plum-pudding or too many green apples—if the -pain is often enough repeated. The matter, however, is apt to present -itself to his mind as a sort of tacit bargain between himself and Fate: -so many green apples, so much stomach-ache; so much self-indulgence and -so much pain, and the account is balanced. Life is not so simple as -this; and that Fate does not make bargains so direct is learned from -experience so gradually as often to be learned too late. To tell this -to a child is of very little effect; for even if he believes it with -his childish intelligence, he can hardly feel the intimate links which -bind all humanity together, and make him subject to the same conditions -that rule his elders and instructors. - -The phrase "realities of life," moreover, includes not only -sensible—that is, material—facts and conditions, but the more subtle -things of inner existence. A hundred persons are able to gather facts, -while very few are capable of drawing from them adequate conclusions -or of perceiving how one truth bears upon another. A very moderate -degree of intelligence is required for analysis as compared to that -necessary for synthesis. The power "to put two and two together," as -the common phrase has it, grows slowly in the mind of a child. Within -a limited range children appreciate that one fact is somehow joined to -another; and indeed the education which life gives consists chiefly in -expanding this perception. The connection between touching a hot coal -and being burned brings home the plain physical relations early. The -connection between disobedience and unpleasant consequences will be -borne in upon the youthful consciousness according to the sharpness -of discipline by which it is enforced; and so on to the end of the -chapter. To perceive a relation and to appreciate what that relation -is are, however, different matters. The understanding of the nature -of breaking rules and suffering in consequence involves a perception -of underlying principle, and some comprehension of the real nature of -these principles. - -The part which literature may play in giving children, and for that -matter their elders, a vivid perception of moral laws is shown by the -use which has been made of fables and moral tales. The parables of -Scripture illustrate the point. Of the habit of making literature -directly a vehicle for moral instruction by the drawing of morals I -shall have something to say later; but the extent to which this has -been done at least serves here to make clearer what we mean by saying -that in this study the child learns general principles and their -relation. The small child, for instance, who is told in tender years -that ingeniously virtuous fable which relates the heroic doings of -little George Washington and his immortal hatchet, gets some idea of a -connection between virtue and joy in the abstract. A notion faint, but -none the less genuine, remains in his mind that some real connection -exists between truth and desirability; and the same sort of thing holds -true in cases where the teaching is less directly didactic. - -The directly didactic is likely to be most in evidence in the training -of children, and so affords convenient illustration of the illuminating -effect of literature on young minds. Despite the fact that I disbelieve -in reading into any tale or poem a moral which is not expressly put -there by the author, and that I hold more strongly yet to the belief -that the most marked and most lasting effects of imaginative work are -indirect, I am not without a perception of the value at a certain stage -of human development of the direct moral of the fable and the improving -tale. A small lad of ten within the range of my observation, upon whom -had been lavished an abundance, and perhaps even a superabundance, of -moral precept, astonished and disconcerted his mother by remarking -with delightful naïveté that he had at school been reading "The Little -Merchant," in Miss Edgeworth's "Parents' Assistant," and that from it -he had learned how mean and foolish it is to lie. "But, my dear boy," -the mother cried in dismay, "I've been telling you that ever since -you were born!" "Oh, well," responded the lad, with the unconsciously -brutal frankness of his years, "but that never interested me." The -obvious moral teaching that had made no impression when offered as a -bare precept had been effective to him when presented as an appeal to -his feeling. - -Through imaginative literature abstract truths are made to have for -the child a reality which is given to them by the experiences of daily -life only by the slowest of degrees. Children rarely generalize, -except in matters of personal feeling and in the regions of general -misapprehension. A child easily receives the fact of the moment for a -truth of all time: if he is miserable, for instance, he is very apt to -feel that he must always be in that doleful condition; but this is in -no real sense a generalization. It is more than half self-deception. -Any child, however, who has been thrilled by a single line of -imaginative poetry has—even if unconsciously—come into direct touch -with a wide and humanly universal truth. - -Especially and essentially is this to be said of truth which has to do -with human feeling, the universal truth of the emotions. The man or -the woman into whom the school-boy or girl is to grow will in shaping -life be guided chiefly by the feelings. Whether the ordinary mortal -lives well or ill, basely or nobly, dully or vividly, is practically -determined by what he feels. However much the convictions have to do -in ordering conduct, feeling has more, and conviction itself is with -most mortals inseparably bound up with the emotions. The highest office -of education is to develop the emotions highly and nobly; and it is no -less essential to the intellectual than to the moral well-being of the -child that he be bred to feel as deeply and as wholesomely as possible. -Every teacher knows that in dealing with children the ultimate appeal -is to their feelings. If a crisis arises in school-life it is to the -emotions that the matter is inevitably referred, whether the instructor -likes this or not, and whether the appeal is made openly or is indirect -and tacit. Teaching must deal with the sentiments as well as with the -understanding. That no other means of training and properly developing -the feelings of youth is so efficient as literature seems to me a -proposition too self-evident to need further comment. - -Enthusiasm is so closely connected with the cultivation and training -of the emotions that it is not easy to draw a line between them. While -there is certainly no need to enlarge here upon the worth of enthusiasm -in education or in life, or upon literature as a means of arousing it, -it is worth while to emphasize the extent to which the mind of youth -may be affected by enthusiasm. The effects are naturally often so -indirect or intangible as not to be easily measured, but often, too, -they are direct and practical. Some years ago in a country school in -eastern Maine was still paramount the old-time Greenleaf's "Arithmetic" -which we elders remember with mixed feelings. The law of education -in those days, when children were still expected to do things which -were mapped out for them and to follow a course of study whether it -chanced to please their individual fancy or not, enforced the mastering -of everything in the text-book, even to sundry weird processes with -queer names such as "Alligation Alternate" and the like. The teacher -of this particular school, a plucky morsel of New England womanhood, -not much bigger than a chickadee, set herself resolutely to carry -through the arithmetic a class of farmer lads, better at the plow than -in mathematics. What happened she told me twenty-five years ago, and -I am still able to call up the vision of the air half of defiance, -half of amusement with which she said: "The boys were in a perfectly -hopeless muddle. I had explained and explained, until I wished I could -either cry like a woman or be a man and swear! The third day I had -an inspiration. In the very middle of the recitation, I told them to -shut up their books, and I cleaned every mark of the lesson off of -the blackboard. Then without a word of explanation I began to tell -them a little about the pamphlet Sir Walter Raleigh wrote about the -'Revenge;' and then I began to recite Tennyson's ballad—which was new -then. I was wrought up to the very top-notch anyway, and I just gave -that ballad for all there was in me. They were dazed a minute, and -then they pricked up their ears, their eyes began to shine, and I had -them. We kindled each other, and by the time I got through the tears -were running down my cheeks for simple excitement. When I got to the -end, you could just feel the hush. Then I told them to go outdoors and -snow-ball for ten minutes, and then to come in and conquer that lesson. -They were great, rough farmer boys, you understand; but the moment they -were outside, they gave a cheer, just to express things they couldn't -have put into words. When they came in they were alive to the ends of -their fingers, and we went over that old Alligation with a perfect -rush." This sort of thing would not be possible anywhere outside of the -old-fashioned country school, but it is a capital illustration of the -way in which poetry may stir the enthusiasm. - -More valuable still, because at once deeper and most lasting, is the -effect of literature in nourishing imagination. The real progress which -children make in education—the assimilation of the knowledge which -they receive—depends largely upon this power. In many branches of -study this is easily evident. What a child actually knows of geography -or of history obviously depends upon the extent to which his mind is -able to make real places or events remote in space or in time. The -same is true of those studies where the fact is not so evident; and it -is hardly too much to say that the advance of any student in higher -education is measured by the development of his imagination. - -The teacher of literature in the secondary schools, then, is to -consider that although his work is primarily done as a part of the -school requirement, he need not be without some clear and deliberate -intention in regard to the permanent effect upon the education and -so upon the character of the pupil. He may treat the getting of his -charges through the examinations as a purely secondary matter; a -matter, moreover, which is practically sure to be accomplished if the -greater and better purposes of the study have been secured. Besides a -general knowledge of literary history, the student should gain from -his training in the secondary school a vivid sense of the importance -and value of words; an appreciation of word-values as shown in actual -use by the masters; should increase in knowledge of life, and as it -were gain experience vicariously, so as to advance in perception of -intellectual and moral values; should be advanced in the control of -the feelings; in enthusiasm; and in the development of that noblest of -faculties, the imagination. - - - - -III - -SOME DIFFICULTIES - - -To deal clearly with the work of teaching, it is first of all essential -to deal frankly. In order that suggestions in regard to instruction -in literature may be of practical value, we must be entirely honest -in admitting and in facing whatever difficulties lie in the way and -whatever limitations are imposed by the conditions under which the work -is done. - -As things are at present arranged, an instructor, it seems not unjust -to say, must decide how far he is able to mingle genuine education with -the routine work which the system imposes upon him. If he has not the -power to settle this question, or if he is lacking in the disposition -to propose the question to himself, his labor is inevitably confined -chiefly to routine. His students are turned out examination-perfect, -it may be, but with minds as fatally cramped and checked as the feet -of a Chinese lady. If literature has a high and important function in -education, the teacher must consider deeply both what that function is -and how he is best to develop it. - -The failure on the part of instructors to do this makes much of the -work done in the secondary grades so mechanical as to be of the -smallest possible use so far as the expansion of the mind and of -the character of children is concerned. For a pupil in the lower -grades the first purpose of any and of all school-work should be -to teach him to use his mind,—to think. The actual acquirement of -facts is of importance really slight as compared to the value of -this. If at twelve he knows how to read and to write, is sound on the -multiplication-table, is familiar with the outlines of grammar and the -broadest divisions of geography, yet is accustomed to think for himself -in regard to the facts which he perceives from life or receives from -books, he may be regarded as admirably well on in the education which -he is to gain from the schools. Indeed, if he have learned to think, -he is excellently started even if he have accomplished nothing further -than simply to read and to write. - -In these years of child-life the study of literature can legitimately -have but two objects: it may and should minister to the delight of -youth, that so the taste for good books be fostered and as it were -inbred; and it should nourish the power of thinking. Whatever is beyond -this has no place in the lower grades, and personally I am entirely -free to say that much that is now called "the study of literature" is -the sort of elaborate work which belongs in the college or nowhere. -Few students are qualified to "study"—as the term is commonly -interpreted—literature until they are advanced further than the boys -and girls admitted to our high schools; further, indeed, than many who -are allowed to enter the universities. The great majority of those who -grind laboriously through the college entrance requirements in English -are utterly unequal to the work and get from it little of value and a -good deal of harm. - -What should be done in the lower grades, and usually all that can -with profit be attempted in the secondary schools anywhere, is to -cultivate in the children a love of literature and some appreciation -of it: appreciation intelligent, I mean, but not analytic. I would -have the secondary schools do little with the history of authors, -less with the criticism of style, and have no more explanation of -difficulties of language and of structure than is necessary for the -student's enjoyment. In a time when the draughts made by daily life -upon the attention of the young are so tremendous, when the pressure -of the more immediately practical branches of instruction is so great, -to add drudgery in connection with literature seems to me completely -futile and doubly wrong. The supreme test of success in whatever work -in literature is done in schools of the secondary grades should be, -according to my conviction, whether it has given delight, has fostered -a love of whatever is best in imaginative writings and in life. - -The natural abilities of children differ widely, and perhaps more -difference still is made by the home influences in which they pass -their earliest years. What should be done in the nursery can never be -fully made up in the school, and what should be breathed in from an -atmosphere of cultivation can never be imparted by instruction. It is -manifestly impossible to interest all in the artistic side of life to -the same extent, just as it is idle to hope to teach all to draw with -equal skill. This does not alter the direction of effort. The teacher -must recognize and accept natural limitations, but not on that account -be satisfied with aiming at less admirable results. - -Whatever are the conditions, it is possible to do something to -foster a love of what is really good in literature, and to avoid the -substitution of formal drill in the history of authors, the study of -conundrums concerning the sources of plots, the meaning of obsolete -words, and like pedantic pedagogics, for the friendly and vital study -of what should be a warm, live topic. If young folk can be made really -to care for good books, not only is substantial and lasting good -gained, but most that is now attempted is more surely secured. William -Blake declares that the truth can never be told so as to be understood -and not be believed. In the same way it may be said that if children -can be trained to recognize the characteristics of good literature, -they are sure, in nine cases out of ten at least, to care for it. - -This is the work which properly belongs to the secondary schools; and -it is quite as much as they can be expected to do even up to the close -of the high school course. I am personally unable to see what good -is accomplished by taking any body of school-children that ever came -under my own observation,—and the question must be judged by personal -experience,—and drilling them in such matters as the following. I have -taken these notes almost at random from approved school editions of the -classics, and they seem to me to be fairly representative. - - Some striking resemblances in the incantation scenes in - "Macbeth" and Middleton's "Witch" have led to a somewhat - generally accepted belief that Thomas Middleton was answerable - for the alleged un-Shakespearean portions of "Macbeth." - - * * * * * - - Shakespeare's indebtedness in "Midsummer's Night's Dream" to - "Il Percone" admits of no dispute. - - The incident of a Jew whetting his knife like Shylock occurs in - a Latin play, "Machiavellus," performed at St. John's College, - Cambridge, at Christmas, 1597. - -The opening note in a popular edition of "Silas Marner" is a comment -upon this passage: - - The questionable sound of Silas's loom, so unlike the natural, - cheerful trotting of the winnowing-machine, or the simple - rhythm of the flail, had a half-fearful fascination for the - Raveloe boys. - -The note reads as follows: - - The hand-loom, once found in every village and hamlet, was - controlled by the action of the feet on the treadles, and - worked by the hands. A figure representing the parts may - be found in "Johnson's Cyclopædia." The longer article on - "Weaving" in the "Encyclopædia Britannica" may also be - consulted. The rattle of the loom was in direct contrast - to the "cheerful trotting" of the winnowing-machine—an - old-fashioned hand-machine for separating the chaff from the - grain by means of wind produced by revolving fans. The flail, - still in common use for threshing grain by hand, consists of a - wooden staff or handle, hung on a club called a swiple, so as - to turn easily. - -If the end of the study of fiction is the acquirement of dry facts, -this note may pass. I have purposely selected an example which is not -worse than the average, and which may perhaps be supposed to have an -excuse in the consideration that so many readers may be ignorant of all -the contrivances mentioned; but can any person with a sense of humor -suppose that a real boy is to get any proper enjoyment out of a story -when he is at the outset asked to consult a couple of cyclopædias, and -is interrupted in his reading by comments of this sort? The real point -of the passage, moreover,—the literary significance,—the fact that -the boys of Raveloe heard the winnowing-machine and threshing-flail -daily, and so were attracted by the novelty of Marner's weaving, with -the use of this by George Eliot to emphasize the weaver's isolation in -the neighborhood, is left utterly unnoticed. - -Were it worth while, I could give from text-books in general use -examples more unsatisfactory than these; but this is a fair sample of -the things which are administered to pupils in the name of literary -study. The students are not interested in these details; and I am -inclined to believe that most of the teachers who mistakenly feel -obliged to drill classes in them could not honestly say that they -themselves care a fig for such barren facts. It is no wonder that out -of the school course young folk so often get the notion that literature -is dull. In a recent entrance paper a boy wrote as follows: - - I could never understand why so much time has to be given in - school to old books just because they have been known a long - time. It would be better if we could have given the time to - something useful. - -He said what many boys feel, and what not a few of them have thought -out frankly to themselves, although perhaps few would express it so -squarely. If the study of literature means no more than is represented -by work on notes and the history of books and authors, I most fully -agree with him. - -Some of the books at present included in the college entrance -requirement, it must be added, lend themselves too much to -unintelligent pedantry. Undoubtedly much thought has been given to the -selection, although perhaps less sympathetic consideration of child -nature. The result is not in all cases satisfactory. To foster a taste -for poetry a teacher may, it is true, do much with "Julius Cæsar," -but I have yet to see the class of undergraduates with which I should -personally hope to arouse enthusiasm with "L'Allegro," "Il Penseroso," -"Lycidas," or "Comus." I may be simply confessing my own limitations, -but I should think all of these poems, magnificent in themselves, -hardly fitted for the boys and girls who are found in our public -schools. I have extracted from more than one teacher a confession of -entire inability to take pleasure in the Milton which they assure their -pupils is beautiful; and while this is an arraignment of instructors -rather than of the works, it is significant of the attitude the honest -minds of children are likely to take. - -By way of making things worse, scholars are drilled in Macaulay's -"Milton."[35:1] The inclusion of this essay, the product of the -author's 'prentice hand, is most lamentable. The philistinism of -Macaulay is here rampant; and the one thing which students are sure -to get from the essay is the conception that poetry is the product -of barbarism, to be outgrown and cast aside when civilization is -sufficiently advanced. Again and again in entrance examinations and -in second-year notebooks, I have found this idea expressed. It is not -only the one thing which survives out of the essay, but is often the -one conviction in regard to literature which has survived examinations -as the result of the study of the entire entrance requirement. In the -entrance paper of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology for last -year (1905), I had put a question in regard to the difference between -poetry and prose. From the replies I have taken a few of the many -echoes from the study of the "Milton." - - Macaulay claims that the uncivilized alone care for poetry. - - I agree with Macaulay that prose is the product of - civilization, . . . while poetry was the way the ancients - expressed themselves. - - Poetry is not being written nearly so much now as in the Dark - Ages, simply because men are learning to treat subjects in - classes. - - Macaulay says that the writer of a great poem must have a - certain unsoundness of mind, and Carlyle makes the statement - that to be a great poet a man must first be as a little child. - If these opinions are just, one would think poetry could not be - regarded as of a quality equal to prose works. - - Poetry came first in the lapse of time, and as people grew more - civilized, as their education grew higher, they wrote in prose. - -Obviously these extracts hardly do justice to the views of Macaulay, -but it is evidently absurd to try to interest pupils in poetry when -they are getting from one of the works selected "for careful study" the -idea that the poet is a semi-madman practicing one of the habits of a -half-civilized race![36:1] - -Fortunately much of the reading is better, although in effect the books -are sometimes limited by the difficulty of keeping the interest of -children up for the long poem. The inclusion in the list of "Elaine" -and "The Lady of the Lake" of course presupposes on the part of the -pupil familiarity in the lower grades with lyrics and brief narrative -poems; and in many cases this may be sufficient. Most pupils will be -sure to care for "The Ancient Mariner," many for "The Princess;" and -any wholesome boy, with ordinary intelligence, should be interested in -"Ivanhoe" and "Macbeth." - -As things stand, however, the teacher is forced to deal largely with -books which almost compel formal and pedantic treatment. Burke's -"Speech on Conciliation," admirable as it is in its place and way, -will hardly give to a young student an insight into literature or a -taste for imaginative work. The normal, average lad is likely, it -seems to me, to be bored by "Silas Marner," or at least very mildly -interested; and I confess frankly my inability to understand how -youthful enthusiasm is to be aroused or more than youthful tolerance -secured for Irving's "Life of Goldsmith" or Macaulay's "Life of -Johnson." Plenty of pupils are docile enough to allow themselves to be -led placidly through these works, and indeed to submit to any volume -imposed by school regulations; but what the teacher is endeavoring to -do is to convince the young readers that books entitled to the name -"literature" are really of more worth and interest than the newspaper, -the detective story, the sensational novel, or the dime-theatre song. -It is perhaps not possible to find among the English Classics works -well adapted to such use,—although I refuse to believe it,—but I do -at least feel that the present entrance-requirement list does not lend -itself readily, to say the least, to the task of the teacher who aims -at developing an intelligent and loving appreciation of literature. - -The list of obstacles which beset the way of a teacher of literature -might easily be lengthened; but these seem chief. They are -discouraging; but they exist. They must be faced and overcome, and -nothing is gained by ignoring them. The successful teacher, like the -successful general, is he who most clearly examines difficulties, and -best succeeds in devising means by which they may be vanquished. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[35:1] Since this was written this essay has been removed from the -list, but the effects of it are still with us, as it was used for all -classes entering college before 1906. I leave this comment, however, -because of its important bearing on a point which I wish to bring up -later. - -[36:1] See page 212. - - - - -IV - -OTHER OBSTACLES - - -The difficulties set down in the last chapter exist in the conditions -under which teachers must work. They should be recognized, to the end -that they may be as far as possible overcome. They can be done away -with only by the slow and gradual changing of public opinion and the -re-forming of pedagogic intelligence. For the present they are to be -reckoned with as inevitable limitations. - -Another class of obstacles to the ideal result of the teaching of -literature exists largely in the application of the modern system or in -the method of the individual teacher. These may to a great extent be -done away with by a proper understanding of conditions, a just estimate -of what may be accomplished, and a wise choice of the means of doing -this. Teachers must take things as they find them, but the ultimate -result of work depends to a great extent upon how they take them. If -they must often accept unfortunate conditions, they may at least reduce -to a minimum whatever is uneffective in their own method. - -The most serious defects which depend largely upon individual teaching -are four. The first is the danger, already alluded to, of teaching -children _about_ literature; the second is that of making too great a -demand upon the child; the third is the common habit of endeavoring to -reach the enthusiasm of the pupil through the reason, instead of aiming -at the reason through the enthusiasm; and the fourth is—to speak -boldly—the possible incapacity of the teacher for this particular work. - -The first of these is the most widespread. It is so natural to bring -forward facts concerning the history of writers and of books, it is -indeed so impossible to avoid this entirely; to induce students to -repeat glibly what some critic has written about authors and their -works is so easy, that this insensibly and almost inevitably tends -to make up the bulk of instruction. Every incompetent teacher takes -refuge in such formal drill. The history of literature is concrete; -it is easily tabulated; and it is naturally accepted by children as -being exactly in line with the work which properly belongs to other -studies with which they are acquainted. If a child is set to treat -literature just as he has treated history or mathematics, the process -will appeal to him as logical and easily to be mastered. He will find -no incongruity in applying the same method to "Macbeth" and to the list -of Presidents or to the multiplication-table; and however well or ill -he succeed in memorizing what is given him, he will feel the ease of -working in accustomed lines. Names and dates may be learned by rote, -old entrance-paper questions are tangible things, and thus examinations -come to mean annual offerings of childish brains. To teach literature -requires sympathy and imagination: the history of literature requires -only perseverance. Much that in school reports is set down as the study -of masterpieces is in reality only a mixture of courses in biography -and history, more or less spiced with gossip. - -The second danger, that of making too great a demand upon the child, -is one which, to some extent, besets all school work to-day, but which -seems to be especially great and especially disastrous in the case -of the study we are considering. Often the nature of the questions -asked shows one form of this demand in a way that is nothing less -than preposterous. Children in secondary schools are required to have -original ideas in regard to the character of Lady Macbeth; to define -the workings of the mind of Shylock; to produce personal opinions -in the discussion of the madness of Hamlet. Children whose highest -acquirements in English composition do not and cannot reach beyond the -plainest expository statement of simple facts and ideas, are coolly -requested to discriminate between the style of "Il Penseroso" and -that of "L'Allegro," and to show how each is adapted to the purpose -of the poet. If they were allowed to write from the point of view of -a child, the matter would be bad enough; but no teacher who sets such -a task would be satisfied with anything properly belonging to the -child-mind. It is probably safe to be tolerably certain that no teacher -ever gave out this sort of a question who could without cribbing from -the critics perform satisfactorily the task laid upon the unfortunate -children. - -I have before me a pamphlet entitled "Suggestions for Teachers of -English Classics in the High Schools." It is not a gracious task to -find fault with a fellow worker and a fellow writer in the same line in -which I am myself offering suggestions, and I therefore simply put it -to the common sense of teachers what the effect upon the average high -school pupil would be if he were confronted with questions such as are -included in the proposed outline for the study of "Evangeline." The -author of the pamphlet directs that these points are to be used "after -some power of analysis has been developed." - - The language. - - Relative proportion of English and Latin. - Archaic element, proportion and use. - Weight of the style; presentative and symbolic words. - Emotional element; experimental significance of terms. - Picture-element; prevailing character of figures of - speech. - - The structure. - - Grammatical. - - Poetic uses of words; archaisms, poetic forms. - Poetic uses of parts of speech, parse.[42:1] - Poetic constructions and inversions, analyze. - - Metrical. - - Number and character of metrical "feet." - Accent and quantity, the spondee. - Scan selected lines, compare with classic - hexameter. - Compare hexameter with other verse-forms. - Character of rhyme, compare with other poems. - Presence and use of alliteration. - - Musical. - - Examine for lightness and speed; trochee, dactyl, - polysyllables. - Examine for dignity; iambus, monosyllables. - Number of syllables in individual lines. - Character of consonants; stopped, unstopped, - voiced. - Character of vowels; back, front, round, harsh. - Correspondence of sound to sense. - -It would be interesting, and perhaps somewhat humiliating, for each -one of us who are teachers to take a list of the questions we have set -for examinations in literature and with perfect honesty tell ourselves -how many of them we could ourselves answer with any originality, and -how many it is fair to suppose that our students could write about -with any ideas except those gathered from teacher or text-book. With -the pressure of a doubtful system and of unintelligent custom always -upon us, few of us, it is to be feared, would escape without a sore -conscience. - -When I speak of a school-boy or a school-girl as writing with -"originality," I do not mean anything profound. I am not so deluded as -to suppose this originality will take the form of startlingly novel -discoveries in regard to the significance of work or the intention of -authors. I only mean that what the boy or girl writes shall be written -because he or she really thinks it, and that each idea, no matter if -it be obvious and crude, shall have some trace of individuality which -will indicate that it has passed through the mind of the particular -pupil who expresses it. This, I believe, is what should chiefly concern -the maker of examination-papers. He should especially aim at giving -students an opportunity of showing personal opinions and convictions. - -No one who has looked over files of examination-papers is likely to -deny that we are most of us likely to be betrayed into asking of our -classes absurd things in the line of criticism. It is all very well -to remember the scriptural phrase about the high character of some of -the utterances of babes and sucklings; but this is hardly sufficient -warrant for insisting that our school-children shall babble in -philosophy and chatter in criticism. The honest truth is that we are -constantly demanding of pupils things that we could for the most part -do but very poorly ourselves. The unfortunate youngsters who should -be solacing themselves with fairy-tales or with stories of adventure -as their taste happens to be, are being dragged through "The Vicar of -Wakefield,"—an exquisite book, which I doubt if one person in fifty -can read to-day with proper appreciation and delight until he is at -least twenty-five. They are being asked to write themes about Lady -Macbeth,—and if they were really frank, and wrote their own real -thoughts, if they considered her from the point of view of the children -they are, where is the teacher who would not feel obliged to return -the theme as a failure? Those instructors who recognized that it was -of real worth because genuine would also realize that it would be -impossible when tried by the modern standard of examinations. - -How far individual teachers go in demanding from children what the -youthful mind cannot be fairly expected to give will depend upon -the personal equation of the instructor. In too many cases the -entrance-examinations set a standard which in the fitting-schools may -not safely be ignored, but which is fatal to all original thinking. -Perhaps the worst form of this is the wrenching from the student what -are supposed to be criticisms upon artistic form or content. A hint of -the teaching which is intended to lead up to this has been given in -the topics suggested in connection with the study of "Evangeline" on -page 42. The "outline" from which those are quoted goes on to give the -following questions: - - Of what literary spirit is "Evangeline" the expression? - - What is the author's thought-habit as shown in the poem? - - What is the place of this poem in the development of verse? - -I am perhaps a little uncharitable to these queries because I am, I -confess, entirely unable to answer them myself; but I am also sure that -no child in the stage of mental development belonging to the secondary -schools would have any clear and reasonable idea even of what they -mean. The example is an extreme one, but it has more parallels than -would seem possible. - -The formulation of views on æsthetics, whether in regard to workmanship -or to motive, is utterly beyond the range of any mental condition the -teacher in secondary schools has a right to assume or to expect. All -that can happen is that the student who is asked to answer æsthetic -conundrums will reproduce, in form more or less distorted according -to the parrot-like fidelity of his memory, views he has heard without -understanding them. Any teacher of common sense knows this, and any -teacher of independent mind will refuse to be bullied by manuals or by -entrance-examination papers into inflicting tasks of this sort upon his -pupils. - -In any branch many students either go on blunderingly or fail -altogether through sheer ignorance of how to study. In the case of -literature perhaps more fail through this cause than through all others -combined. A robust, honest, and not unintelligent lad, who is fairly -well disposed toward school work, but whose real interests are in -outdoor life and active sport, who is intellectually interested only -in the obviously practical side of knowledge, is set down to "study" a -play of Shakespeare's. He is disposed to do it well, if not from any -vital interest in the matter, at least from a general habit of being -faithful in his work and a healthful instinct to do a thing thoroughly -if he undertakes it at all. He is at the outset puzzled to know what is -expected of him. In arithmetic or algebra he has had definite tasks, -and success has been in direct proportion to the diligence with which -he has followed a course definitely marked out. Now he casts about for -a rule of procedure. He can understand that he is expected to learn -the meaning of unusual or obsolete words, that he is to make himself -acquainted with the story so that he may be able to answer any of the -conundrums which adorn ingeniously the puzzle department of examination -papers. These things he does, but he is too sensible not to know that -if this is all there is to the study of literature the game is not -worth the candle. He cannot help feeling that the time thus employed -might be put to a better use; he is probably bored; and as he is sure -to know that he is bored, he is likely to conceive a contempt for -literature which is none the less deep and none the less permanent for -not being put into words. He very likely comes to believe, with the -inevitable tendency of youth to make its own feelings the criteria -by which to judge all the world, that everybody is really bored by -literature, if only, for some inscrutable reason, people did not feel -it necessary to shroud the matter in so much humbug. Talk about the -beauty of Shakespeare, about the greatness of his poetry, the wonders -of literary art, come to affect him as cant pure and simple. He puts -this to himself plainly or not according to his temperament; but the -feeling is in his mind, showing at every turn to one wise enough to -discern. Now and then a boy is born with the taste and appreciation of -poetry, and of course even in these days, when a literary atmosphere in -the home is unhappily so rare, an occasional student appears from time -to time who has been taught to care for poetry where every child should -learn to love it, in the nursery. On the whole, however, the average -school-boy really cares little or nothing for literature, and in his -secret heart is entirely convinced that nobody else cares either. - -Not knowing how to "study" literature, then, and feeling that in -literature is nothing to study which is of consequence, the pupil is -in no position to make even a reasonable beginning. He cannot even -approach literature in any proper attitude unless he can be made to -care for it; unless he can be so interested that he ceases to feel the -profession of admiration for the Shakespeare he is asked to work upon -to be necessarily cant and affectation. Perhaps the hardest part of the -task set before the teacher is to bring the pupil into a frame of mind -where he can properly study poetry and to give him some insight into -what such study may and should mean. - -How this is to be accomplished I cannot pretend fully to say. In -speaking of what I may call "inspirational" training in literature -I shall try to answer the question to some extent; and here I may at -least point out that the situation is from the first utterly hopeless -if the teacher is in the same state of mind as the pupil. If the -instructor is able to see no method of studying literature other than -mechanical drudgery over form, the looking-up of words, verification -of dates, dissection of plot, and so on, it is idle to hope that he -will be able to aid the class to anything better than this dry-as-dust -plodding. The teacher may at least learn what at its best the "study" -is. He may or may not have the power of inciting those under him to -enthusiasm, but he may at least show them that something is possible -beyond the mechanical treatment of the masterpieces of art. - -A writer in the (Chicago) "Dial" states admirably the attitude of great -masses of students in saying: - - There are many people, young people in particular, who, with - the best will in the world, cannot understand why it is that - men make such a fuss about literature, and who are honestly - puzzled by the praises bestowed upon the great literary - artists. They would like to join in sympathetic appreciation - of the masters, and they have an abundant store of gratitude - and reverence to lavish upon objects that approve themselves as - worthy; but just what there is in Shakespeare and Wordsworth - and Tennyson to call for such seeming extravagance of eulogy - remains a dark mystery. Such people are apt in their moments of - revolt to set it all down to a sort of critical conspiracy, - and to consider those who voice the conventional literary - estimates as chargeable with an irritating kind of hypocrisy. - They cannot see for the life of them why the books of the hour, - with their timeliness, their cleverness, their sentimental or - sensational interest, should be held of no serious account by - the real lovers of literature, while the dull babblers of a - bygone age are exalted to the skies by these same devotees of - the art of letters. . . . Some young people never recover from - the condition of open revolt into which they are thrown by the - injudicious methods of our education. - -Out of his own experience and appreciation the teacher must be able to -show the pupil some method of studying literature which shall in the -measure of the student's individual capacity lead to a conception of -what literature is and wherein lies its importance. Until this can be -done, nothing has been effected which is of any real or lasting value. - -The third defect which I have mentioned I have put in a phrase which -may at first seem somewhat cryptic. What is meant by the attempt to -reach the enthusiasm of the child through the reason may not be at once -apparent. Yet the thing is simple. It is not difficult to lead children -to think, and to think deeply, of things which have touched their -feeling. If once their emotions are aroused, they will go actively -forward in every investigation of which their minds are capable, -and with whatever degree of appreciation they are equal to. A child -cannot, however, be reasoned into any vital admiration. The extent to -which an adult is to be touched emotionally by argument is extremely -limited. Few travelers, for instance, are able really to respond when -an officious verger or care-taker points out some historic spot, and -after glibly relating some event in his professional patter, ends with -a look which says almost more plainly than words: "Stand just here, -and thrill! Sixpence a thrill, please." Yet this is very much what is -expected of children. The teacher takes a famous book, laboriously -recounts its merits, its fame, its beauties, and then tacitly commands -the children: "Think of that, and thrill! One credit for every thrill." -It is true that the verger demands a fee and the teacher promises a -reward, but the result is the same. Do the children thrill? Is there a -conscientious teacher who has tried this method who has not with bitter -disappointment realized that the students have come out of the course -with nothing save a few poor facts and disfigured conventional opinions -which they reserve for examinations as they might save battered pennies -for the contribution-box? They have been personally conducted through -a course of literature. They come out of it in much the same condition -as return home the personally conducted through foreign art-galleries -who say: "Yes, I must have seen the 'Mona Lisa,' if it's in the Louvre. -I saw all the pictures there, you know." The chief difference is that -children are generally incapable, outside of examination-papers, of -pretending an enthusiasm which they do not feel. - -One thing which is indisputable is that children know when they are -bored. Many adults become so proficient in the art of self-deception -as to be able to cheat themselves into thinking they are at the height -of enjoyment because they are doing what they consider to be the -proper thing; when in simple truth their only pleasure must lie in the -gratification of a futile vanity. Of children this is seldom true; -or, if it is true, it extends only to the fictions practiced by their -own childish world. If they have conventions, these differ from the -conventions of their elders, and they do not fool themselves with a -show of enjoyment when the reality is wanting. If they are wearied by a -book, the fact that it is a masterpiece does not in the least console -them. They may be forced by teachers to read or to study it, and to -say on examination-papers that it is beautiful; yet they not only know -they are not pleased, but to each other they are generally ready to -acknowledge it with perfect frankness. - -The need of saying this in the present connection is that it is not -possible really to convince children they are enjoying the writing of -themes about Mrs. Primrose, or about Silas Marner and Effie, or on -the character of Lady Macbeth, unless they are vitally interested. -I am far from being so modern as to think that pupils should not be -asked to do anything which they do not wish to do; but I am radical -enough to believe that no other good which may be accomplished by the -study of literature in any other way can compensate for making good -books wearisome. The idea that literature is something to be vaguely -respected but not to be read for enjoyment is already sufficiently -prevalent; and rather than see it more widespread, I would have all the -so-called teaching of literature in the secondary schools abolished -altogether. - -The last point which I mentioned as likely to diminish the value of -teaching is that it so often demands of teachers more than can be -surely or safely counted on in the way of fitness. This I do not mean -to dwell upon, nor is it my purpose to draw up a bill of arraignment -against my craft. I wish simply to comment that one essential, a prime -essential, in the teaching of literature is the power of imaginative -enthusiasm on the part of the teacher. This would be recognized if the -subject of instruction were any other of the fine arts. If teachers -were required to train school-children in the symphonies of Beethoven -or in the pictures of Titian, everybody would realize that some -special aptitude on the part of the instructor was requisite. Every -normal school or college graduate is set to teach the masterpieces of -Shakespeare or of Milton, and the fact that the poetry is as completely -a work of art as is symphony or picture, and that what holds true of -one as the product of artistic imagination must hold true of the other, -is quietly and even unconsciously ignored. - -No amount of study will create in a teacher the artistic imagination in -its highest sense, although much may be done in the way of developing -artistic perception; but at least self-improvement may go far in the -nourishing of the important quality of self-honesty. An instructor -must learn to deal fairly with himself. He must be strong enough to -acknowledge to himself fearlessly if he is not able to care for some -work that is ranked as an artistic masterpiece. He must be willing to -say unflinchingly to himself that he cannot do justice to this work or -to that, because he is not in sympathy with it, or because he lacks any -experience which would give him a key to its mood and meaning. - -One thing seems to me to be entirely above dispute in this delicate -inquiry: that it is idle to hope to impart to children what we have -not learned ourselves; and it follows that the first necessity is to -appreciate our shortcomings. I ask only for the same sort of honesty -which would by common consent be essential in teaching the more humble -branches. A teacher who could not solve quadratic equations would -manifestly be an ill instructor in algebra. By the same token it is -evident that a teacher who cannot enter into the heart of a poem, who -does not understand the mood of a play, who has not a real enthusiasm -for literature, is not fitted to help children to a comprehension and -an appreciation of these. Neither is the power to rehearse the praises -and phrases of critics or commentators a sufficient qualification for -teaching. In an examination-paper at the Institute of Technology a boy -recently wrote with admirable frankness and directness: - - I confess that while I like Shakespeare, I like other poets - better, and while my teachers have told me that he was the - greatest writer, they never seemed to know why. - -The boy unconsciously implies a most important fact, namely, that if -a teacher does not know why a poet is great, it is not only difficult -to convince the pupil of the reality of his claims, but also is it -impossible to disguise from the clever scholars the real ignorance -of the instructor. As well try to warm children by a description of -a fire as to endeavor to awake in them admiration and pleasure by -parrot-phrases, no matter how glibly or effectively repeated. They are -aroused only by the contagion of genuine feeling; they are moved only -by finding that the teacher is first genuinely moved himself. - -It is bad enough when an instructor repeats unemotionally what he has -unemotionally acquired about arithmetic or geography. Pupils will -receive mechanically whatever is mechanically imparted; and in even -the most purely intellectual branches such training can at best only -distend the mind of the child without nourishing it. When it comes to -a study which is presented as of value precisely because it kindles -feeling, the absurdity becomes nothing less than monstrous. - -Any child of ordinary intelligence comes sooner or later to perceive, -whether he reasons it out or not, that much of the literature presented -to him is not in the least worth the bother of study if it is to -be taken merely on its face-value. If "The Vicar of Wakefield" or -"Silas Marner" is to be read simply for the plot, either book might -be swept out of existence to-morrow and the world be little poorer. -A conscientious teacher will at least be honest with himself in -determining how much more than the obvious and often slight face-value -he is enabling his class to perceive. - -An ordinary modern school-boy unconsciously but inevitably measures -the values of the books presented to him by the news of the day and -the facts of life as he sees it. If he is not made to feel that books -represent something more than a statement of outward fact or of -fiction, he is too clear-headed not to see that they are of little -real worth, and with the pitiless candor of youth he is too honest not -to acknowledge this to himself. Young people are apt to credit their -elders with enormous power of pretending. The conventionalities of -life, those arrangements which adults recognize as necessary to the -comfort and even to the continuance of society, are not infrequently -regarded by the young as rank hypocrisy. The same is true of any tastes -which they cannot share. Again and again I have come upon the feeling -among students that the respect for literature professed by their -elders was only one of the many shams of which adult life appears to -children to be so largely made up. - -From the purely intellectual side of the matter, moreover, the youth -is right in feeling that there is nothing so remarkable in play or -poem as to justify the enthusiasm which he is told he should feel. If -he sees only what I have called the face-value, he would be a dunce -if he did not imagine an absurdity in the estimate at which the works -of great artists are held. He is precisely in the position of the man -who judges the great painting by its realistic fidelity to details, -and logically, from his point of view, ranks a well-defined photograph -above "The Night Watch" or the Dresden "Madonna." There is more thrill -and more emotion for the boy in the poorest newspaper account of a game -of football than in the greatest play of Shakespeare's,—unless the lad -has really got into the spirit of the poetry. - -If nothing is to be taken into account but the intellectual content -of literature, the child is therefore perfectly right, and doubly so -from his own point of view. Regarded as a mere statement of fact it -is to be expected that the average modern boy will find "Macbeth" far -less exciting and absorbing than an account of a football match or of -President Roosevelt's spectacular hunting. If we expect the lad to -believe without contention and without mental reservation that the work -of literature is really of more importance and interest than these -articles of the newspaper or the magazine, we are forced to depend upon -the qualities which distinguish poetry as art. If books are to be used -only as glove-stretchers to expand mechanically the minds of the young, -it is better to throw aside the works of the masters, and to come down -frankly to able expositions of literal fact, stirring and absorbing. - -It must be always borne in mind, moreover, that little permanent result -is produced except by what the pupil does for himself. The teacher is -there to encourage, to stimulate, to direct; but the real work is done -in the brain of the student. This limits what may wisely be attempted -in the line of instruction. What the teacher is able to lead the pupil -to discover or to think out for himself is within the limit of sound -and valuable work. With every class, and—what makes the problem much -more difficult—with every boy or girl in the class, the capacity will -vary. The signs, moreover, by which we determine how far a child is -thinking for himself, instead of more or less consciously mimicking -the mind of the master, are all well-nigh intangible, and must be -watched for with the nicest discernment. Often the teacher is obliged -to help the class or the individual as we help little children playing -at guessing-games with "Now you are hot," or "Now you are cold;" but -just as the game is a failure if the child has in the end to be told -outright the answer to the conundrum, so the instruction is a failure -if the student does not make his own discovery of the meaning and worth -of poem or play. The moment the instructor finds himself forced to do -the thinking for his class in any branch of study, he may be sure that -he has overstepped the boundary of real work, or at least that he has -been going too rapidly for his pupils to keep pace with him. This -is even likely to be true when he is obliged to do the phrasing, the -putting of the thought into word. He cannot profitably go farther at -that time. In another way, at another time, he may be able to bring -the class over the difficulty; but he is doing them an injury and not -a benefit, if he go on to do for them the thinking, or that realizing -of thought which belongs to putting thought into word. He is then not -educating, but "cramming." It is his duty to encourage, to assist, but -never to do himself what to be of value must be the actual work of the -learner himself. - -All this is evident enough in those branches where results are definite -and concrete, like the learning of the multiplication-table or of the -facts of geography. It is equally true in subjects where reasoning is -essential, like algebra or syntax. Most of all, if not most evidently, -is it vitally true in any connection where are involved the feelings -and anything of the nature of appreciation of artistic values. We -evidently cannot do the children's memorizing for them; but no more -can we do for them their reasoning; and least of all is it possible -to manufacture for them their likings and their dislikings, their -appreciations and their enthusiasms. To tell children what feelings -they should have over a given piece of literature produces about the -same effect as an adjuration to stop growing so fast or a request that -they change the color of their eyes. - -In any emotional as in any intellectual experience, intensity -and completeness must ultimately depend upon the capacity and the -temperament of the individual concerned. It is useless to hope that a -dull, stolid, unimaginative boy will have either the same appreciation -or the same enjoyment of art as his fellow of fine organization and -sensitive temperament. The personal limitation must be accepted, just -as is accepted the impossibility of making some youths proficient in -geometry or physics. It may be necessary under our present system—and -if so the fact is not to the credit of existing conditions—to present -the dull pupil with a set of ideas which he may use in examinations. -The proceeding would be not unlike providing the dead with an obolus by -way of fare across the Styx; and certainly in no proper sense could be -considered education. Difficult as it may be, the pupil must be made to -think and to feel for himself, or the work is naught. - -Perhaps the tendency to try to do for the student what he should -accomplish for himself is the most general and the most serious of -all the errors into which teachers are likely to fall. The temptation -is so great, however, and the conditions so favorable to this sort of -mistake, that it is not possible to mete out to instructors who fall -into it an amount of blame at all equal to the gravity of the offense. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[42:1] I am unable to resist the temptation to call attention to the -intimation that the writer perceives some relation between poetry and -parsing. It would be interesting if he had developed this. - - - - -V - -FOUNDATIONS OF WORK. - - -The foundation of any understanding or appreciation of literature is -manifestly the power of reading it intelligently. A truth so obvious -might seem to be taken for granted and to need no saying; but any -one who has dealt with entrance examination-papers is aware how -many students get to the close of their fitting-school life without -having acquired the power of reading with anything even approaching -intelligence. Primary as it may sound, I cannot help emphasizing as -the foundation of all study of literature the training of students in -reading, pure and simple. - -The practical value of simple reading aloud seems to me to have been -too often overlooked by teachers of literature. Teachers read to their -pupils, and this is or should be of great importance; but the thing of -which I am now speaking is the reading of the students to the teacher -and to the class. In the first place a student cannot read aloud -without making evident the degree of his intelligent comprehension of -what he is reading. He must show how much he understands and how he -understands it. - -The queer freaks in misinterpretation which come out in the reading -of pupils are often discouraging enough, but they are amusing and -enlightening. Any teacher can furnish absurd illustrations, and it is -not safe to assume of even apparently simple passages that the child -understands them until he has proved it by intelligent reading aloud. -The attention which oral reading is at present receiving is one of the -encouraging signs of the times, and cannot but do much to forward the -work of the teacher of literature. - -Of so much importance is it, however, that the first impression of -a class be good, that the instructor must be sure either to find a -reasonably good reader among the pupils for the first rendering or must -give it himself. In plays this is hardly wise or practicable; but here -the parts are easily assigned beforehand, and the pride of the students -made a help in securing good results. In any work a class should be -made to understand that the first thing to do in studying a piece of -literature is to learn to read it aloud intelligently and as if it were -the personal utterance of the reader. - -In dealing with a class it is often a saving of time and an easy method -of avoiding the effects of individual shyness to have the pupils read -in concert. In dealing with short pieces of verse this is, moreover, -a means of getting all the class into the spirit of the piece. The -method lacks, of course, in nicety; but it is in many cases practically -serviceable. - -Above everything the teacher must be sure, before any attempt is -made to do anything further, that the pupil has a clear understanding -at least of the language of what he reads. My own experience with -boys who come from secondary schools even of good grade has shown me -that they not infrequently display an extraordinary incapability of -getting from the sentences and phrases of literature the most plain -and obvious meaning, especially in the case of verse; while as to -unusual expressions they are constantly at sea. On a recent entrance -examination-paper I had put, as a test of this very power, the lines -from "Macbeth:" - - And with some sweet oblivious antidote - Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff. - -The play is one which they had studied carefully at school, and they -were asked to explain the force in these lines of "oblivious." Here are -some of the replies: - - "Oblivious," used in this quotation, means that the person - speaking was not particular as to the kind of antidote that was - chosen. - - A remedy that would not expose the lady to public suspicion. - - The word "oblivious" implies a soothing cure, which will heal - without arousing the senses. - - An antidote applied in a forgetful way, or unknown to the - person. - - "Oblivious" here means some antidote that would put Lady - Macbeth to sleep while the doctor removed the cause of the - trouble. - - "Oblivious antidote" means one that is very pleasing. - - The word "oblivious" is beautifully used here. Macbeth wishes - the doctor to administer to Lady Macbeth some antidote which - will cure her of her fatal [_sic_] illness, but which will not - at all be any bitter medicine. - - "Oblivious" here means relieving. - - "Oblivious" means some remedy the doctor had forgotten, but - might remember if he thought hard enough. - -Of course many of the replies were sensible and sound, but those hardly -better than these were discouragingly numerous. - -In my own second-year work, in which the students have had all the -fitting-school training and the freshman drill besides, I am not -infrequently confounded by the inability of students to understand the -meaning of words which one uses as a matter of course. The statement -that Raleigh secretly married a Lady in Waiting, for instance, -reappeared in a note-book in the assertion that Sir Walter ran away -with Queen Elizabeth's waiting-maid; and a remark about something which -took place at Holland House brought out the unbelievable perversion -that the event happened "in a Dutch tavern." Personally I have never -discovered how far beyond words of one syllable a lecturer to students -may safely go in any assurance that his language will be understood by -all the members of his class; but this is one of the things which must -be decided if teaching is to be effective. - -It must always be remembered that the vocabulary of literature is to -some extent different from that employed in the ordinary business of -life. The student is confronted with a set of terms which he seldom -or never uses in common speech; he must learn to appreciate fine -distinctions in the use of language; he must receive from words a -precision and a force of meaning, a richness of suggestion, which is -to be appreciated only by special and specific training. It will be -instructive for the teacher to take any ordinary high-school class, for -instance, and examine how far each member gets a complete and lucid -notion of what Burke meant in the opening sentence of the "Speech on -Conciliation:" - - I hope, Sir, that notwithstanding the austerity of the Chair, - your good nature will incline you to some degree of indulgence - toward human frailty. - -An instructor is apt to assume that the intent of a passage such as -this is entirely clear, yet I apprehend that not one high-school pupil -in twenty gets the real force of this unaided. - -If this example seems in its diction too remote from every-day speech -to be a fair example, the teacher may try the experiment with the -sentence in "Books" in which Emerson speaks of volumes that are - - So medicinal, so stringent, so revolutionary, so authoritative. - -Every word is of common, habitual use, but most young people would be -well-nigh helpless when confronted with them in this passage. - -The use in literature of allusion, of figures, of striking and unusual -employment of words, must become familiar to the student before he -is in a condition to deal with literature easily and with full -intelligence. The process must be almost like that of learning to read -in a foreign tongue. For a teacher to ignore this fact is to take the -position of a professor in Italian or Spanish who begins the reading -of his pupils not with words and simple sentences, but with intricate -prose and verse. - -It must be remembered, moreover, that if the diction of literature -is removed from the daily experience of the pupil, the ideas and the -sentiments of literature are yet more widely apart from it. Literature -must deal largely with abstract thoughts and ideas, expressed or -implied; it is necessarily concerned with sentiments more elevated or -more profound than those with which life makes the young familiar. They -must be educated to take the point of view of the author, to rise to -the mental plane of a great writer as far as they are capable of so -doing. Until they can in some measure accomplish this, they are not -even capable of reading the literature they are supposed to study. - -Fortunately it is with reading literature as it is with reading foreign -tongues. Often the context, the general tone, the spirit, will carry -us over passages in which there is much that is not clear to our exact -knowledge. Children are constantly able to get from a story or a poem -much more than would seem possible to their ignorance of the language -of literature. They are helped by truth to life even when they are far -from realizing what they are receiving; so that it would be manifestly -unjust to assume that the measure of a child's profit in a given case -is to be gauged too nicely by his acquaintance with the words, the -phrases, the tropes, the suggestions in which the author has conveyed -it. The fact remains, however, that in attempting to do anything -effective in the way of instruction the teacher has first of all to -train his pupil in the language of literature. - -The student, having learned to read the work which is to be studied, -must approach it through some personal experience. The teacher who is -endeavoring to assist him must therefore discover what in the child's -range of knowledge may best serve as a point of departure. In all -education, no less than in formal argument, a start can be made only -from a point of agreement, from something as evident to the student as -it is to the instructor. Consciously or unconsciously every teacher -acts upon this principle, from the early lessons in addition which -begin with the obvious agreement produced by the sight of the blocks -or apples or beads which are before the child. In literature, too, the -fact is commonly acted upon, if not so universally formulated. If young -pupils are having "The Village Blacksmith" read to them, the teacher -instinctively starts with the fact that they may have seen a blacksmith -at work at his forge. The difficulty is that teachers who naturally do -this in simple poems fail to see that the same principle holds good of -literature of a higher order, and that the more complex the problem, -the greater the need of being sure of this beginning with some actual -experience. - -With this finding some safe and substantial foundation in the pupil's -own experience is connected the necessity of speaking of literature, -as of anything else one tries to teach, in the language of the class -addressed. Of all that we say to our pupils very little if any of all -our careful wisdom really impresses them or remains in their minds -except that portion which we have managed to phrase in terms of their -language and so to put that it appeals to emotions of their own young -lives. They can have no conception of the characters in fiction or -poetry except in so far as they are able to consider these shadows as -moving in their own world. They should be told to make up their minds -about Lady Macbeth, or Robin Hood, or Dr. Primrose as if these were -persons of their own community about whom they had learned the facts -set forth in the books read. They cannot completely realize this, but -they get hold of the fictitious character only so far as they are able -to do it. They will at least come to have a conception that people they -see in the flesh and those they meet in literature are of the same -stuff fundamentally, and should be judged by the same laws. They will -receive the benefit, moreover, whether they realize it or not, of being -helped by fiction to understand real life, and they will be in the -right way of judging books by experience. - -The principle of speaking to pupils only in the language of their own -experience is of universal application, but it is to be applied with -common sense. Nothing is more unfortunate in teaching than to have -pupils feel that they are being talked down to or that too great an -effort is being made to bring instruction to their level. A friend -once told me of a professor who in the days of the first period of -tennis enthusiasm in this country made so great an effort to take all -his illustrations from the game that the class regarded the matter a -standing joke. Yet if care be exercised it is not difficult to mix -with the childish, the familiar, and the commonplace, the dignified, -the unusual, and the suggestive. Starting with a daily experience the -teacher may go on to states of the same emotion which are far greater -and higher than can have come into the actual life of the child, but -which are imaginatively intelligible and possible because although they -differ in degree they are the same in kind. Nothing is lost of the -dignity of a play of Shakespeare's dealing with ambition if the teacher -starts with ambition to be at the head of the school, to lead the -baseball nine, or to excel in any sport; but from this the child should -be led on through whatever instances he may know in history, and in -the end made to feel that the ambition of Macbeth is an emotion he has -felt, even though it is that emotion carried to its highest terms. So -the small and the great are linked together, and the use of the little -does not appear undignified because it has been a stepping-stone to the -great. - -The aim in teaching literature is to make it a part of the student's -intimate and actual life; a warm, human, personal matter, and not a -thing taken up formally and laid aside as soon as outside pressure is -removed. To this end is the appeal made to the pupil's experience, -and to this end is he allowed to make his own estimates, to formulate -his own likes and dislikes. Any teacher, it must be remembered, is -for the scholar in the position of a special pleader. The student -regards it as part of the pedagogic duty to praise whatever is taught, -and instinctively distrusts commendation which he feels may be only -formal and official. He forms his own opinion independently or from -the judgment of his peers,—the conclusions of his classmates. He -may repeat glibly for purposes of recitation or of examination the -criticisms of the teacher, but he is likely to be little influenced -by them unless they are confirmed by the voice of his fellows and his -own taste. If young people do not reason this out, they are never -uninfluenced by it; and this condition of things must be accepted by -the teacher. - -It follows that it is practically never wise to praise a book -beforehand. The proper position in presenting to the class any work for -study is that it is something which the class are to read together with -a view of discovering what it is like. Of course the teacher assumes -that it has merit or it would not be taken up, but he also assumes -that individually the members of the class may or may not care for it. -The logical and safe method is to set the students to see if they -can discover why good judges have regarded the work as of merit. The -teacher should say in effect: "I do not know whether you will care for -this or not; but I hope you will be able to see what there is in it to -have made it notable." - -When the study of poem or play is practically over, when the pupils -have done all that can be reasonably expected of them in the way of -independent judgment, the teacher may show as many reasons for praising -it as he feels the pupils will understand. He must, however, be honest -in letting them like it or not. He must recognize that it is better -for a lad honestly to be bored by every masterpiece of literature -in existence than to stultify his mind by the reception of merely -conventional opinions got by rote. - -Much the same thing might be said of the drawing of a moral, except -that it is not easy to speak with patience of those often well-meaning -but gravely mistaken pedagogues who seem bound to impress upon -their scholars that literature is didactic. In so far as a book is -deliberately didactic, it is not literature. It may be artistic in -spite of its enforcing a deliberate lesson, but never because of this. -My own instinct would be, and I am consistent enough to make it pretty -generally my practice, to conceal from a class as well as I can any -deliberate drawing of morals into which a writer of genius may have -fallen. It is like the fault of a friend, and is to be screened from -the public as far as honesty will permit. Certainly it should never be -paraded before the young, who will not reason about the matter, but are -too wholesome by nature and too near to primitive human conditions not -to distrust an offering of intellectual jelly which obviously contains -a moral pill. - -Morals are as a rule drawn by teachers who feel that they must teach -something, and something tangible. They themselves lack the conception -of any office of art higher than moralizing, and they deal with -literature accordingly. They are unable to appreciate the fact that the -most effective influence which can be brought to bear upon the human -mind is never the direct teaching of the preacher or the moralizer, -but the indirect instruction of events and emotions. Personally I have -sufficient modesty, moreover, to make me hesitate to assume that I can -judge better than a master artist how far it is well to go in drawing -a moral. If the man of genius has chosen not to point to a deliberate -lesson, I am far from feeling inclined to take the ground that I know -better, and that the sermon should be there. When Shakespeare, or -Coleridge, or Browning feels that a vivid transcript of life should -be left to work out its own effect, far from me be the presumption to -consider the poet wrong, or to try to piece out his magnificent work -with trite moralizing. - -The tendency to abuse children with morals is as vicious as it -is widespread. It is perhaps not unconnected with the idea that -instruction and improvement must alike come through means not in -themselves enjoyable. It is the principle upon which an old New -England country wife rates the efficacy of a drug by its bitterness. -We all find it hard to realize that as far as literature, at least, is -concerned, the good it does is to be measured rather by the pleasure -it gives. If the children entirely and intelligently delight in it, we -need bother about no morals, we need—as far as the question of its -value in the training of the child's mind goes—have no concern about -examinations. Art is the ministry of joy, and literature is art or it -is the most futile and foolish thing ever introduced into the training -of the young. - - - - -VI - -PRELIMINARY WORK - - -It will not always do to plunge at once into a given piece of -literature, for often a certain amount of preliminary work is needed -to prepare the mind of the pupil to receive the effect intended by the -author. For convenience I should divide the teaching of literature into -four stages: - - Preliminary; - Inspirational; - Educational; - Examinational. - -The division is of course arbitrary, but it is after all one which -comes naturally enough in actual work. One division will not -infrequently pass into another, and no one could be so foolish as -to suppose literature is to be taught by a cut and dried mechanical -process of any sort. The division is convenient, however, at least for -purposes of discussion; and no argument should be needed to prove that -in many cases the pupil cannot even read intelligently the literature -he is supposed to study until he has had some preparatory instruction. - -The vocabulary of any particular work must first be taken into account. -We do not ask a child to read a poem until we suppose him to have by -every-day use become familiar with the common words it contains. We -should remember that the poet in writing has assumed that the reader is -equally familiar with any less common words which may be used. It is -certainly not to be held that the writer intends that in the middle of -a flowing line or at a point where the emotion is at its highest, the -reader shall be bothered by ignorance of the meaning of a term; that -he shall be obliged to turn to notes to look up definitions, shall be -plunged into a puddle of derivations, allied meanings, and parallel -passages such as are so often prepared by the ingenious editors of -school texts. These things are well enough in their place and way; but -no author ever intended his work to be read by any such process, and -since literature depends so largely on the production of a mood, such -interruptions are nothing less than fatal to the effect. - -I remember as a boy sitting at the feet of an elder sister who was -reading to me in English from a French text. At the very climax of -the tale, when the heroine was being pursued down a wild ravine by a -bandit, the reader came to an adjective which she could not translate. -With true New England conscientiousness she began to look it up in -the dictionary; but I could not bear the delay. I caught the lexicon -out of her hands, and without having even seen the French or knowing -a syllable of that language, cried out: "Oh, I know that word! It -means 'blood-boltered.' Did he catch her?" She abandoned the search, -and in all the horror of the picturesque Shakespearean epithet the -bandit dashed on, to be encountered by the hero at the next turn of -the romantic ravine. I had at the moment, so far as I can remember, -no consideration of the exact truth of my statement. I simply could -not bear that the emotion of the crisis should be interrupted by that -bothersome search for an exact equivalent. The term 'blood-boltered' -fitted the situation admirably, and I thrust it in, so that we might -hurry forward on the rushing current of excitement. This, as I -understand it, is the fashion in which children should take literature. -Few occasions, perhaps, are likely to call for epithets so lurid as -that in which Macbeth described the ghost of Banquo, but the spirit of -the thing read should so carry the reader forward that he cannot endure -interruption. - -When work must be done with glossary and notes in order that the -text may be easily and properly understood, this should be taken as -straightforward preliminary study. It should be made as agreeable -as possible, but agreeable for and in itself. When I say agreeable -for itself, I mean without especial reference to the text for which -preparation is being made. The history of words, the growth and -modification of meanings, the peculiarities and relations of speech, -may always be made attractive to an intelligent class; and since here -and throughout all study of literature students are to be made to do -as much of the actual work as possible, this part is simple. - -The amount of time given to such learning of the vocabulary might -at first seem to be an objection to the method. In the first place, -however, there is an actual economy of time in doing all this at first -and at once, thus getting it out of the way, and saving the waste -of constant interruptions in going over the text; in the second, it -affords a means of making this portion of the work actually interesting -in itself and valuable for its relation to the study of language in -general; and in the third place it both fixes meanings in mind and -allows the reading of the author with some sense of the effect he -designed to give by the words he employed. - -It is hardly necessary to say that in this matter of taking up the -vocabulary beforehand many teachers, perhaps even most teachers, will -not agree with me. The other side of the question is very well put in -a leaflet by Miss Mary E. Litchfield, published by the New England -Association of Teachers in English: - - My pupils, I find, can work longer and harder on "Macbeth" and - "Hamlet," with constantly increasing interest, than on any - other masterpieces suited to school use. Just because these - dramas are so stimulating, the pupils have the patience to - struggle with the difficulties of the text. In general they - feel only a languid interest in word-puzzles such as delight - the student of language; for instance, the expression, "He - doesn't know a hawk from a handsaw," might fail to arouse their - curiosity. But when Hamlet says: "I am but mad north-north - west: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw," - they are on the alert; they really care to know what he means - and why he has used this peculiar expression. Thus word-study - which might be mere drudgery is rendered interesting by the - human element in the play—the element which, in my opinion, - should always be kept well in the foreground. - -A large number of teachers, many of them, very likely, of experience -greater than mine, will agree with this view. I am not able to do so -because I believe we should know the language before we try to read; -but I at least hold that the first principle in any successful teaching -is that a teacher shall follow the method which he finds best adapted -to his own temperament. For the instructor who is convinced that the -habit of taking up difficulties of language as they are met in actual -reading, to take them up then is perhaps the only effective way of -doing things. It seems to me, however, a little like sacrificing the -literature to a desire to make teaching the vocabulary easier. It is -very likely a simpler way of arousing interest in difficulties of -language; but in teaching literature the elucidation of obscure words -and phrases is of interest or value simply for the sake of the effect -of the text, and I hold that to this effect, and to this effect as a -whole, everything else should be subordinate. Each teacher must decide -for himself what is the proper method, but I insist that no author -ever wrote sincerely without assuming that his vocabulary was familiar -to his audience beforehand. Certainly I am not able to feel that it -is wise to interrupt any first reading with anything save perhaps the -briefest possible explanations, comments that are so short as not to -break the flow of the work as a whole. - -The first reading of a narrative of any sort, it may surely be said, -is chiefly a matter of making the reader, and especially the childish -reader, acquainted with the story. Since little real study can be -accomplished while interest is concentrated on the plot, it may be wise -for the teacher to have a first reading without any more attention to -the difficulties of vocabulary than is absolutely needed to make the -story intelligible, and then to have the difficulties learned before -a second and more intelligent going over of the work as a whole. Each -teacher must decide a point of this sort according to individual -judgment and the character of the class. - -In all the lower grades of school work whatever literature is given to -the children should be in diction and in phrasing so simple that very -little of this sort of preliminary work need be done. So long as what -is selected has real literary excellence it can hardly be too simple. -We constantly forget, it seems to me, how simple is the world of -children. Dr. John Brown, dear and wise soul, has justly said: - - Children are long in seeing, or at least in looking at what is - above them; they like the ground, and its flowers and stones, - its "red sodgers" and lady-birds, and all its queer things; - _their world is about three feet high_, and they are more often - stooping than gazing up. - -It does not follow that children are to be fed on that sort of -water-gruel which is so often vended as "juvenile literature." They -should be given the best, the work of real writers; but of this the -simplest should be chosen, and in dealing with it the children should -not be bothered with thoughts and ideas which are over their heads. -They live, it must be remembered, in a "world about three feet high," -mentally as well as physically. - -In preliminary work the first object is to remove whatever obstacles -might hinder ease and smoothness of progress in reading. Beside having -all obscure terms understood, it is well to call attention to some of -the most striking and beautiful passages in the book or poem which -is to be read. They should be taken up as detached quotations, and -the pupils made to discover or to see how and why each is good. The -pleasure of coming upon them when the text is read helps in itself; it -diminishes the strain upon the mind of the student in the effort of -comprehension, and it doubles the effect of the portions chosen. My -idea is that many fine passages may be treated almost as a part of the -vocabulary of the text; their meaning and force may be made so evident -and so attractive that when the complete play or poem is taken up a -knowledge of these bits helps greatly in securing a strong effect of -the work as a whole. - -We teachers too often ignore, it is to be feared, the strain it is -to the young to understand and to feel at the same time. We fail to -recognize, indeed, how difficult it is for them—or for any one—to -_feel_ while the attention is taxed to take in the meaning of a thing; -so that in literary study we are likely to demand the impossible, the -responsiveness of the emotions while all the force of the child's mind -is concentrated upon the effort to comprehend. Whatever may be done -legitimately to lessen this stress is most desirable. The preparation -of the vocabulary, the elucidation of obscure passages obviously aids -in this; but so does the pointing out of beauties. Instead of being -bothered in the midst of the effort to take in a poem or a play as a -whole and being harassed by the need of mastering details of diction or -phrasing, the student has a pleasant sense of self-confidence in coming -upon obscure matters already conquered; and in the same way receives -both pleasure and a feeling of mastery in recognizing beauties already -familiar. - -The preliminary work, besides this study of any difficulties of -vocabulary, should include whatever is needful in making clear any -difference between the point of view of the work studied and that of -the child's ordinary life. - -In "The Merchant of Venice," for instance, it is necessary to make -clear the fact that the play was written for an audience to which -usury was an intolerable crime and a Jew a creature to be thoroughly -detested. The Jew-baiting of recent years in Europe helps to make -this intelligible. The point must be made, because otherwise Antonio -appears like a cad and Jessica inexcusable. The story is easily brought -home to the school-boy, moreover, by its close relation to the simplest -emotions. - -The two facts that Antonio has incurred the hatred of Shylock through -his kindness to persons in trouble and that he comes within the -range of danger through raising money to aid his friend Bassanio are -so closely allied to universal human feelings and universal human -experience that it is only needful to be sure these points are clearly -perceived to have the sympathies of the class thoroughly awakened. All -this is so obvious that it is hardly necessary to say it except for the -sake of not omitting what is of so much real importance. Every teacher -understands this and acts upon it. - -To include this in the preliminary work may seem a contradiction of -a previous statement that it is not wise to tell children what they -are expected to get from any given book. The two matters are entirely -distinct. What should be done is really that sort of giving of the -point of view which we so commonly and so naturally exercise in telling -an anecdote in conversation. "Of all conceited men I ever met," we say, -"Tom Brandywine was the worst. Why, once I saw him"—and so on for -the story which is thus declared to be an exposition of overweening -vanity. "See," we say to the class in effect, "you must have felt sorry -to see some kindly, honest fellow cheated just because he was too -honest to suspect the sneak that cheated him. Here is the story of a -great, splendid, honest Moor, a noble general and a fine leader, who -was utterly ruined and brought to his death in just that way." This is -not drawing a moral, and it seems to me entirely legitimate aid to the -student. It is less doing anything for them that they could and should -do than it is directing them so that they may advance more quickly and -in the right direction. - -This indication of the general direction in which the mind should move -in considering a work is closely connected with what might be called -establishing the proper point of departure. This is neither more nor -less than fixing the fact of common experience in the life of the pupil -at which it seems safe and wise to begin. What has been said about -the way in which a teacher calls upon the experience of the pupils to -bring home the picture of the Village Blacksmith at his forge is an -indication of what is here meant. In teaching history to-day, with -a somewhat older grade of pupils than would be reading that poem of -Longfellow's, an instructor naturally makes vivid the Massacre of St. -Bartholomew by comparison with the reports of Jewish massacres in our -own time; and in the same line the fact that it is so short a time -since the King of Servia was assassinated, or that the present Sultan -of Turkey cemented on his crown with the blood of his brothers, may -be made to assist a class to take the point of view necessary for the -realization of the tragedy in "Macbeth." I have already spoken[83:1] -of the humbler, but perhaps even more vital way in which the vice of -ambition that is so strong a motive power in that tragedy is to be -understood by starting from the rivalry in sports, since from this so -surely intelligible emotion the mind of the boy is easily led on to the -ambition which burns to rule a kingdom. It is wise not to be afraid of -the simple. If the poem to be studied is "The Ancient Mariner," it is -well to discover what is the strangest situation in which any member of -the class has ever found himself. After inciting the rest of the pupils -to imagine what must be one's feelings in such circumstances, it is not -difficult to lead them on to understand the declaration of Coleridge -that he tried to show how a man would feel if the supernatural were -actual. - -For natural, wholesome-minded children it is not in the least necessary -to take pains to reconcile them to the supernatural. To the normal -child the line between the actual and the unreal does not exist -until this has been drilled into him by adult teaching, conscious -or unconscious. The normal condition of youth is that which accepts -a fairy as simply and as unquestioningly as it accepts a tree or a -cow. Certainly it is true that children are in general ready enough -for what they would call "make-believe," that stage of half-conscious -self-deception which lies between the blessed imaginative faith of -unsophisticated childhood and the more skeptical attitude of those who -have discovered that "there isn't any Santa Claus." For all younger -classes nothing more is likely to be necessary than to assume that the -wonderful will be accepted. - -When occasion arises to justify the marvellous, the teacher may always -call attention to the fact that in poems like "The Ancient Mariner," -or "Comus," or "Macbeth" the supernatural is a part of the hypothesis. -To connect with this the pupil's conception of the part the hypothesis -plays in a proposition in geometry is at once to help to connect one -branch of study with another, always a desirable thing in education, -and to aid them in understanding why and how they are to accept the -wonders of the story entirely without question. The impossible is part -of the proposition, and this they must be made to feel before they can -be at ease with their author or get at all the proper point of view. - -The aim of literature is to arouse emotion, but we live in a realistic -age, and the youth of the present is not given to the emotional. -Youth, moreover, instinctively conceals feeling, and the lads in our -school-classes to-day are in their outside lives and indeed in most of -their school-work called upon to be as hard-headed and as unemotional -as possible. They are likely to feel that emotion is weak, that to be -moved is effeminate. They will shy at any statement that they should -feel what they read. The notion of conceiving an hypothesis helps just -here. A boy will accept—not entirely reasoning the thing out, but -really making of it an excuse to himself for being moved—the idea that -if the hypothesis were true he might feel deeply, although he assures -himself that as it is he is actually stable in a manly indifference. -The aim of the teacher is to awake feeling, but not to speak of it; to -touch the class as deeply as possible, yet not to seem aware, or at -least not to show that he is aware that the students are touched. - -In this as in all treatment of literature, any connection with the -actual life of the pupil is of the greatest value. It seems to justify -emotion, and it gives to the work of imagination a certain solidity. -Without reasoning the thing out fully, a boy of the present day is -likely to judge the importance of anything presented to him at school -by what he can see of its direct bearing upon his future work, and -especially by its relations to the material side of life. This is even -measurably true of children so young that they might be supposed still -to be ignorant of the realism of the time and of the practical side of -existence. The teacher best evades this danger by starting directly -from some thought or fact in the child's present life and from this -leading him on to the mood of the work of literature which is under -consideration. - -Here and everywhere I feel the danger of seeming to be recommending -mechanical processes for that which no mechanical process can reach. If -the teacher has a sympathetic love for literature, he will understand -that I do not and cannot mean anything of the sort; if he has not -that sympathy, he cannot treat literature otherwise than in a machine -fashion, no matter what is said. It sometimes seems that it is hardly -logical to expect every teacher to be an instructor in literature any -more than it would be to ask every teacher to take classes in music and -painting. Art requires not only knowledge but temperament; both master -and pupil must have a responsiveness to the imaginative, or little can -be accomplished. Since the exigencies of our present system, however, -require that so large a proportion of teachers shall make the attempt, -I am simply endeavoring to give practical hints which may aid in the -work; but I wish to keep plainly evident the fact that nowhere do I -mean to imply a patent process, a mechanical method, or anything which -is of value except as it is applied with a full comprehension that the -chief thing, the thing to which any method is to be at need completely -sacrificed, is to awaken appreciation and enthusiasm, to quicken the -imagination of the student, and to develop whatever natural powers he -may have for the enjoying and the loving of good books.[87:1] - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[83:1] Page 69. - -[87:1] While this volume was in press a writer in the _Monthly Review_ -(London) has remarked: "I fail to see how a literary sense can be -cultivated until a firm foundation of knowledge has been laid whereon -to build, and I tremble to think of the result of an enforced diet of -'The Canterbury Tales,' 'The Faerie Queen,' and 'Marmion' upon a class -as yet ignorant of the elements of English composition." - - - - -VII - -THE INSPIRATIONAL USE OF LITERATURE - - -The term "inspirational," which I have used as indicating the second -division of the teaching of literature, is a somewhat absurdly large -word for what is the most simple and natural part of the whole dealing -with books which goes on between teacher and pupil. It is a term, -however, which expresses pretty well what is or should be the exact -character of the study at its best. The chief effect of literature -should be to inspire, and by "inspirational," as applied to teaching, I -mean that presentation of literature which best secures this end. - -Put in simpler terms the whole matter might be expressed by saying that -the most important office of literature in the school as in life is to -minister to delight and to enthusiasm; and whoever is familiar with the -limited extent to which the required training in college requirements -or in prescribed courses fulfils this office will realize the need -which exists for the emphasizing of this view of the matter. Literature -is made a gymnasium for the training of the intellect or a treadmill -for the exercise of the memory, but it is too seldom that delight which -it must be to accomplish its highest uses. - -That the secondary schools should be chiefly concerned with this phase -of literature seems to me a truth so obvious and so indisputable that -I can see only with astonishment that it is so generally ignored. In -the lower grades, it is true, something is done in the way of letting -children enjoy literature without bothering about didactic meanings, -history of authors, philological instances, critical manipulations, and -all the devices with which later the masterpieces of genius are turned -into bugbears; but even here too many teachers feel an innate craving -to draw morals and to make poetry instructive. They seem to forget -that as children themselves they skipped the moral when they read a -story, or at best received it as an uninteresting necessity, like the -core of an apple, to be discarded when from it had been gleaned all -the sweets of the tale. Nothing is more amazing than the extent to -which all we teachers, in varying degrees, but universally, even to the -best of us, go on dealing with a sort of imaginary child which from -our own experience we know never did and never could exist. The first -great secret of all teaching is to recognize that we must deal with our -pupils as if we were dealing with our own selves at their age. If we -can accomplish this, we shall not bore them with dull moralizings under -the pretext that we are introducing them to the delights of literature. - -Where a class has to be dealt with, the work in any branch must be -adapted to the average mind, and not to the understanding of the -individual; so that in school many things are impossible which at -home, or in individual training, are not difficult. It is not hard, I -believe, to interest even the average modern boy, distracted by the -multiplicity of current impressions, in the best literature, provided -he may be taken alone and competently handled. Almost any wholesome and -sane lad may at times be found to be indifferent in class to the plays -of Shakespeare, for instance; yet I believe few healthy and fairly -intelligent boys of from ten to fifteen could resist the fascination of -the plays if these were read with them by a competent person at proper -times, and without the dilution of mental perception which necessarily -comes with the presence of classmates. Be this, however, as it may, -the teacher must be content with arousing as well as he can the spirit -of the class as a whole. Some one or two of the cleverest pupils will -lead, and may seem to represent the spirit of all; but even they are -not what they would be alone, and in any case the instructor must not -devote himself to the most clever while the rest of the pupils are -neglected. - -It follows that in the choice of pieces to be read to students the -first thing to be considered is that these shall be effective in a -broad sense so that they will appeal to the average intelligence and -taste of a given class easily and naturally. They must first of all -have that strong appeal to general human emotion which will insure a -ready response from youth not well developed æsthetically and rendered -less sensitive by being massed with other students in a class. Such -a selection is not easy, and it involves the careful study of what -may be termed the individuality of any given group of pupils; but it -seems to me to be at once one of the most obvious and one of the most -important of the points which should be considered in the beginning of -any attempt to create in school a real enjoyment in literature. - -A danger which naturally presents itself at the very outset is the -likelihood of forgetting that the possession of this easy and obvious -interest is not a sufficient reason why a work should be presented to a -class. It too often happens that the desire of arousing and interesting -pupils leads teachers to bring forward things that are sensational and -have little if any further recommendation. Doubtless Dr. Johnson was -right when he declared that "you have done a great thing when you have -brought a boy to have entertainment from a book;" yet after all the -teacher is not advancing in his task and may be doing positive harm -if he sacrifice too much to the desire to be instantly and strongly -pleasing. Flashy and unworthy books are so pressed upon the reading -public at the present day that especial care is needed to avoid -fostering the tendency to receive them in place of literature. - -It is not my purpose to give lists of selections, for in the first -place it has been done over and over, notably in such a collection as -the admirable "Heart of Oak" series; and in the second no selection -can be held to be equally adapted to different classes or to have -real value unless it has been made with a view to the actual needs of -a definite body of pupils. Pupils must be interested, yet the things -chosen to arouse their interest should be those which have not only the -superficial qualities which make an instant appeal, but possess also -those more lasting merits essential to genuine literature. - -In the lower grades it is generally, I believe, possible for the -teacher to control the choice of selections put before students, -although even here this is not always the case. If errors of selection -are made, however, they are largely due to inability to judge wisely -and to a too great deference to general literary taste. A teacher -must remember that two points are absolutely essential to any good -teaching of literature: first, that the selection be suited to the -possibilities of the individual class; second, that the teacher be -qualified so to use and present the selection as to make it effective. -Many conscientious teachers take poems which they know are regarded -as of high merit, and which have been used with advantage by other -instructors, yet which they individually, from temperament or from -training, are utterly inadequate to handle. They either lack the -insight and delight in the pieces which are essential if the pupils -are to be kindled, or are deficient in power so to present their own -appreciation and enjoyment that these appeal to the children. - -For illustration of one of the ways in which a child may be led into -the heart of a poem I have chosen "The Tiger," by William Blake. -This belongs to the class of literature constantly taken for use with -children because it is reputed to be beautiful, yet which constantly -fails in its appeal to a class. It is to me one of the most wonderful -lyrics in the language, yet I doubt if it would ever have occurred to -me to use it in our common schools, and certainly I should never have -dreamed that it was to be presented to children in the lower grades. -I do not know with what success teachers in general may have used it, -but in one or two Boston schools with which I happen to be fairly -well acquainted the effect is pretty justly represented by the mental -attitude of the small lad spoken of in the next chapter. The extent to -which children acquiesce in a sort of mechanical compliance in what to -them are the vagaries of their elders in the matter of literature can -hardly be exaggerated. Doubtless they often unconsciously gain much -of which they do not dream in the way of the development of taste and -perception, but too often the whole of the instruction given along -æsthetic lines slides over them without producing any permanent effect -of appreciable value. - -Of course I do not contend that children are not advancing unless they -know it. Early training in literature may often be of the highest value -without definite consciousness on the part of the child. Self-analysis -is no more to be expected here than anywhere else in the early stages -of training. The child does not in the least comprehend, for instance, -that the ditties of Mother Goose, meaningless jingles as they are, -are educating his sense of rhythm; he does not understand that his -imaginative powers are being nourished by the fairy-tale, the normal -mental food for a certain stage of the development of the individual as -it is the natural and inevitable product of a corresponding stage in -the development of the race. So long as a child has genuine interest -in a poem or a tale he is getting something from it, but he does not -concern himself to consider anything beyond present enjoyment. In the -earlier stages at least, and for that matter at any stage, the thing -to be secured is interest; and instruction in the lower school grades -should be confined to what is actually needed to make children enjoy a -given piece. Anything beyond this may wisely be deferred. - -In many of the lower grades it is now the fashion to have children -act out poems. The method is spoken of with satisfaction by teachers -who have tried it. I know nothing of it by experience, but should -suppose it might be good if not carried too far. Children are naturally -histrionic, and advantage may be taken of this fact to stimulate their -imagination and to quicken their responsiveness to literature, if -seriousness and sincerity are not forgotten. - -In this early work it does not seem to me that much can wisely be done -in the study of metrical effects. Indeed, I have serious doubts whether -much in the way of the examination of the technique of poetry properly -has place anywhere in preparatory schools. The child, however, should -be trained gradually to notice metrical effects, by having attention -called to passages which are especially musical or impressive. By -beginning with ringing and strongly marked verse and leading on to -effects more delicate the teacher may do much in this line. - -I have called this early work "inspirational" because it should be -directed to making literature a pleasure and an inspiration. The word, -clumsy as it may seem, does express the real function of art, and the -only function which may with any profit be considered in the earlier -stages of the "study" of literature. The object is to make the children -care for good books; to show them that poetry has a meaning for them; -and to awaken in them—although they will be far from understanding the -fact—a sensitiveness to ideals. The child will not be aware that he -is being given higher views of life, that he is being trained to some -perception of nobler aims and possibilities greater than are presented -by common experiences; but this is what is really being accomplished. -Any training which opens the eyes to the finer side of life is in the -best and truest sense inspiration; and it should be the distinct aim -of the teacher to see to it that whatever else may happen, in the -lower grades or in the higher, this chief function of the teaching of -literature shall not be lost sight of or neglected. - - - - -VIII - -AN ILLUSTRATION - - -To attempt to give a concrete illustration of the method in which any -teaching is to be carried on is in a way to try for the impossible. -Every class and every pupil must be treated according to the especial -nature of the case and the personal equation of the teacher. I perhaps -expose myself to the danger of seeming egotistic if I insert here an -experience of my own, and, what is of more consequence, I may possibly -obscure the very points I am endeavoring to make clear. As well as I -can, however, I shall set down an actual talk, in the hope that it -may afford some hint of the way in which even difficult pieces of -literature may be made to appeal to a child. Of course this is not in -the least meant as a model, but solely and simply as an illustration. - -I once asked a fine little fellow of eight what he was doing at school. -He answered—because this happened to be the task which at the moment -was most pressing—that he was committing to memory William Blake's -"Tiger." - -"Do you like it?" I asked. - -"Oh, we don't have to like it," he responded with careless frankness, -"we just have to learn it." - -The form of his reply appealed to one's sense of humor, and I wondered -how many of my own students in literature might have given answers not -dissimilar in spirit, had they not outgrown the delicious candor which -belongs to the first decade of a lad's life. The afternoon chanced to -be rainy and at my disposal. I was curious to see what I could do with -this combination of Blake and small boy, and I made the experiment. -I should not have chosen the poem for one so young; but it is real, -compact of noble imagination, the boy was evidently genuine, and a real -poem must have something for any sincere reader even if he be a child. - -The following report of our talk was not written down at the time, -and makes no pretense of being literal. It does represent, so far -as I can judge, with substantial accuracy what passed between the -straightforward lad and myself. Too deliberate and too diffuse to have -taken place in a school-room, it yet gives, on an extended scale, -what I believe is the true method of "teaching literature" in all the -secondary-school work. I do not claim to have originated or to have -discovered the method; but I hope that I may be able to make clearer -to some teachers how children may be helped to do their own thinking -and thus brought to a vital and delighted enjoyment of the masterpieces -they study. - -I began to repeat aloud the opening lines of the poem. - -"Why," said the boy, "do you know that? Did you have to learn it at -school when you were little like me?" - -"I'm not sure when I did learn it," I answered; "I've known it for a -good while; but I didn't just learn it. I like it." - -I repeated the whole poem, purposely refraining from giving it very -great force, even in the supreme symphonic outburst of the magnificent -fifth stanza: - - Tiger, tiger, burning bright - In the forests of the night, - What immortal hand or eye - Could frame thy fearful symmetry? - - In what distant deeps or skies - Burnt the fire of thine eyes? - On what wings dare he aspire? - What the hand dare seize the fire? - - And what shoulder and what art - Could twist the sinews of thy heart? - And, when thy heart began to beat, - What dread hand formed thy dread feet? - - What the hammer? what the chain? - In what furnace was thy brain? - What the anvil? what dread grasp - Dare its deadly terrors clasp? - - When the stars threw down their spears, - And watered heaven with their tears, - Did he smile His work to see? - Did he who made the lamb make thee? - -"It sounds rather pretty," I commented, as carelessly as possible. - -"Yes, I suppose so," he assented colorlessly, looking at me rather -suspiciously. - -He was a shrewd little mortal, and he had been so often told at school -that he should like this and that for which in reality he did not -care a button that he was on his guard. I made a casual remark about -something entirely unrelated to the subject. It was well that the lad -should not feel that he was being instructed. Then in a manner as -natural and easy as I could make it I asked: - -"Did you ever see a tiger?" - -"Oh, yes; I've seen lots of them at the circus. Tom Bently never went -to but one circus, but I've been to four." - -"What does a tiger look like?" I went on, ignoring the irrelevant. - -"He's a fierce-looking thing! Didn't you ever see one?" - -"Yes, I've seen them, but I wondered if they looked the same to you as -they do to me." - -"Why, how do they look to you?" - -"I asked you first. It's only fair for you to say first." - -"Well," the small boy said, with a fine show of being determined to -play fair, "I think they look like great big, big, big cats. Did you -think that?" - -"That's exactly what I should have said. They really are a sort of cat, -you know. Did you ever see a keeper stir them up?" - -"Oh, yes, sir; and they snarled like anything, and licked their lips -just like this!" - -He gave a highly gratifying imitation, and then added vivaciously: "If -I were the keeper, I'd keep stirring them up all the time. They did -look so mad!" - -"And they opened and shut their eyes slowly," I suggested, "as if -they'd like to get hold of their keeper." - -"Yes; and their eyes were just like green fire." - -"'Burning bright,'" I quoted; and then without giving the boy time to -suspect that he was being led on, I asked at once: "Did you ever see a -cat's eyes in the dark?" - -"Oh, I saw our cat once last summer, when we were in the country, under -a rosebush after dark, when Dick and I got out of the window after we'd -gone to bed. She just scared me; her eyes were just like little green -lanterns. Dick said they were like little bicycle lamps." - -"If it had been a tiger under a bush in the night,—'in the forests of -the night,'—" - -"Oh," interrupted the boy with the eagerness of a discoverer, "is that -what it means! Did he see a tiger in the night under a bush? A real, -truly tiger, all loose? I'd have run away." - -"I don't know if he ever saw one," I answered. "I rather think he -saw a tiger or a picture of one, or thought of one, and then got to -thinking how it must seem to come across one in the woods; when one was -travelling, say, in the East where tigers live wild. If you came upon -one in the forest in the dark, what do you think would be the first -thing that would tell you a tiger was near?" - -"I'd hear him." - -"Did you ever hear a cat moving about?" - -"No," the boy said doubtfully. "Aunt Katie says Spot doesn't make any -more noise than a sunbeam. Could a sunbeam make a noise?" - -"She meant that Spot didn't make any. You'd never hear a tiger coming, -for it's a kind of cat, and moves without sound. You wouldn't know that -way." - -"I'd see him." - -"In the night? You couldn't see him." - -"Yes, I could! Yes, I could!" he cried triumphantly. "I'd see his eyes -just like green fire." - -I had interested the lad and taken him far enough to feel sure he would -follow me if I helped him on a little faster. I was ready to use clear -suggestion when I felt that he would respond to it as if the thought -were his own. - -"Well," I said, "don't you see that this is just what the man who wrote -the poem meant? He got to thinking how the tiger would look in the -night to anybody that came on him in the forest and saw those eyes like -green fires shining at him out of the jungle. Don't you suppose you or -I would think they were pretty big fires if we saw them, and knew there -was a tiger behind them?" - -"I guess we should! Wooh! Do you suppose Bruno'd run?" - -Bruno was a small and silky water-spaniel, a charming beast in his -way, but not especially welcome at this point of the conversation. - -"Very likely;" I slid over the subject. "The man knew that he would -have a feeling how big and strong that tiger must be: and it gave him -a shock to think what a fearful thing the beast would be there in the -dark, with all the warm, damp smells of the plants in the air, and the -strange noises. It would almost take away his breath to think what a -mighty Being it must have taken to make anything so awful as a tiger." - -"Yes," the lad said so quietly that I let him think a little. He had -snuggled up against my knee and laid hold of my fingers, and I knew -some sense of the matter was working in him. After a moment or two I -asked him if he could repeat the first verse of the poem as if he were -the man who thought of the tiger in the jungle there, with fierce eyes -shining out of the dark, and who had so clear an idea of the mighty -creature that he couldn't help thinking what a wonderful thing it was -that it could be created. The boy fixed his eyes on mine as if he were -getting moved and half-consciously desired to be assured that I was -utterly serious and sympathetic; and in his clear childish voice he -repeated in a way that had really something of a thrill in it: - - "Tiger, tiger, burning bright - In the forests of the night, - What immortal hand or eye - Could frame thy fearful symmetry?" - -"If a traveller were in the jungle in the dark night," I went on after -a word of praise for his recitation, "I suppose he couldn't see much -around him, the trees would be so thick. He'd have to look up to the -sky to see anything but the tiger's eyes." - -"He'd see the stars there," the boy observed, just as I had hoped he -would. "I've seen stars through the trees. I was out in the woods long -after dark once." - -"Were you really? The man must have thought the stars looked like the -eyes, as if when the animal was made the Creator went to the sky itself -for that fire. Think of a Being that could rise to the very stars and -take their light in His hand." - -"Ouf!" the small man cried naïvely. "I shouldn't want to take fire in -my hand!" - -"The writer of the poem was thinking what a wonderful Being He must be -that could do it; but that if He could make a creature like the tiger, -He would be able to do anything." - -The boy reflected a moment, and then, with a frank look, asked: "Did -the fire in a tiger's eyes really come out of the stars?" - -"I don't think that the poem means that it really did," was my answer. -"I think it means that when the poet thought how wonderful a tiger is, -with the life and the fierceness shining like a flame in his eyes, -and how we cannot tell where that fire came from, and that the stars -overhead were scarcely brighter, it seemed as if that was where the -green light came from. He was trying to say how wonderful and terrible -it was to him,—especially when he thought of coming upon the beast all -alone in the forest in the night with nobody near to defend him." - -The boy was silent, and thinking hard. He had evidently not yet clearly -grasped all the idea. - -"But God didn't make a tiger on an anvil and put pieces of stars in for -eyes," he objected. - -"You told me yesterday that Bruno swims like a duck. He doesn't really, -for a duck goes on the top of the water." - -"Oh, but I meant that Bruno goes as fast as a duck." - -"And you wanted me to know how well he swims, I suppose." - -"Why, of course. Bruno can swim twice as fast as Tom Talcott's dog." - -"You said that about the duck to make me know what a wonderful swimmer -Bruno is, and the man who wrote the poem wanted you when you read it to -feel how wonderful the tiger seemed to him; its eyes as if they were of -fire brought from the stars, its strength so great that it seemed as if -his muscles had been beaten out on an anvil from red-hot steel by some -Being mighty enough to do something no man could begin to do. The poem -doesn't mean that a tiger was really made in this way; but it does mean -that when you think of the strength and fearfulness of the creature, -able to carry off a man or even a horse in its jaws, this is the best -way to give an idea of how terrible the animal seemed." - -The boy accepted this, and so we came to the fifth verse. The range -of ideas here is so much beyond the mind of any child that it was -necessary to suggest most of them, to go very slowly, and in the end -to be content with a childishly inadequate notion of the magnificent -conception. I gave frankly a suggestion of the creation of all the -animals at the beginning, and of how the angels might have stood around -like stars, watching full of interest and of kindness. The boy was -easily made to feel as if he had seen the making of the deer and the -lamb and the horse, and of how the angels might see in one or another -of the animals a help or a friend to man. - -"Then suppose," I said, "that the angels should see God make the great -tiger, royal and terrible. What would they see?" - -"Oh, a great fierce thing," the lad returned. "Do you suppose he'd jump -right at the deer and the lambs?" - -"He would make the angels think how he could. How different from the -other animals he'd be." - -"Yes, he'd have big, big, sharp teeth, and he'd lash his tail, and he'd -put out his claws. Do you suppose he'd sharpen his claws the way Muff -does on the leather chairs?" - -"Very likely he would," I said. "At any rate the angels would think -how the other animals would be torn to pieces if the tiger got hold of -them; and they would think of what would happen to men. Perhaps they -would imagine some poor Hindu woman, with her baby on her back going -through a path in the jungle, and how the tiger might leap out suddenly -and tear them both to pieces. The angels couldn't understand how God -could bear to make any animal so cruel, or how He could be willing to -have anything so wicked in the world. They would be so sorry for all -the suffering that was to come that they would throw down their spears -and not be able to keep back the tears." - -"But angels wouldn't have spears, would they?" - -I went to a shelf of the library in which we were talking and took down -a volume in which I found a picture of St. Michael in full armor. - -"It is like the fire from the stars," I said. "Of course nobody ever -saw an angel to know how he would look, but to show how strong and -powerful an angel might be, a good many men that make pictures have -painted them like knights." - -"But men that had spears wouldn't cry; I shouldn't think angels would." - -"Even the strongest men cry sometimes, my boy; only it has to be -something tremendous to make them. A thing that would make the angels -'water heaven with their tears' must be something so terrible that you -couldn't tell how sad it was." - -"Well, anyway, I'd rather be a tiger than a lamb," he proclaimed rather -unexpectedly. - -"Very likely," I assented, "but I think you'd rather have a lamb come -after Baby Lou than a tiger." - -"Oh, I wouldn't want a tiger to get Baby Lou!" he cried with a tremor. - -"I suppose that is the way the angels might feel at the idea of the -tiger's killing anybody," I rejoined. - -With a lad somewhat older one would have gone on to develop the -thought that to the watching angels the tiger, leaping out fierce -and bloodthirsty from the hand of the Creator, would be like the -incarnation of evil, and that in their weeping was represented all the -sorrowful problem of the existence of evil in the Universe; but this on -the present occasion I did not touch upon. - -"So the angels," I went on, "couldn't keep back their tears; but what -did God do?" - -"Why, He smiled!" the boy answered, evidently with astonishment at the -thought which now for the first time came home to him. "I shouldn't -think He'd have smiled." - -"When you were so disappointed the other day because the carriage was -broken and you couldn't go over to the lake in it, do you remember that -Uncle Jo laughed?" - -"Oh, he knew we could go in his automobile." - -"He knew." - -"Yes, he knew," began the boy, "and so—" He stopped, and looked at me -with a sudden soberness. "What did God know?" he asked seriously. - -"He must have known that somehow everything was right, don't you think? -He knew why He had made the tiger, just as He knew why He had made the -lamb, and so He could see that everything would be as it should be in -the end." - -"But—but—" - -The boy was speechless in face of the eternal problem, as so many -greater and wiser have been before him. It seemed to me that we had -done quite enough for once, so I broke off the talk with a suggestion -that we try the boy's favorite game. That was the end of the matter for -the time, but in the library of the lad's father the copy of Blake is -so befingered at the page on which "The Tiger" is printed that it is -evident that the boy, with the soiled fingers of his age, has turned it -often. How much he made out of the talk I cannot pretend to say, but at -least he came to love the poem. - -I said at the start that I do not give the conversation, which is -actual, as a sample, but as an illustration. The poem called for more -leading on of the pupil than would many, for as Blake is one of the -most imaginative of English writers, his conceptions are the more -subtle and profound. A class, moreover, cannot be treated always with -the same deliberation as that which is natural in the case of a single -child; but the essential principle, I believe, is the same everywhere. - - - - -IX - -EDUCATIONAL - - -Educational in the broadest sense must anything be which is -inspirational; for to interest the child in literature, to make him -enter into it as into a charming heritage, is more truly to educate -him than would be any pedantic or formal instruction whatever. I have -used the term specifically, however, as a convenient word by which -to designate that form of instruction which is more deliberately -and formally an effort to make clear what literature may be held to -teach. To regard any work of art as directly and didactically teaching -anything is perhaps to fail in so far to treat it as art; but the -point which such a consideration raises is too deep for our present -inquiry, and may be disregarded except in the case of unintelligent -attempts to make every tale or poem embody and convey a set moral. To -endeavor to aid pupils to perceive fully the relation of what they read -to themselves and to the society in which they live is part of the -legitimate work of the teacher of literature. In a word, while the term -is perhaps not the best, I have used the word educational to designate -such study as is directed to helping the student to gain from books a -wider knowledge of life and human nature. - -It is not my idea that in actual practice a formal division is -to be made, and still less that what I have called inspirational -consideration of literature is ever to be discontinued. In the growth -of a child's mind comes naturally a simple and unreflecting pleasure -in literature, beginning, as has been said, with unsophisticated -delight in the marked rhythms of Mother Goose or in the wholesome joy -of the fairy-story. To this is gradually added an equally unreflecting -absorption of certain ideas concerning life, which by slow degrees -gives place to reflection conscious and deliberate. The delight and the -unconscious yielding to the influence of the work of art remain, and to -the end they are more effective than any deliberate and conscious ideas -can be. Nothing that we teach our pupils about a poem can compare in -influence with what they absorb without realizing what they are doing. -One of the great dangers of this whole matter is that we shall hurry -them from an instinctive to a cultivated attitude toward literature; -that we shall replace natural and healthful pleasure by laborious and -conscientious study. In dealing with any piece of real literature the -wise method, it seems to me, is to take it up first for the absolute, -straightforward emotional enjoyment.[110:1] It is of very little use -to study any work which the children have not first come to care for. -After they see why a piece is worth while from the point of view of -pleasure, then study may go further and consider what is the core of -the work intellectually and emotionally. - -In speaking of treating literature educationally I do not refer to -that sort of instruction which so generally and unfortunately takes -the place of the true study of masterpieces. The history of a poem or -a drama, the biography of authors, and all work of this sort should -in any case be kept subordinate and should generally, I believe, -come after the student has at least a tolerable idea and a fair -appreciation of the writings themselves. What is important and what I -mean by the educational treatment of literature is the development of -those general truths concerning human nature and human feeling which -form the tangible thought of a play or poem. The line of distinction -between this and the less tangible ideas which are conveyed by form, -by melody, by suggestion,—the ideas, in short, which are the secret -of the inspirational effect of a work,—cannot be sharply drawn. Many -of the tangible ideas will have been obvious in the reading of which -the recognized purpose has been mere delight and inspiration; and on -the other hand the two classes of ideas are so closely interwoven that -it is not possible, even were it advisable, to separate them entirely. -It is possible, however, after the pupil has come to take pleasure in -a work,—though it should never be attempted sooner,—to go on to the -deliberate study of the intellectual content, and to take up broad and -general truths. - -One way of preparing a class for the work which is now to be done -is to speak to them of literature as a sort of high kind of algebra; -to let them see, that is, how the distinction between the great mass -of reading-matter and what is fairly to be called literature is not -unlike the difference with which they are familiar in mathematics -between arithmetic and the higher grade of work which comes after. The -newspaper, the text-book, the history, the scientific treatise all -deal with the concrete, just as arithmetic has to do with absolute -quantities. In the mental development of the pupil the time comes when -he is considered sufficiently advanced to go on from the handling of -concrete things to the dealing with the abstract. When he is able to -understand the relation between the sum paid for one bushel of wheat -and the amount needed to purchase fifty, he may be advanced to the lore -of general formulæ, and be made to understand how _x_ may represent -any price and _y_ any number of bushels. In the same way from reading -in a newspaper the story of the assassination of the late King of -Servia, the concrete case, he may go on to read "Macbeth," wherein -Duncan represents any monarch of given character, and Macbeth not a -particular, actual, concrete assassin, but a murderer of a sort, a -type, the general or abstract character. The student has gone on from -the particular to the general; from the concrete to the abstract; from -the arithmetic of human nature to its algebra. - -A similar comparison between history and poetry is on the same grounds -easily to be made between the history lesson and the chronicle plays -of Shakespeare. The student who in his nursery days started out with -the instinctive question in regard to the fairy-tale: "Is it true?" -begins to perceive the difference between literal and essential truth. -He perceives that verity in literature is not simple and obvious -fidelity to the specific fact or event; he learns to appreciate that -the truth of art, like the truth of algebra, lies in its accuracy -in representing truth in the abstract: he comes to appreciate the -narrowness of the nursery question, which asked only for the literal -fact, and he begins to comprehend something of the symbolic. - -An excellent illustration for practical use is a poem like "How they -Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix." Any live, wholesome boy is -sure to tingle with the swing and fervor of the verse, the sense of -the open air, the excitement, the doubt, the hope, the joyful climax. -It is easy to lead the class on to consider how exhilarating such an -experience would be, and to go on from this to point out that the -poem does not describe a literal, actual occurrence; but that it is a -generalized expression of the zest and exhilaration of a superb, all -but impossible ride, with the added excitement of being responsible for -the freedom or even the lives of the folk of a whole city. - -The first feeling of the class on learning that such a ride was not -taken is sure to be one of disappointment. It is better to meet -this frankly, and to compensate for it by arousing interest in the -embodiment of abstract feeling. One great source of the lack of -interest in literature at the present time is that the material, -practical character of the age makes it difficult for the general -reader to respect anything but the concrete fact. Literature is apt to -present itself to the hard-headed young fellow of the public school -as a lot of make-believe stuff, and therefore at best a matter of -rather frivolous amusement. The surest way of correcting this common -attitude of mind is to nourish the appreciation of what fact in art -really means; to cultivate a clear perception of how a poem or a tale -may be the truest thing in the world, although dealing with imaginary -personages and with incidents which never happened.[114:1] - -As an illustration of the sense in which literature is a sort of -algebra of human feeling somewhat more remote from the ordinary life -of a child may be taken another poem of Browning's, "The Lost Leader." -My experience is that most youth of the school age start out by being -able to make little or nothing of this. By a little talk, however, -beginning perhaps as simply as with the way in which a lad feels when -a school-fellow he had faith in has failed in a crisis, has for some -personal advantage gone over to the other party in a school election, -or of how the class would feel if some teacher who had been with the -students in some effort to obtain an extension of privilege to which -the scholars felt themselves to be honestly entitled had for his -own purposes swung over to the opposite side, the whole thing may be -brought home. The boys may be led on to imagine what are the feelings -of a youth eager for the cause of freedom and the uplifting of man, -when one whom he has looked to as a leader, one in whom he has had -absolute faith, deserts the rank for honors or for money. Once the -young minds are on the right track it is by no means impossible to -bring them to see pretty clearly that in the poem is not the question -of a particular man or a particular cause; but that Browning is dealing -with a universal expression of the pain that would come to any man, to -any one of them, in believing that the leader who had been most trusted -and revered had in reality been unworthy, and had betrayed the cause -his followers believed he would gladly die to defend. - -These two examples from Browning I have taken almost at random, and -not because they are unusual in this respect, for this quality is the -universal property of all real literature, and indeed is one of the -tests by which real literature is to be identified. Any selection which -it is worth while to give students at all must have this relation which -I have called "algebraic," but of which the true name is imaginative; -and it is certainly one of the important parts of anything which in a -high sense is properly to be called "teaching" literature to make the -scholars realize and appreciate this. - -The next step is more difficult because far more subtle; and I confess -frankly that it is all but impossible to propose methods by which -formal instruction may deal with it. The aim of literature is largely -the attempt to produce a mood. The prime aim of the poet is to induce -in the reader a state of feeling which will lead inevitably to the -reception of whatever he offers in the same mood in which he offers -it. In the simplest cases no instruction is needed, for even with -school-boys a ringing metre, to take a simple and obvious example, -has somewhat the same effect as the dashing swing of martial music; -whoever comes under its influence falls insensibly into the frame of -mind in which the ideas of the verse should be received. The thoughts -are accepted in the exhilarated spirit in which they were written, and -the effects of the metre are as great or greater than the influence of -the literal meaning. It is a commonplace to call attention to the part -which the melody of poetry or the rhythm of prose plays in the effect, -but how to aid pupils to a responsiveness to this language of form is -not the least of the problems of the teacher. - -The means by which an author establishes or communicates his mood -do not always appeal to the young. Indeed, beyond a certain limited -extent they appeal to most adults only after careful cultivation in the -understanding of art-language. It is as idle to suppose that literature -appeals to everybody and without æsthetic education as it is to suppose -that sculpture or music will surely meet with a response everywhere. -Nobody expects Beethoven's "Ninth Symphony" or Bach's "Passion Music" -to arouse enthusiasm in accidentally assorted school-children, yet to -all the pupils in a mixed public school are offered the parallel works -of Shakespeare and Milton. Unless a class is made up of boys or girls -with unusual aptitude or wisely and carefully trained to responsiveness -to metrical effect, it seems hardly less idle to offer them "Comus" or -"Lycidas" than it would be to expect them to enjoy a classic concert. -The language of form in the higher range of literature is to them an -unknown tongue. - -Children are likely to be susceptible to marked metrical effects, as -witness their love of "Mother Goose;" but to the more delicate music -of verse they are often largely or completely insensitive. A musical -ear is not, it is probable, to be created, but it is certainly possible -to develop the metrical sense. Children who are born with good native -responsiveness to rhythm often are so badly trained or so neglected -as to seem to have none, and it is part of the office of instruction -to call out whatever powers lie in them latent. This is largely -accomplished by the sort of use of literature which I have called -"inspirational." In the ideal home-training children are so taken -on from the rhymes of the nursery to more advanced literature that -development of the rhythmical sense is continuous and inevitable; but -one of the things which every school-teacher knows best is that this -sort of home-training is rare and the work must be done in the class. -The substitute is a poor one, but it has at least some degree of the -universal human responsiveness to rhythm to appeal to. - -Another difficulty is that children have to learn the verbal language -of literature. Much of the atmosphere of a poem, for instance, is -likely to be produced by suggestion, by the mention of legend or -tale or hero, when the reader must find in previous knowledge and -association a key to what is intended. All this is likely to be -largely or entirely lost on children; and yet this is often the -very quintessence of what the author tries to convey. Children are -constantly at the same disadvantage in understanding literature that -they are in comprehending life. They have not gathered the associations -or experienced the emotions which make so large a part of the language -of great writers. All this renders it difficult for the instructor to -be sure that his class has any inkling even of the mood in which a -piece is intended; yet he must first of all be sure that as far as is -possible he has put them, each pupil according to his character and -acquirements, in touch with the spirit of the work to be studied. - -This cannot be done entirely. We cannot hope that a lad of a dozen -years will enter into all the emotions, all the passions of the great -poets. He may, however, be absorbingly interested and thrilled by -"Macbeth," or the "Tempest," or the "Merchant of Venice." He does not -get from these plays all that his elders might get, any more than he -would perceive the full meaning and passion of a tremendous situation -in real life; but he does get some portion of the message, some -perception of the deeps and heights of human nature. Even if he find no -more than simple, unreasoning enjoyment, he is gaining unconsciously, -and he is obviously nourishing a love for good literature. - -The question of what is thoroughness in school study of literature -is of much importance, and it is of no less difficulty. Certainly -it is not merely the mastery of technical obscurities of language, -the solving of philological puzzles, or the careful examination of -historical facts. Thoroughness in these things, as has already been -said, may be exactness in learning about literature, but not in the -study of literature itself. Consideration of the average acquirements -of pupils in secondary schools makes it fairly evident, it seems to -me, that the study of technique in any of its phases cannot in these -classes be carried very far without the danger of its degenerating into -the most lifeless formalism; and perhaps in nothing else is the tact -and judgment of the teacher so well shown as in the decision how far it -is wise to carry study along particular lines. I have never encountered -a class even in my college work which I could have set to the subjects -recommended in a book for teachers of literature which advises drilling -the students of the high school on the relations in the plays of -Shakespeare "of metre to character," whatever that may mean. Neither -should I set them to distinguish, as is advised by another text-book, -between "the kinds of imagination employed: (_a_) Modifying; (_b_) -Reconstructive; (_c_) Poetical: creative, imperative, or associative." -I could not, indeed, do much with such subjects, from the simple fact -that I do not myself know what such questions mean, and still less -could I answer them. Each instructor, however, must decide for himself, -and with every class decide anew. No fixed standard can be established, -but each case must be settled on its own merits. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[110:1] The vocabulary, of course, being known before the text is -attempted. - -[114:1] See page 221. - - - - -X - -EXAMINATIONAL - - -Examinations are at present held to be an essential part of the -machinery of education, and whether we do or do not believe this to -be true, we are as teachers forced to accept them. Especially is it -incumbent on teachers in the secondary schools to pay much attention to -accustoming pupils to these ordeals and to preparing them to go through -them unscathed. Many instructors, as has been said already, become so -completely the slaves to this process that they confine their efforts -to it entirely, and few are able to prevent its taking undue importance -in their work and in the minds of their pupils. - -The general principle should be kept in mind that no examination is of -real value for itself in the training of youth, and that to study for -it directly and explicitly is fatal to all the higher uses of the study -of literature or of anything else. Tests of proficiency and advancement -are necessary, but they should be regarded as tests, and no pains -should be spared to impress upon every student the fact that beyond -this office of measuring attainment they are of no value whatever. - -Examinations exist, however, and nothing which can be done directly is -likely to remove from the minds of sub-freshmen the notion that they -study literature largely if not solely for the sake of being able to -struggle successfully with the difficulties of entrance papers. The -only means of combating this idea is the indirect method of making -the study interesting in and for itself; of nourishing a love for -great writings and fostering appreciation of masterpieces. It may be -added, moreover, that this is also the surest way of securing ease and -proficiency on just those lines in which it is the ambition of pedantic -teachers to have their pupils excel. Classes are more effectively -trained for college tests by teaching them to think, to examine for -themselves, to have real responsiveness and feeling for literature, -than they can possibly be by any drill along formal lines. Here as -pretty generally in life the indirect is the surest. - -More is done in the way of preparation for any rational examination, -I believe, by training youth to recognize good literature and to -realize what makes it good, than by any amount of deliberate drill of -especially prescribed works or laborious following out of the lines -indicated by old examination-papers. Much of this is effected by what -has been spoken of as inspirational teaching, the simple training -of children to have real enjoyment of the best. In the lower grades -of school this is all that can be profitably attempted. Before the -student leaves the secondary school, however, he should be able for -himself to make in a general way an application of the principles which -underlie literary distinctions. He should be able broadly to recognize -the qualities which belong to the best work. He should be able from -personal experience to appreciate the force of the remarks of De -Quincey: - - What is it that we mean by literature? Popularly, and amongst - the thoughtless, it is held to include everything that is - printed in a book. Little logic is required to disturb this - definition. The most thoughtless person is easily made aware - that in the idea of literature one essential element is some - relation to a general and common interest of man, so that what - applies only to a local or professional or merely personal - interest, even though presenting itself in the shape of a book, - will not belong to literature. . . . Men have so little - reflected on the higher functions of literature as to - find it a paradox if one should describe it as a mean or - subordinate purpose of books to give information. But this is - a paradox only in the sense which makes it honorable to be - paradoxical. . . . What do you learn from "Paradise Lost"? - Nothing at all. What do you learn from a cookery-book? - Something new, something you did not know before, in - every paragraph. But would you therefore put the wretched - cookery-book on a higher level of estimation than the divine - poem? What you owe to Milton is not any knowledge, of which a - million separate items are still but a million of advancing - steps on the same earthly level; what you owe is power, that - is, exercise and expansion to your own latent capacity of - sympathy with the infinite, where each pulse and each separate - influx is a step upward, a step ascending as upon a Jacob's - ladder from earth to mysterious altitudes above the earth. - All the steps of knowledge, from first to last, carry you - further on the same plane, but could never raise you one foot - above your ancient level of earth; whereas the very first step - in power is a flight, is an ascending movement into another - element where earth is forgotten.—"The Poetry of Pope." - -If a boy or girl has any vital and personal perception of the truth -which is here so eloquently set forth, this perception affords a -certain criterion by which to judge whatever work comes to hand. It -will also give both the inclination and the power to judge rightly, so -that anything which an examination-paper may legitimately ask is in so -far within the scope of ordinary thought. - -I have ventured, in another chapter, to give some idea of the way -in which I think such a work as "Macbeth" might be treated in -the secondary school. I wish to emphasize the fact that it is an -illustration and not a model. It is the way in which I should do it; -but the teaching of literature, I repeat, is naught if it is not marked -by the personality of the teacher. Of the results to be aimed at one -need not be in doubt; concerning the methods there are and there should -be as many opinions as there are sound and individual instructors. This -illustration I have included because it may serve as a sort of diagram -to make plain things which can only clumsily be presented otherwise, -and because I hope that it may be suggestive even to teachers who -differ widely from this exact method. - -What is aimed at in this manner of treating the play is primarily -the enjoyment of the pupil, secondarily the broadening of his -mind, and thirdly the training of his powers for the examinations -inevitably lying in wait for him. It may seem contradictory that I -put pleasure first and yet would begin with straightforward drill on -the vocabulary. Such training, however, is preparatory to the taking -up of literature, I believe it necessary to the best results, and -I have already said that to my mind no need exists for making this -dull. Even if it be looked upon as simple drudgery, however, I should -not shirk it. Children should be taught that they are to meet hard -work pluckily. They cannot evade the multiplication-table without -subsequent inconvenience, and the sooner they realize that this is true -in principle all through life, the better for them. Their enjoyment, -moreover, will be tenfold greater if they earn it by sturdy work. - -It would be well, I believe, if all teachers in the secondary -schools who are in the habit of concerning themselves largely with -examinations and of allowing the minds of those under them to become -fixed on these could realize that readers of blue-books are sure to -be favorably impressed by two things: by the expression of thoughts -obviously individual, and by the evidence of clear thinking. If these -two qualities characterize an examination-book, the chances of its -passing muster are so large that exact formal knowledge counts for -little in comparison. All teachers who are intelligently in earnest -try to put as little stress on examinations as is possible under -existing conditions, but not all keep clearly in mind the fact that -the best remedy for possible harm is the cultivation of the student's -individuality. - -The question of written work in preparation for entrance tests is -a difficult one, and it is one which has been largely answered by -the papers set by the colleges. It is natural that teachers who are -entirely aware that their own reputations will largely depend upon the -success of the candidates they send up should endeavor to train their -classes in the especial line of writing which seems best to suit the -ideas of examiners. The principle of selection is not, it seems to me, -a sound one, but it is inevitable. The one thing which may be done is -to make the topics selected as human and as personal as possible: to -insist that the boy or girl who is writing of Lady Macbeth or Hamlet -shall make the strongest effort possible to realize the character as -a real being; shall as far as possible take the attitude of writing -concerning some actual person about whom are known the facts set down -in the play. This is less difficult than it sounds, and while it is -never entirely possible for a child to realize Lady Macbeth as if she -were a neighbor, most children can go much farther in this direction -than is generally appreciated. - -Themes retelling the plot of novel or play are seldom satisfactory. -Satisfactorily to summarize the story of a work of any length requires -more literary grasp than can possibly be expected in a secondary -school. It is far better to set the wits of children to work to fill up -gaps of time in the stories as they are originally written; to imagine -what Macbeth and his wife had said to each other before he goes to the -chamber of Duncan in the second act, for instance, or the talk between -Silas Marner and Eppie after the visit in which Godfrey Cass disclosed -himself as the girl's father. These are not easy subjects, and it is -not to be expected that the grade of work produced will be high, but it -is at least likely to be original and genuine. - -Description is a snare into which it is easy for teacher or pupil -to fall. It generally means the more or less conscious imitation of -passages from the reading, or a sort of crazy-quilt of scraps in which -sentences of the author are clumsily pieced together. In the highest -grades good work may sometimes be obtained by asking pupils to describe -the setting of a scene in a play, but this is far too difficult for -most classes. - -Examination of character, of situations, or of motives affords the best -opportunity for written work in connection with literary study. To make -literary study subordinate to the practice of composition is manifestly -wrong, yet in many schools this is done in practice even if it is not -justified in theory. Children should be taught to write by other means -than by themes in connection with the masterpieces of literature. The -old cry against using "Paradise Lost," and the soliloquies of Hamlet -as exercises in parsing might well be repeated with added emphasis of -the modern fashion of making Shakespeare and Milton mere adjuncts to a -course in composition. The written work is, of course, to be corrected -where it is faulty, but its chief purpose should never be anything -outside of the better understanding and appreciation of the authors -read. - -In a brief, sensible pamphlet on "Methods of Teaching of Novels" May -Estelle Cook remarks: - - There is another point which I should like to make for the - study of character, though with some hesitation, since there - is room for great difference of opinion about it. It is this: - that the study of character leads directly to the exercise of - the moral instinct. Whether we like it or not, it is true that - the school-boy—even the boy, and much more the girl—will - raise the question, "Is it right?" and "Is it wrong?" and - that we must either answer or ignore these questions. My own - feeling about it is that this irrepressible moral instinct - was included by Providence partly for the purpose of making a - special diversion in favor of the English teacher. . . . A boy - will read scenes in "Macbeth" through a dozen times for the - sake of deciding whether Macbeth or Lady Macbeth was chiefly - responsible for the murder of Duncan, when he will read them - only once for the story; and this extra zeal is not so much - because he wants to satisfy a craving for facts, as because he - enjoys fixing praise or blame. . . . My experience with the Sir - Roger de Coverley papers has been that the class failed to get - any imaginative grasp of them until I frankly appealed to the - moral instinct by asking, "What did Addison mean to teach in - this paper?" "Did the Eighteenth Century need that lesson?" and - "Do we still need it?" By that process the class have finally - reached a grasp of Sir Roger which has given them fortitude to - write a theme on "Sir Roger at an Afternoon Tea." - -My own definition of imagination is evidently not that of the writer, -and I am not able to agree that this appeal to the moral instinct -develops anything other than an intellectual understanding; but that -point is unimportant here. The thing which is to be noted is that -on the moral side children may be able to think intelligently and -individually in regard to the characters and the situations of the -plays and the novels read. The teacher, in choosing such subjects for -written work, must, of course, be careful to avoid topics which have -already been considered in the book itself. In a novel by George Eliot, -for instance, all possible moral issues are likely to be so discussed -and rediscussed by the novelist as to leave little room for the -thought of the reader to exercise itself independently; but in all the -plays of Shakespeare, and in the fiction of most of the masters, the -opportunities are ample. - -The supreme test of any subject which is to be given to students in -their written work is whether it is one upon which it is reasonable -to suppose they can and will have thought which is individual and -therefore original. If it were necessary to make nice distinctions -between that which is and that which is not legitimately part of the -study of literature as an art, one must go much further than this. The -writing of themes, however, is part of the examinational side of the -work; the main thing is to be sure that it is not dwelt upon more -than is necessary, and that it is within the range of the personal -experience of the student. If teachers feel compelled to set their -classes to write formal and lifeless themes on pedantic topics such -as too often appear in examination-papers, they will do well to keep -in mind that this is not the study of literature, but a stultifying -process which lessens the power of appreciation and replaces -intelligent comprehension by mechanical imitation. - - * * * * * - -In connection with the subject of this chapter I may mention a -device which may not be without practical value in secondary-school -examinations. It affords a means of discovering how well the student -is succeeding in grasping general principles and in making actual -application of them; while at the same time it should impress upon him -the fact that he is not studying merely a series of required readings, -but the nature and qualities of literature. - -On an examination-paper in second-year English at the Institute of -Technology was put this test: - - It is assumed that the student has never read the following - extract. State what seem its excellent points (_a_) of - workmanship; (_b_) of thought; (_c_) of imagination. - -To this was added a brief extract from some standard author. - -The opening statement was made in order that the class should -understand the selection to be not from any required reading, but from -some work presumably entirely unfamiliar. The points of excellence only -were asked for in order to fix attention on merits; and indirectly -to strengthen, so far as might be, the perception of the importance -of looking in literature for merits rather than for defects. It is -undoubtedly proper that scholars should be able to perceive defects, -but this power is best trained by educating them to be sensitive and -responsive to excellencies.[131:1] - -The necessities of time made it impossible to put upon the papers of -which I am speaking extracts of much length, and the class were told -that not much was expected in comment upon the thought expressed. -The purpose of the question, that of seeing how intelligently they -were able to apply such principles as they had learned, was also -frankly put. They were warned against generalities and statements -unsupported. Then they were left to their own devices. The results -were all suggestive, and of course were of widely varying degrees of -merit. A few samples may be given, chosen, I confess, from those more -interesting. On one paper were the opening lines of the second book of -"Paradise Lost." - - High on a throne of royal state, which far - Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, - Or where the gorgeous east with richest hand - Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold, - Satan exalted sat. - -Among the comments were these: - - Of the workmanship of this selection we may say that it is - good. The selection of words is especially forcible. "Gorgeous - east" and "richest hand" are extremely so. But what I consider - a fine use of a word is the word "barbaric." Here we can see - the early inhabitants of the uncivilized rich countries of the - east; the inhabitants ignorant of the value of their wealth, - throwing it around as we would the pebbles on a beach. The - thought and the imagination are good. We can see before us the - vividly portrayed picture. There sits Satan high above his - surrounding in such rich and dazzling magnificence that it - outshines even the richest kings of the richest part of the - world. - - * * * * * - - The best point of the workmanship consists in placing the - description first and not completing the thought until the last - line; thus keeping the reader in suspense, and causing careful - attention to be put on all the sentence. The words "high," - "throne," "royal," and "exalted" combine to bring out the - thought of Satan's majesty. The thought of unbounded wealth is - brought out by the use of the word "showers" in the third line. - The author is able to give us a much more vivid idea of the - magnificence of the throne by letting us construct the throne - to suit ourselves than by giving a detailed description and - leaving nothing to the imagination. Even the materials are only - suggested, the whole idea being one of unbounded wealth and - splendor. - - * * * * * - - The choice of words is one of the best points in the - workmanship of the quotation. The arrangement also adds - emphasis. All the descriptions of the throne are so vivid that - the mind is deeply impressed by the splendor and richness of - the throne. The "gorgeous east" is very expressive of wealth - and beauty. With this arrangement of words the piece becomes - very striking and the choice of the strongest words is shown - too in touch with the whole sentence. Whereas on the other hand - if any other arrangement had been used much of the force of - these words would have been lost. The thought of the extract - is to describe the great wealth and beauty with which Satan is - surrounded. The writer must have a very vivid imagination to - describe such a scene of wealth and beauty. The first word, - "High," appeals directly to the imagination and immediately - gives the impression of power. - -These answers were written by boys who had not been called upon to do -anything of the sort before, and while their inadequacy is evident -enough, they are genuine, and are sound as far as they go. Of course, -after such a test, the first business of the teacher is to go over the -selection and to show how he would himself have answered the question. -The class is then ready to appreciate qualities which might be recited -to them in vain before they have set their minds to the problem. In -the examples I have given no one has touched, for instance, upon the -suggestiveness of the words "Ormus" and "Ind," but very little is -needed to make them see this after they have had the passage in an -examination-paper. - -A couple of examples dealing with the first two stanzas of Byron's -"Destruction of Sennacherib" may be given by way of showing how a -different selection was treated. - - The first thing I noticed in reading the extract was the - perfect rhythm. You cannot read the extract without wanting - to say it aloud. Then the choice of words struck me: "The - _sheen_ of their spears;" "when summer is _green_." It is hard - for me to distinguish workmanship, thought, and imagination. - I cannot tell whether the words and metaphors used in the - extract were the result of deliberate choice and of long - thought; but I strongly suspect that he saw the whole thing in - his imagination, and the words just came to him. It is hard - to understand how anything that reads so smoothly could have - been written with labor. The strongest point of the extract - seems to be its richness in illustration: "The Assyrian came - down like the wolf on the fold." No long, detailed description - could explain better the wildness of such an attack, the sudden - swoop of some half-barbaric horde, striking suddenly, and then - disappearing into the night. "The sheen of the spears was like - stars on the sea." The flash from a spear would be just such a - gleam as the reflected star from the crest of a wave, visible - for a moment and then gone. - - * * * * * - - Some of its excellent points of workmanship are melody and - selection of words. The melody is excellent. It has a soothing - effect when read aloud, and there is not a place where - one would hesitate in regard to the accenting of words. I - believe the melody is so good that a person only knowing the - pronunciation of the first line could almost read the rest - of it correctly because the sound of each line is so closely - connected with that of all other lines. The selection of words - is very good. There is not a place where a substitution could - be made which would improve the meaning, sense, or melody. The - extract shows great thought. In the last paragraph especially - where the Assyrians are compared to the leaves of summer and - in autumn. No better thought could bring out more clearly how - badly the host was defeated. In the first paragraph it also - compares the Assyrians to a wolf coming down upon a fold. - This again gives a definite idea, and seems to point out how - confident they were of victory. The imagination is very vivid. - You can almost think you were on the field and that all the - events were taking place before you. - -I have copied these partly to emphasize the point that it is idle to -expect too much, and partly to illustrate the form in which genuine -perception is likely to work out upon a school examination-paper. These -have not been chosen as the best papers written, but each is good -because each shows sincere opinion. - -This sort of question is of course in the line of what is constantly -done in class, but it is after all a different thing when it is made -to emphasize the idea that an examination is a test of the power to -appreciate literature instead of an exercise of memory. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[131:1] See page 205. - - - - -XI - -THE STUDY OF PROSE - - -Method in teaching is properly the adaptation of the personality of -a given teacher to the personality of a given class. It cannot be -defined by hard and fast rules, and the only value in presenting such -illustrations as the following is that they may afford hints which -teachers will be able with advantage to develop in terms of their own -individuality. The way that is wise in one is never to be set down as -the way best for another; and here as elsewhere I offer not a model -but simply an illustration. If it suggest, it has fulfilled a better -purpose than if it were taken blindly as a rigid guide. - -My own feeling would be that classes in literature should be provided -with nothing but the bare text, without notes of any kind unless with -a glossary of terms not to be found in available books of reference. -In the matter of looking up difficulties the books of reference in the -school library should be used; and if the school has no library beyond -the dictionary, I should still hold to my opinion. The vocabulary may -be very largely worked out with any fairly comprehensive dictionary, -and what cannot be discovered in this way is better taken _viva voce_ -in recitation than swallowed from notes without even the trouble of -asking. Much will be done, moreover, by the not unhealthy spirit of -emulation which is sure to exist where the pupils are set to use their -wits and to report the result in class. They will remember much better; -and, what in general education is of the very first importance, they -will have admirable practice in the use of books of reference. Many -difficulties must be explained by the teacher; but this, I insist, is -better than the following of notes, a habit which is sure to degenerate -into lifeless memorizing. The model text for school use would be -cut in those few passages not suited for the school-room, would be -clearly printed, and would be as free as possible from any outside -matter whatever. In the case of poetry the ideal method would be to -keep the text out of the hands of the student altogether until all -work necessary to the mastering of the vocabulary had been done: but -in practice such voluntary reading as a pupil chose to do beforehand -would do no harm other than possibly to distract his attention from -the learning of the meaning of words and phrases. In prose he will -generally be in a key which allows the interruption of a pause for -looking up words without much injury to the effect of the work. - -The study of prose is of course directed by the same principles as that -of poetry, but the application is in school-work somewhat modified -in details. In the first place the vocabulary of any prose used -in the schools is not likely to contain obsolete words such as are -found in Shakespeare, and in the second place the length of a novel -forbids its being read aloud in class in its entirety. I have taken my -illustrations chiefly from books included in the College Requirements, -because these books are the ones with which the majority of teachers -are obliged to work. The Sir Roger de Coverley papers are sure to -be taken up in any school-room where literature is studied to-day, -and Burke "On Conciliation" is one of the inevitable obstacles in -the way of every boy who wishes to enter college. Whatever the work, -however, the important thing is that each pupil shall understand, shall -appreciate, and shall connect what he reads with his own life. - -The order in which different works are taken up in class is a matter -of much moment. No rules can be given arbitrarily to govern the -arrangement of the readings, since much depends upon the individual -class to be dealt with. On general principles, for instance, it might -seem that Burke's "Speech," as being the least imaginative of the -prescribed work, might well come first; but on the other hand, the -argument demands intellectual capacity and maturity which will often -require that it be not put before a given group of scholars until they -have had all the training they can gain from the other requirements. -A teacher can hardly afford to have any rule in the whole treatment -of literature which is not so flexible that it may be modified or -disregarded entirely when circumstances require. The ideal method, -perhaps, would be to give a class first a few short pieces as tests, -and then to arrange their longer work upon the basis of the result. - -If the "Speech" is to be taken up first or last, it must be preceded by -a clear understanding of the history of the conditions with which Burke -dealt. This knowledge should have been obtained in the history class, -and the use of facts obtained in another branch affords one of the -opportunities for doing that useful thing which should be kept always -in sight, the enforcing of the fact that all education is one, although -for convenience of handling necessarily divided into various branches. -If the class has not had the requisite instruction in history, the -teacher of English is forced to pause and supply the deficiency, as -it is hopeless to try to go on without it. The argument of Burke is -pretty tough work for any class of high-school students, and without -familiarity with the circumstances which called it forth is utterly -unintelligible. - -The vocabulary of Burke contains few words which need to be studied -beforehand, and indeed it is perhaps better to treat the speech as -so far a logical rather than an imaginative work that without other -preparation than a thorough mastery of the circumstances under which -it was delivered and of the political issues with which it dealt the -class may be given the text directly. In the first reading the thing -to be insured is the intelligent comprehension of the language and of -the argument. In the first half-dozen paragraphs, for instance, such -passages as these must be made perfectly clear: - - I hope, Sir, that notwithstanding the austerity of the Chair, - your good nature will incline you to some degree of indulgence - toward human frailty. - - The grand penal bill. - - Returned to us from the other House. - - We are not at all embarrassed (unless we please to make - ourselves so) by any incongruous mixture of coercion and - restraint. - - From being blown about by every wind of fashionable doctrine. - -This is clear enough in meaning, but the class should notice the -suggestion of the biblical phrase which insinuates that a good deal of -the political fluctuation which has complicated the question of the -treatment of the colonies has been like the hysterical instability of -those who run after every fresh eccentricity offered in the name of -religion. - - I really did not think it safe or manly to have fresh - principles to seek upon every fresh mail that should arrive - from America. - - It is in your equity to judge. - - Parliament, having an enlarged view of objects. - - A situation which I will not miscall, which I dare not name. - - That the public tribunal (never too indulgent to a long and - unsuccessful opposition) would now scrutinize our conduct with - unusual severity. - - We must produce our hand. - - Somewhat disreputably. - -The whole oration is studded with passages such as these, and it is -the habit of too many instructors to expect the student to depend upon -notes for the solution of such difficulties. I have already indicated -that I believe this to be an unwise and weakening process; and in a -political document of this sort a drill for elucidating difficulties -may well be undertaken when in an imaginative work more latitude may be -allowed in the way of sliding over them. - -The reading of the speech as a whole could hardly be attempted with any -profit until the class has mastered its technicalities and its logic. -The oration differs in this from more imaginative literature. Here it -is not only proper but necessary to make analysis part of the first -reading. - -The class should for itself make a summary of the speech as it goes -forward. For each paragraph should be devised a single sentence which -gives clearly and concisely the thought, so that at the conclusion a -complete skeleton shall have been made. Each student should make these -sentences for himself as part of his preparation of a lesson, and from -a comparison in the class the final form may be selected. Some of the -school editions do this admirably, but one of two things seems to me -indisputable: either the "Speech" is too difficult for students to -handle or they should make their own summaries. To do this part of the -work for them is to deprive the study of its most valuable element. -The best justification such a selection can have for its inclusion -in the list of required books is that it may fairly be used for this -careful analytical work without prejudice to the effect of the piece as -a whole. In other words, no objection exists to treating this especial -selection first from the purely intellectual point of view. To consider -a play of Shakespeare first intellectually would seem to me utterly -wrong; but this argument of Burke is intentionally addressed to the -reason rather than to the imagination, and would therefore logically be -so read. - -Beside the mere interpretation of difficult passages, the pupil should -be made to discern and to weigh the value and effect of the admirable -sentences in which the orator has condensed whole trains of logic. - - The concessions of the weak are the concessions of fear. - - A wise and salutary neglect. - - The power of refusal, the first of all revenues. - - The voluntary flow of heaped-up plenty. - - All government—indeed, every human benefit and enjoyment, - every virtue and every prudent act—is founded on compromise - and barter. - -The study of phrases of this sort is admirable training for the -reasoning faculties of the scholar, it educates the powers of reading, -and it may be made a continuous lesson in the nature and value of -literary technique. Of this study of literary workmanship I shall speak -later; here it is sufficient to point the necessity at once and the -advantage of dwelling on these vital thoughts so admirably expressed. - -By the time the oration has been gone through with, and a summary of -each paragraph made in the class, a skeleton is ready from which the -argument may be considered as a whole. In some schools students will be -able to criticise from an historical point of view, and any intelligent -boy to whom the oration is given for study should be able to judge of -the logic of the plea. - -If the "Speech" is to justify its claim to being literature in the -higher sense, however, it is not possible to stop with the intellectual -study. The question of what constitutes literature is better taken up, -it seems to me, near the end of the course of secondary work, if it is -to come in at all; but preparation for dealing with that question must -come all along the line. When Burke has been studied for his political -meanings, his argument summed up and examined, the intellectual force -of the parts and of the whole sufficiently considered, then it is -necessary to look at the imaginative qualities of the work. - -I would never set children to examine any piece of prose or verse for -any qualities until I was sure they understood what they are to look -for. If they are to examine the oration for imaginative passages, -they must first know clearly what an imaginative passage is. Here the -previous training of the class is to be reckoned with. Some classes -must be taught the significance of the term "imaginative" by having -the passages pointed out to them and then analyzed; others are so far -advanced as to be able to discover them. The thing I wish to emphasize -is that when the simply intellectual study has progressed far enough, -the imaginative must follow. Passages which may be used here are such -as these: - - My plan . . . does not propose to fill your lobby with - squabbling colony agents, who will require the interposition - of your mace at every instant to keep peace among them. It - does not institute a magnificent auction of finance, where - captivated provinces come to general ransom by bidding against - each other, until you knock down the hammer, and determine a - proportion of payments beyond all powers of algebra to equalize - and settle. - - * * * * * - - Such is the strength with which population shoots in that part - of the world, that, state the numbers as high as we will, - whilst the dispute continues, the exaggeration ends. - - * * * * * - - Look at the manner in which the people of New England have of - late carried on the whale fishery. Whilst we follow them among - the tumbling mountains of ice, and behold them penetrating into - the deepest frozen recesses of Hudson Bay and Davis Strait, - whilst we are looking for them beneath the Arctic Circle, we - hear that they have pierced into the opposite region of polar - cold, that they are at the antipodes and engaged under the - frozen Serpent of the south. Falkland Island, which seemed - too remote and romantic an object for the grasp of national - ambition, is but a stage and resting-place in the progress of - their victorious industry. Nor is the equinoctial heat more - discouraging to them than the accumulated winter of both poles. - We know that while some of them draw the line and strike the - harpoon on the coast of Africa, others run the longitude and - pursue their gigantic game along the coast of Brazil. No sea - but is vexed by their fisheries. No climate that is not witness - of their toils. - - * * * * * - - A people who are still, as it were, but in the gristle, and not - yet hardened into the bone of manhood. - -Passages of this sort are frequent in the speech, and it is not -difficult to make the pupils not only recognize them, but appreciate -the quality which distinguishes them from the matter-of-fact statements -of figures, statistics, or other necessary information. - -A step further is to make the class see how the imagination shows in a -passage like the famous sentence: - - I do not know the method of drawing up an indictment against a - whole people. - -These dozen or so words may profitably be made the subject for an -entire lesson, and if this seem a proportionately extravagant amount -of time to give to a single line, I can only say that to do one thing -thoroughly is not only better than to do a score superficially, but in -the long run it is economy of time as well. If the class can be led to -discuss the meaning of the phrase, and the principles upon which Burke -rested the argument which is behind this superb proposition, not only -will the hour have been well spent in developing the ideas of the -students, but the whole oration will be wonderfully illuminated. When -to this is added an adequate understanding of the imaginative grasp -which seizes the personality of a whole nation, perceives its majesty, -its sovereignty, and the impossibility of arraigning it before the bar -like a criminal, the student is getting the best that the study of the -oration can give him. - -Written work should be kept within the limits of the capability of -the individual pupil to think intelligently. Perhaps the best means -of enforcing upon a class the vigor of Burke's style at once and the -completeness of the oration as a whole is that of requiring from each -an expression, as clear and as exact as possible, of just what the -orator wished to effect, and an estimate, as critical as the pupil is -capable of making, of how the means employed were especially adapted -to carry out his purpose. Such work will be useless if the teacher -does the reasoning, but much may be elicited by skilful leading in -recitation, and after the scholars have done all that they can do, the -instructor may add his comment. - -After the "Speech on Conciliation" may reasonably come, if the required -list of readings is being followed, the "Sir Roger de Coverley Papers." -Here one deals with work more deliberately imaginative. Preparation -for taking up these essays should begin with a brief account of the -"Spectator" and of the circumstances under which they were written. The -less elaborate this is the better, so long as it serves the purpose of -giving the class some notion of the point of view; and indeed it is to -be doubted whether as a matter of fact any great harm would be done if -even this were omitted. What is needed is to interest the class in the -work, and facts about times and circumstances seldom effect much real -good in this study. - -The vocabulary will give little trouble. It is well to be sure that -the readers understand beforehand such words as may be rather remote -from daily speech. In the account of the club (March 2, 1710-11), -for instance, the list given out for test might include such terms -as these: baronet, country-dance, shire, humor, modes, Soho-square, -quarter-sessions, game-act. In the first paragraph, from which these -words are taken, are also two or three phrases which should be familiar -before the reading is undertaken: "never dressed afterward," "in -his merry humors," "rather beloved than esteemed," and "justice of -the quorum." The historical allusions, as represented by the names -Lord Rochester, Sir George Etherege, and Dawson, go also into this -preliminary study. - -The paper should be first read as a whole, with no other interruption -than may come in the form of questions from the class. The teacher -should make no effort at anything here but intelligent reading. Then -the paper may be given out for careful study; the form of this may be -varied at the pleasure of the teacher and the needs of the class. The -presentation of character is the point to be most strongly brought -out, and this must be done delicately but as completely as possible. -The "De Coverley Papers" necessarily seem to the modern youth extremely -remote from actual life as he knows it, and the majority of Institute -students with whom I have talked admit that they found Addison very -quiet, or, in their own phrase, "slow." The characters are accordingly -apt to appear to them dim and unreal; to be hardly more alive than the -figures on an ancient tapestry. This feeling cannot be wholly overcome, -especially in the limited time which is at the command of the teacher -of school literature, yet whatever vividness of impression a reader -of the essays gets is directly proportional to the extent to which -Sir Roger and his friends emerge from the land of shadows, and seem -to the boys and girls genuine flesh and blood. The chief care of the -instructor in dealing with these papers, the aim to which everything -else should be subordinated, is to encourage and to develop the sense -of reality. The little touches by which the personality of the old -knight is shown must be dwelt upon as each appears; and in the end a -summary of these may be made as a means of stating briefly but clearly -Sir Roger's character. Constantly, too, by means homely enough to -be clearly and easily intelligible to the class, must each of these -passages be connected with the personal experiences of the children. -In the essay generally headed "Sir Roger at Home," for instance, the -author remarks: - - Sir Roger, who is very well acquainted with my humor, lets me - rise and go to bed when I please; dine at his own table, or in - my chamber, as I think fit; sit still, and say nothing, without - bidding me be merry. - -The whole situation, that of a notable man's visit to a country -squire, is utterly foreign to the pupil's probable experience. He can, -however, be made to recall occasions in which he has been considered -and his wishes consulted. He may or may not as a guest have tested -different forms of hospitality, but he easily decides how under given -circumstances he would wish to be treated. From this he is without -difficulty led to an appreciation of the consideration with which Sir -Roger was intent not upon his own wishes or the ease of his household, -but upon the pleasure of his guest. Few boys or girls can have come to -the school age without understanding what a drawback to good spirits -it is to be told to be merry, and they can appreciate the common sense -of the knight in thinking of this, and his tact in not bothering his -guest. The same thoughtful kindness is shown in the way Sir Roger -protected his lion from sightseers. Incidentally the point may be made -in passing that Addison humorously took this means of impressing on the -reader of the "Spectator" the importance of the supposed writer. - -The best preparation a teacher can make for dealing with these -essays is to get clearly into his own mind the personality, the -characteristics, even the outward appearance of each of the characters -dealt with. It is impossible to make these quiet and delicately drawn -pictures real and alive unless we have for them a genuine love and a -sense of acquaintance; and I know of no method by which in practical -work this can be communicated except by the vivifying of such passages -as that quoted above. - -Each student should bring to the class a statement of what he regards -as the chief thought in each paper as it comes up,—not the moral of -the paper, but the chief end which the writer seems to have in view, -the thought which most strongly strikes the reader. These opinions -should be talked over in class, and from them one produced which at -least the majority of the class are willing to accept. No pupil, -however, should be discouraged from holding to his own original -proposition, or from adopting a view at variance with that of the -majority. - -Always if possible,—and personally I should make it possible, even at -the sacrifice of other things,—the paper should last of all be read -as a whole without interruption. The fact should always be kept before -the minds of the pupils that the essay is not a collection of detached -facts or thoughts, but that it is a whole, and that it can fairly be -received only in its entirety. - - * * * * * - -To stretch out illustrations of the teaching of particular books would -only be tedious, and I trust I have done enough to make evident what I -believe should be the spirit of work done in the "studying" of prose -in the secondary schools. The matter is of comparative simplicity as -contrasted with the handling of poetry; and I have therefore reserved -most of my space for the latter. No one knows better than I that any -formal method is fatal to real and vital work; and what I have written -has been largely inspired by a knowledge that many instructors are at a -loss to formulate any rational method at all, while others, I am forced -sorrowfully to add, seem never even to have perceived that any method -is possible. - - - - -XII - -THE STUDY OF THE NOVEL - - -Whatever may be the entrance requirements and whatever the prescribed -course in the way of fiction, I should begin the study of the novel -with a modern book. To hold the attention of the majority of modern -children long enough for them to form any adequate idea of the quality -and characteristics of any work of the length of an ordinary novel, -long enough for them to gain an idea which conceives of the work -as a whole and not as a collection of detached scenes and scraps, -is sufficiently difficult in any case. It should not be made more -difficult by selecting as a text a book requiring effort in the -understanding of vocabulary, point of view, setting, and the rest. -"Ivanhoe" is good in its place, but it is not adapted to use as first -aid to the untrained. It is probable that a class after sufficient -experience in fiction may be able to handle "Silas Marner," and it is -apparently fated by the powers that be that they must struggle with -"The Vicar of Wakefield;" but they certainly need preliminary practice -before they are set to grapple with those fictions so remote from -their daily lives. They should begin with something as near their own -world as possible; and "Treasure Island," the scene laid in the land -of boyhood's imaginings, is an excellent example of the sort of story -which may well be used to introduce them to the serious consideration -of this branch of literature. - -A little preliminary talk may well precede the actual reading. The -teacher should be sure that the class has a fair idea of what piracy -is,—a matter generally of little difficulty,—and of the social -conditions under which the tale begins. The actual geography of the -romance need not be considered much, although students lose nothing if -they are trained to the habit of knowing accurately the location of -such real places as are named in any story; but the imaginary geography -of the tale, the topography of the island, should be well mastered. -Beyond this, the teacher should have prepared a list of words to be -learned before any reading is done. This should include all those in -the first assignment that are likely to bother the child in the first -going over of the text. In the opening chapter, for instance, such -words as these: - - Buccaneer (title of Part I). - Capstan bars. - Connoisseur. - Dry Tortugas. - Spanish Main. - Hawker. - Assizes. - -In this chapter are a couple of allusions to the costume of the time, -but as they are intelligible only when taken as sentences they may be -left for the reading in class: - - One of the cocks of his hat having fallen down. - - The neat, bright doctor, with his powder as white as snow. - -When the class comes together the vocabulary is to be taken up as a -solid and distinct task, and after that is disposed of, the text may -follow. It is generally impossible to give the time to the reading -aloud of an entire novel; but I am inclined to believe that at least -the opening chapters, the portion of the story which must be most -deliberately considered if the young reader is to go on with the tale -in full possession of the atmosphere and the characters as they are -introduced, should always be thus taken up. The portions assigned -for each lesson must be brief at first, but may wisely increase as -the interest grows and familiarity with personages and situations is -enlarged. - -The first chapter, then, having been read aloud, the class may make a -list of the characters introduced: Squire Trelawney, Dr. Livesey, the -old pirate not yet named, the father, the "I" who is telling the story. -The seaman who brings the chest and the neighbors are obviously of no -permanent importance. - -Of these characters the class should give orally so much of an -impression as they have obtained from this chapter. This is simple with -the buccaneer, fairly easy in regard to Dr. Livesey and the inn-keeper, -but more difficult in the case of the boy. The paragraph beginning: - - How that personage haunted my dreams, I need scarcely tell you— - -and the opening sentence of the following paragraph: - - But though I was so terrified by the idea of the seafaring man - with one leg, I was far less afraid of the captain himself than - anybody else who knew him— - -give admirable material for class discussion. The first should appeal -to the children, who must be made to understand that to Jim Hawkins the -one-legged seafaring man was not a mere idea, but an actual personage -for whom he was set to watch, and of whom even the terrible old Billy -Bones was mortally afraid. The second at once illustrates how the -unknown was more frightful to the lad than the veritable flesh and -blood pirate; and it shows also by excellent contrast how terrifying -the buccaneer was to the frequenters of the inn. - -For the second chapter the vocabulary would for most classes include -such words as - - Cutlass. - Talons. - Chine. - Lancet. - -The expressions which should be made clear in class would include: - - Cleared the hilt of his cutlass. - Showed a wonderfully clean pair of heels. - Fouled the tap. - Stake my wig. - Open a vein. - -This chapter has a number of delicate touches which should be brought -to the notice of the class; such as the lump in the throat of Black -Dog while he waited for the pirate in moral terror; his clever excuse -for having the door left open apparently that he might be sure Jim was -not listening, but in reality that he might have a way of escape in -case of danger; the picture of the gallows in the tattooing. - -The characters of Billy Bones and Jim are added to in the chapter, -and that of the doctor made more clear. The touch by which the boy is -made to feel compassion for the pirate when Bones turns so ghastly at -the sight of Black Dog is one which should not be missed. The story, -too, begins to develop, and the youthful reader must be unusually -insensitive if he does not speculate upon the past of Bones and upon -the relation of the pirate with Black Dog. - -It is not necessary to go on with this sort of analysis, for the method -I am detailing must be essentially that of most teachers. If the points -mentioned seem to some over-minute, I can only say that since the -aim is to teach children how to handle fiction, the task of training -them to be intelligently careful in their reading is of the first -importance. There is no risk of making them finical or too minutely -observant. This is moreover the _study_ of a novel, and it should be -more careful than reading is supposed to be. It is morally certain -that any child will fall below the standard set, and it is therefore -necessary to have the standard as high as it can be without tiring or -confusing the children. - -When the book has been gone through in this way comes the important -question of dealing with it as a whole. It would hardly be wise to ask -children directly what they think of a book as a complete work; and yet -that is the thing at which the teacher wishes to arrive. The way has -been prepared by the study of character and the discussion of incident -throughout. In the end the subject of character as it is seen from the -beginning of the tale to the close may easily lead the way to making -up some estimate of the book as a unit. First, do the persons in the -romance act consistently; second, do the incidents follow along so that -they seem really to have happened. These questions will at first have a -tendency to bewilder young readers, who are likely to accept anything -in a romance as if it were true, and to have no judgment beyond the -matter whether the book does or does not interest them. It is not to -be expected that they will go very deep or be very broad in their -dealing with such points in the case of a first novel, but they can -make a beginning. They cannot in the book in question go far in what is -the natural third question concerning a book as a whole: Does it show -clearly and truly the development of character under the circumstances -of the story. Jim Hawkins is at the end of the book manifestly older -and more manly than at the start, as shown, for instance, by his -refusal to break his word to Silver when the doctor talks with him -over the stockade and urges him to come away with him. With the other -characters it is more the bringing out of traits already existing than -the developing of new ones. John Silver is of course by far the most -masterly figure in the book—although the student should be allowed -to have his own idea in regard to this. Indeed, one of the ways in -which he judges and should judge a book as a whole is by deciding what -personage in it is, all things considered and the story taken all -through, most clearly and sharply defined. The class should be able to -see and to appreciate how the tale as it progresses brings to light one -phase after another of the amazing character of Silver, up to his pluck -at the moment when the treasure-seekers discover that the gold has been -taken away from the cache and to his humble attitude toward the Squire -when the cave of Ben Gunn is reached. - -Lastly, perhaps,—for I do not insist upon the order in which these -points should be taken up, but only give them in the sequence which to -me seems likely to be most natural and effective,—the class should -be brought to appreciate the construction of the book. This involves -obviously the way in which the author weaves together incidents so that -each shall have a part in the general scheme; but it also involves the -way in which he brings out the part that the individual traits and -character of the persons in the story had in leading up to the end. In -"Treasure Island," for instance, it is easy to show how one thing leads -to another, and how out of the chain no link could be taken without -breaking the continuity. This should not be impressed upon the class, -however, as a matter of invention on the part of the author. Children -know that the book is a fiction, but they prefer to ignore this. It is -not well to make the fact part of the instruction. The way to handle -this is to dwell upon the skill with which he has arranged particulars, -and passed in his narrative from one party to another so as to have -each incident clear. Pupils may be reminded of how easy it is to mix -the details of a story so as to confuse the hearer or the reader, and -thus may be made to appreciate to some degree the cleverness of the -workmanship which so distinguishes the work of Stevenson. - -More subtle in a way and yet not beyond the comprehension of the -school-boy is the part which character plays in shaping events and -moulding the story. The restlessness and the curiosity of Jim, from -the adventure of the apple-barrel to the saving of the ship, are -essentials in the tale; and equally the diabolical cleverness and -_unscrupulousness_ of Silver shape the events of the story from -beginning to end. - -One more illustration may be taken from the novel which is so generally -included in high-school English, Scott's "Ivanhoe." Here it is -necessary to prepare for the story by the acquirement of a certain -amount of history. It is perhaps as well to take the first five[159:1] -paragraphs of the opening chapter as a preliminary lesson, and to -treat it as history pure and simple. In preparation for this lesson the -following vocabulary should be mastered: - - Dragon of Wantley. - Wars of the Roses. - Vassalage. - Inferior gentry, or franklins. - Feudal. - The Conquest. - Duke William of Normandy. - Normans. - Anglo-Saxons. - Battle of Hastings. - Laws of the chase. - Chivalry. - Hinds. - Classical languages. - -A few other expressions, such as "petty kings," should be looked after -in the reading, lest the class get a false impression. The geography of -the river Don and of Doncaster may be passed over; but it is perhaps -better, especially in this historical preliminary, to require full -accuracy in this particular. To my thinking all this should be looked -up by the students, and never taken from notes appended to the text. - -The five paragraphs in which Scott gives the historic background -should be taken frankly as a piece of work out of which the class is -to make as clear a conception of the period of the tale as possible. -The pupils should use their common sense and their intelligence in -studying it, getting all out of it that they can get. Then it should -be read aloud in the class, and carefully gone over. The aim should be -to have understood as clearly as possible what were the political and -the social conditions of the time when the events of the romance are -represented as taking place. Such other historic personages as enter -into the story without being mentioned in this preliminary sketch -should be brought into this exposition. Thus when King Richard and -Prince John and Robin Hood the semi-historic come upon the stage the -student will be prepared for the effect which the novelist intended, -and will have, moreover, that pleasure which a young reader always -feels in finding himself equal to an occasion. - -This preliminary work being accomplished, the rest of the book will -probably have to be largely assigned for home reading. The opening -chapters, however, and the most striking scenes must certainly be read -aloud in class. A sufficient portion for a lesson will be assigned each -day. A list of words for that portion will be given out with it to be -learned first. No teacher will suppose, I fancy, that in every case a -student will master the vocabulary before he reads the selection, but -the principle is sound and the words would at least be all taken up in -class before any reading is done. Students should be told to read the -selection aloud at home, and should come to the class acquainted with -the meaning and significance of each passage, or prepared to ask about -them. - -At the beginning of the novel, when the reader is learning the -situation and the characters concerned, the assignments must be shorter -than in the latter part of the book, when these things are understood -and the current of the tale runs more swiftly. The remainder of the -first chapter, from the paragraph beginning "The sun was setting" is -quite enough for a first instalment. The following words make up the -preliminary vocabulary: - - Rites of druidical superstition. - Scrip. - Bandeau. - Harlequin. - Rational. - Quarter-staff. - Murrain. - Eumæus. - -The method of treating the fiction itself has been sufficiently -indicated in the previous illustration from "Treasure Island," but may -be briefly touched upon. In this chapter of "Ivanhoe" are introduced -two characters. Both are described at some length, but in the case of -both important touches here and there add to the impression. Gurth is -said at the beginning to be stern and sad, and in the talk the reasons -come out. - - "The mother of mischief confound the Ranger of the forest, that - cuts the foreclaws off our dogs, and makes them unfit for their - trade." - - "Little is left us but the air we breathe, and that appears - to have been reserved with much hesitation, solely for the - purpose of enabling us to endure the tasks they lay upon our - shoulders." - -We have a proof of his impulsiveness in the dangerous freedom with -which he speaks to Wamba, and of how daring this is we are made aware -when the jester says to him: - - "I know thou thinkest me a fool, or thou wouldst not be so - rash in putting thy head into my mouth. One word to Reginald - Front-de-Bœuf . . . thou wouldst waver on one of these trees - as a terror to all evil speakers against dignities." - -Of the superstition of Gurth we have proof by his fear at the mention -of the fairies. - - "Wilt thou talk of such things while a terrible storm of - thunder and lightning is raging within a few miles of us?" - -Here is a fairly satisfactory portrait of Gurth, although other traits -of character are developed as the book goes forward. At the end of -the novel the attention of the class may be directed to the skilful -way in which at the very start Scott has struck in the words of Gurth -the keynote of the oppression of the Normans and the hatred for them -in the hearts of the Saxons; but a point of this sort should not be -anticipated. It will tell for more if it is left until it has had its -full effect and its place as a part of the whole romance may be clearly -shown. - - * * * * * - -One last word I cannot bring myself to omit. I have said elsewhere that -I disbelieve in the drawing of morals, and at the risk of repetition I -wish to emphasize this in connection with fiction. The temptation here -is especially strong. It is so easy to draw a moral from any tale ever -written that two classes of teachers, those morally over-conscientious -and those ignorantly inept, are almost sure to insist that their -classes shall drag a moral lesson out of every story. The habit seems -to me thoroughly vicious. It is proper to make the character of the -persons in the novel as vivid as possible. The villain may be made -as hateful to God and to man as the testimony of the author will in -any way allow; but when that is done the children should be left to -draw their own morals. They should not even be allowed to know that -the teacher is aware that a moral may be drawn, and still less should -they be asked to discover one. If they draw a moral themselves or ask -questions about one, this is well, so long as they are sincere and -spontaneous. If they are left entirely to themselves in this they will -in a healthy natural fashion get from the story such moral instruction -as they are capable of profiting by, and they will not be put into that -antagonistic attitude which human nature inevitably takes when it is -preached to. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[159:1] Five in the original. Some school editions, for what reason I -do not know, omit paragraph five, which begins: "This state of things I -have thought it necessary to premise." - - - - -XIII - -THE STUDY OF "MACBETH" - - -How I conceive the study of poetry may be managed in school-work I have -already indicated somewhat fully, but one concrete example is often -worth a dozen abstract statements. In the literary work of almost every -high school is now included the study of at least one Shakespearean -play, and as "Macbeth" is so generally selected as the one to be first -taken up, I have chosen that as an illustration. - -The study of any play, as I have said, should begin with a requirement -that the class master the vocabulary. The pupils should be made to -understand that the need of doing this is precisely the same as the -need of learning common speech for the sake of comprehending the talk -of every-day life, or of mastering the vocabulary of French before -going to the theatre to hear a play in that language. The scholars -should be told frankly that this will not be particularly easy work, -but that it is to be taken in the same spirit that one learned the -multiplication-table. No harm can come of letting the class expect this -part of the work to be full harder than it really is, and at least it -is well to have students understand that they are expected to labor to -fit themselves for the enjoyment of literature. - -In this preparation the aim is to make it possible for the readers -to go on with the text without important interruptions. This purpose -determines what words and passages shall be taken up. Some difficulties -may safely and wisely be left for the second reading of the play, and -as it is well in these days not to expect too much of the industry -of youth, the teacher will do well to keep the list of words to be -mastered as short as may be. The whole play should be prepared for -before any of it is read, but I give only examples from the first act. -I should suggest—each teacher to vary the list at his pleasure—that -in the first act the following words should be dealt with. The numbers -of the lines are those of the Temple Edition. - -_Alarum._ This occurs in the stage-directions of scene ii. The class -will see at once that it differs from "alarm," and can be made to -appreciate how from the strong rolling of the _r_—"alarr'm" came to -this form. That the latter form is now used in the sense of a warning -sound, and especially in the sense of a sound of trumpet or drum to -announce the coming of a military body or the escort of importance -affords a good example of the manner in which synonyms are established -in the language. A quotation or two may help to fix the word in mind: - - Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings—"Richard III," - _i_, 1. - - And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love?—"Othello," - _ii_, 3. - - The dread alarum should make the earth quake to its - centre.—Hawthorne, "Old Manse." - -_Kerns and gallowglasses_, _ii_, 13. It may be enough to give simply -the fact that the first of these uncouth words means light-armed and -the second heavy-armed Irish troops. If the teacher likes, however, he -may add a brief mention of the passage from Barnabie Riche: - - The _Galloglas_ succeedeth the Horseman, and hee is commonly - armed with a skull,[167:1] a shirt of maile, and a _Galloglas_ - axe; his service in the field is neither good against horsemen, - nor able to endure an encounter of pikes, yet the Irish do - make great account of them. The _Kerne_ of Ireland are next in - request, the very drosse and scum of the countrey, a generation - of villaines not worthy to live: these be they that live by - robbing and spoiling the poor countreyman, that maketh him - many times to buy bread to give unto them, though he want - for himself and his poore children. These are they that are - ready to run out with every rebell, and these are the very - hags of hell, fit for nothing but for the gallows.—_New Irish - Prognostication._ - -_Thane_, _ii_, 45. This word may be made interesting by its close -connection with the Anglo-Saxon. _Thegan_ was originally a servant, -then technically the king's servant, and so an Anglo-Saxon nobleman and -one of the king's more immediate warriors. - -_Bellona_, _ii_, 54. The mythological allusion is of course easy to -handle. - -_Composition_, _ii_, 59. This I would include in the list chiefly to -emphasize how often a little common sense will solve what at first -sight seems a difficulty of language. "Craves composition" is so easily -connected with "composing difficulties" or any similar phrase that an -intelligent pupil can see the point if he is only alive to the force of -language. - -_Aroint_, _iii_, 6. It will interest most scholars to learn that this -word—except for modern imitations—is found only in Shakespeare, -and in him but twice, both times in the phrase "Aroint thee, witch" -(the second instance, "Lear," _iii_, 4). They will be at least amused -by the possibility of its being derived from a dialect word given -in the Cheshire proverb quoted by an old author named Ray in 1693, -and probably in use in the time of Shakespeare: "'Rynt you, witch,' -quoth Bessie Locket to her mother;" and in the speculation whether -the dramatist himself made the word. The curious derivation of the -term from rauntree or rantry, the old form of rowan, or mountain-ash, -is sure to appeal to children who have seen the rowan ripening its -red berries. The mountain-ash, or the "quicken," as it is called in -Ireland, is one of the most famous trees in Irish tradition, and is -sacred to the "Gentle People," the fairies. It was of old regarded as a -sure defence against witches, and the theory of some scholars is that -the original form of the exclamation given by Shakespeare was "I've a -rauntree, witch," "I've a rowan-tree, witch." All that it is necessary -for the reader to know is that the word is evidently a warning to the -witch to depart; but there can be no objection to introducing into -this preliminary study of the vocabulary matter which is likely to -arrest attention and to fix meanings in the mind. - -_Rump-fed ronyon_, _iii_, 6. It is hardly worth while to do more with -this than to have it understood that "ronyon" is a term of contempt, -meaning scabby or something of the sort, and that "rump-fed," while it -may refer to the fact that kidneys, rumps, and scraps were perquisites -of the cook or given to beggars, probably indicates nothing more than a -plump, over-fed woman. - -_Pent-house lid_, _iii_, 20. A pent-house is from the dictionary found -to be a sloping roof projecting from a wall over a door or window; and -from this to the comparison with the eyebrow is an easy step. That the -simile was common in the sixteenth century may be shown by numerous -quotations, as, for instance, the passage in Thomas Decker's "Gull's -Horne-book," 1609: - - The two eyes are the glasse windows, at which light disperses - itself into every roome, having goodlie pent-houses of hair to - overshadow them. - -In the second chapter of "Ivanhoe": - - Had there not lurked under the pent-house of his eye that sly - epicurean twinkle. - -And so on down to our own time, when Tennyson, in "Merlin and Vivian," -writes: - - He dragged his eyebrow bushes down, and made - A snowy pent-house for his hollow eyes. - -_Insane root_, _iii_, 84. In Plutarch's "Lives," which in the famous -translation of North was familiar to Shakespeare and from which he took -material for his plays, we are told that the soldiers of Anthony in the -Parthian war were forced by lack of provisions to "taste of roots that -were never eaten before; among which was one that killed them, and made -them out of their wits." Any intelligent student would be likely to -understand the force of this phrase from the context, but it is well to -speak of it beforehand to avoid distraction of the attention in reading. - -_Coign_, _vi_, 7. "Jutty," from our common use of the verb "to jut," -carries its own meaning, and the use of the word "coign" in this -passage is given in the "Century Dictionary." - -_Sewer_, _vii_, _stage-directions_. The derivation and the meaning are -also given in the "Century Dictionary," with illustrative quotations. - -So far for single words which would be likely to bother the ordinary -student in reading. The list might be extended by individual teachers -to fit individual cases, and such words included as choppy, _iii_, 44; -blasted, _iii_, 77; procreant, _vi_, 8; harbinger, _iv_, 45; flourish, -_iv_, _end_; martlet, _vi_, 4; God 'ield, _vi_, 13; trammel up, _vii_, -3; limbec, _vii_, 67. It is well, however, not to make the list longer -than is absolute necessary; and as the vocabulary of the whole play is -to be taken up, it is better to trust to the general intelligence of -the class as far as possible. - - -II - -These doubtful or obsolete words having been mastered by the class, -and the lines in which they occur used as illustrations of their use, -the next matter is to take up obscure passages. These may be blind -from unusual use of familiar words or from some other cause. Where -the difficulty is a matter of diction it is hardly worth while to -make further division into groups, and in the first act the following -passages may be given to the students to study out for themselves if -possible, or to have explained by the teacher if necessary: - - Say to the king _the knowledge of the broil_ - As thou did leave it.—_ii_, 6. - - * * * * * - - For brave Macbeth—well he deserves that name— - _Disdaining fortune_, with his brandished steel - Which smoked with _bloody execution_, - Like _valour's minion_ carved out his passage - Till he faced the slave; - Which ne'er shook hands, nor bid farewell to him, - Till he _unseam'd him from the nave to chaps_, - And fix'd his head upon our battlements.—_ii_, 16-23. - - * * * * * - - Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds, - Or _memorize another Golgotha_, - I cannot tell.—_ii_, 39-41. - - * * * * * - - Till that _Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof, - Confronted him with self-comparisons, - Point against point rebellious_, arm 'gainst arm, - Curbing his lavish spirit.—_ii_, 54-57. - - * * * * * - - He shall live a man _forbid_.—_iii_, 21. - - * * * * * - - The weird sisters, hand in hand, - _Posters_ of the sea and land.—_iii_, 32, 33. - - * * * * * - - Art not without ambition, but without - _The illness should attend it_.—_v_, 20-21. - - * * * * * - - All that impedes thee from the _golden round_ - That fate and _metaphysical aid_ doth seem - To have thee crowned withal.—_v_, 30-31. - - * * * * * - - To _beguile_ the time - Look like the time.—_vi_, 63. - - * * * * * - - —Those honors deep and broad wherewith - Your majesty loads our house: for those of old - And the late dignities heap'd up to them - We rest your _hermits_.—_vi_, 16-20. - - * * * * * - - This Duncan - Hath borne his _faculties_ so meek.—_vii_, 16-17. - - * * * * * - - What cannot you and I perform upon - The unguarded Duncan? what not put upon - His _spongy_ officers, who shall bear the guilt - Of our great _quell_.—_vii_, 69-72. - -This list again may be made longer or shorter, with the same proviso -as before, that it be not unnecessarily distended. Phrases like -"craves composition" and "insane root," which I have put into the -first section, may be grouped here if it seems better. I have not felt -it needful to indicate the way in which the meaning of these obscure -passages is to be brought out, for the method would be essentially the -same as that taken to interest the class in the vocabulary of detached -words. - - -III - -Passages possibly obscure from the thought may for the most part be -left for the later study of the play in detail. A few of them it is -well to take up for the simple purpose of training the student in -poetic language, and some need to be understood for the sake of the -first general effect. In the first act of "Macbeth" the passages which -it is actually necessary to examine are few, but the list may be made -long or short at the pleasure of the teacher. The following may serve -as examples: - - The merciless Macdonwald— - Worthy to be a rebel, for to that - The multiplying villainies of nature - Do swarm upon him.—_ii_, 9-12. - - * * * * * - - As whence the sun 'gins his reflection - Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break, - So from that spring whence comfort seem'd to come - Discomfort swells.—_ii_, 25-28. - - * * * * * - - But thither in a sieve I'll sail, - And like a rat without a tail, - I'll do, I'll do and I'll do.—_iii_, 8-10. - -This passage is a good example of what may be passed over in the first -reading, yet which if understood adds greatly to the force of the -effect. If the scholar knows that according to the old superstition a -witch could take the form of an animal but could be identified by the -fact that the tail was wanting, the idea of the hag's flying through -the air on the wind to the tempest-tossed vessel bound for Aleppo, -and on it taking the form of a tailless rat to gnaw, and gnaw, and -gnaw till the ship springs a leak, is sure to appeal to the youthful -imagination. - - My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, - Shakes so my single state of man that function - Is smothered in surmise, and nothing is - But what is not.—_iii_, 139-142. - -This is one of those passages which is sure to puzzle the ordinary -school-boy, although a little help will enable him to understand it, -and to see how natural under the circumstances is the state of mind -which it paints. The murder is as yet only imagined (fantastical), -and yet the thought of it so shakes Macbeth's individual (single) -consciousness (state of man) that the ordinary functions of the mind -are lost in confused surmises of what may come as the consequences of -the deed; until to his excited fancy nothing seems real (is) but what -the dreadful surmise paints, although that does not yet exist. - - Your servants ever - Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs, in compt - To make their audit to your highness' pleasure, - Still to return your own.—_vi_, 25-28. - - * * * * * - - His two chamberlains - Will I with wine and wassail so convince, - That memory, the warder of the brain, - Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason - A limbec only.—_vii_, 63-67. - -The whole of Macbeth's soliloquy at the beginning of scene _vii_ is a -case in point. It may be taken up here, but to my thinking is better -treated after the class is familiar with the circumstances under which -it is spoken. - - -IV - -The taking up of especially striking passages beforehand may be omitted -altogether, although what I consider the possible advantages I have -already indicated.[175:1] Perhaps the better plan is to do this after -the first reading of the play, and before the second reading prepares -the way for detailed study. The sort of passage I have in mind is -indicated by the following examples: - - If you can look into the seeds of time, - And say which grain will grow and which will not.—_iii_, 58-59. - -The attention of the pupils may be called to the especial force and -fitness of the image. The impossibility of telling from the appearance -of a seed whether it will grow or what will spring from it makes very -striking this comparison of events to them, so unable are we to say -which of these "seeds of time" will produce important results and which -will show no more growth than a seed unsprouting. - - _Dun._ This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air - Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself - Unto our gentle senses. - - _Ban._ This guest of summer, - The temple-haunting martlet, does approve - By his loved mansionry that the heaven's breath - Smells wooingly here.—_vi_, 1-7. - -This is not only charming as poetry, but it is excellent as a help to -train the class to appreciative reading by attention to significant -details. "Nimbly,"—with a light, quick motion,—the air "recommends -itself,"—comes upon us in a way which makes us appreciate its -goodness,—unto our "gentle,"—delicate, capable of perceiving subtle -qualities,—senses. In the reply of Banquo the use of "guest," one -favored and invited, of "temple-haunting," conveying the idea of one -frequenting places consecrated and revered, of "loved mansionry," -dwellings which the eye loves to recognize, all help to strengthen the -impression, and to give the feeling to the mind which we might have -from watching the flight of the slim, glossy swallows flitting about -their nests. - -It is not necessary to multiply examples, since each teacher will -have his personal preferences for striking passages; and since many -will probably prefer to leave this whole matter to be taken up in the -reading. - - -V - -The first reading of a play, whether it come before or after the -mastering of the vocabulary, should be unbroken except by the pauses -necessary between consecutive recitations, and must above everything be -clear and intelligible. In all but the most exceptional circumstances -it should be done by the teacher, the class following the text in -books of their own. No teacher who cannot read well has any business -to attempt to teach literature at all, for reading aloud is the most -effective of all means to be used in the study. This does not mean that -the reading should be over-dramatic, and still less that it should be -what is popularly known as "elocutionary;" but it does mean that it -shall be agreeable, intelligent, and sympathetic. The teacher must -both understand and feel the work, and must be trained to convey both -comprehension and emotion through the voice. The pupils will from a -first reading get chiefly the plot, but they may also be unconsciously -prepared for the more important knowledge of character which is -naturally the next step in the process of studying the drama. - -As preparation for the first reading of "Macbeth" little is needed in -the way of general explanation. The discussion of the supernatural -element, of the responsibility of the characters, and of the central -thought of the play, may safely be left for later study. Young people -will respond to the direct story, and it is not unwise to let the -plot produce its full effect as simple narrative. It is well to state -beforehand how it comes that the kingship does not necessarily go by -immediate descent, and so to make it evident how Macbeth secured the -throne; it may be well also to comment briefly on the state of society -in which crime was more possible than now; but beyond this the play may -be left to tell its own tale. - -In this first reading the teacher will do well to indicate such points -of stage-setting as are not evident, and such stage "business" as is -necessary to the understanding of the scene. It is as well, however, -not to give too much stress to this. To follow the play of emotions -is with children instinctive, and this they will do without dwelling -on the details of the scene too closely in a material sense. At least -a very little aid will be sufficient at this stage. In a subsequent -reading these matters may be more fully brought out, although I am -convinced that even then it is easy to overdo the insisting upon aids -to visualization. - -What may be done and should not be omitted is the interspersion in -passing of comments so brief that they do not interrupt, yet which -throw light upon meanings which might otherwise be likely to pass -unnoticed. Nothing should be touched upon in this way which is so -complicated as to require more than a word or two to make it plain. -What I mean is illustrated by these examples: - - I come Graymalkin. - Paddock calls.—_i_, 9, 10. - -The voice in reading conveys the idea that the witches speak to -familiar spirits in the air, but it is well to state that fact -explicitly. - - What, can the devil speak true?—_iii_, 107. - -Banquo thinks instantly of the word of the witches, - - Glamis, and thane of Cawdor, etc.—_iii_, 111-119. - -In these lines and in 126-147, it is of so much importance that the -distinction between the asides and the direct speech be appreciated -that it may be well to call attention to the changes. - - Cousins, a word, I pray you.—_iii_, 126. - -Banquo draws the others aside, probably to tell them of the prediction -by the witches of the news they have brought, and this gives Macbeth a -moment by himself to think of the strangeness of it. - - Think upon what hath chanced.—_iii_, 153. - -This is said, of course, to Banquo. - - We will establish our estate upon - Our eldest son, Malcolm.—_iv_, 37. - -Here the conditions of succession already spoken of may be alluded -to, and the fact noted that if Macbeth had entertained any hopes of -succeeding Duncan legitimately, these were now dispelled. - - And when goes hence?—_v_, 60. - -The sinister suggestion of this may well be emphasized by calling -attention to it. - - By your leave, hostess.—_vi_, 31. - -With these words Duncan, who has taken the hand of Lady Macbeth, turns -to lead her in. - - -VI - -Once the play has been read as a whole the way has been prepared for -more careful attention to details. For each recitation the parts should -be assigned beforehand for oral reading, three or four pupils being -assigned to each part so that in a long scene opportunity is given for -bringing a number of the students to their feet.[180:1] It is well -to prepare for this second reading by selecting the central motive of -the play, and having the class discuss it. In the case of "Macbeth" it -is easy to select ambition as the main thread. In some plays a single -passion or emotion is not so easily detached, but it is generally -needful to remember that if children are to be impressed and are to -see things clearly, they must be dealt with simply; so that even at -the expense of slighting for the time being some of the strands it is -well to keep to the principle of naming one and holding to it with -straightforwardness until the work is tolerably familiar. - -The children should be made to say—not to write, for contagion of -ideas is of the greatest importance here—what they understand by -ambition, how far they have noticed it in others, and perhaps how far -felt it themselves. A wise teacher should have little difficulty in -making such a talk personal enough to enforce the idea without letting -it become too intimate. It can be brought out that the test of ambition -is the extent of the sacrifices one is willing to make to gratify -it. The ambition already spoken of to excel in class, to be at the -head of the school baseball nine or football team, to be popular with -friends, and so on for the common ambitions of life may seem trifling, -but it belongs to the language of the child's life. Here and there -the teacher finds pupils who might seize the conception of ambition -without starting so near the rudiments, but most need it; I am unable -to see how any can be hurt by it. It is much more difficult to get a -conception vividly into the minds of twenty pupils together than it is -to impress the same thing upon a hundred separately, and I should never -feel that I could afford to neglect the humblest means which might be -serviceable. The talk, moreover, does not stop here. It is to be led on -to what the boys and girls would wish to be in the world; and from this -to historic instances of what men have done to gratify their ambitions. -The assassination of the late King of Servia is still so recent as -to seem much more real than murders farther back in history, and it -lends itself well to the effort to make vital the tragedy that is -being studied. I am not for an instant urging that literature shall be -treated in too realistic a manner, as I hope to show before I conclude; -but I do not feel that there is any fear of making it too real to the -boys and girls with whom one must deal to-day in our schools. - -It is perhaps well, too, that some comment should be made at this stage -on the supernatural element. A class is likely to have had geometry by -the time it has come to the study of Shakespeare, and most children can -with very little difficulty be made to understand that in "Macbeth" -and "The Ancient Mariner" the existence of the supernatural is the -hypothesis upon which the work proceeds. When this is understood it is -not amiss to develop the idea that Shakespeare perhaps introduced the -witches as a way of showing how evil thoughts and desires spring up in -the heart. The class will easily see that the ideas of ambition, of -the possibility of gaining the crown, which little by little grew in -the heart of Macbeth can be better shown to an audience by putting the -words into the mouths of the witches than by means of soliloquies. This -giving of reasons why the dramatist does one thing or another should -not be pressed too far and should be touched upon with caution. It is -often better to let a detail go unremarked than to run the risk of -confusing the mind of the pupil. The witches, however, are almost sure -to be remarked upon, and they must be considered frankly. - -In this second reading such obscure passages as have been glided over -before are to be taken into consideration. If the pupils have, as -they should have, texts unencumbered with notes, they may be given a -scene or two at a time, and told to use their wits in elucidating the -difficulties. Often they show surprising intelligence in this line, -and the bestowal of praise where it is deserved is one of the most -effective as well as one of the pleasantest parts of the whole process. -What they cannot elucidate alone, they may be if possible helped to -work out in class, or, if this fails, may be told outright. If they -have tried to arrive at the true meaning, they are in a condition when -an explanation will have its best and fullest effect. - -Passages in the first act of "Macbeth" which I have thus far passed -over deliberately, to the end that the pupil be not bothered over too -many difficulties at once, are such as these: - - Fair is foul, and foul is fair,—_i_, 11. - - Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky - And fan our people cold.—_ii_, 49, 50. - - Nor would we deign him burial of his men - Till he disbursed, at Saint Colme's inch.—_ii_, 59, 60. - - Ten thousand dollars.—_ii_, 62. - -If, as is likely to be the case, the greater part or all of the class -have passed the word "dollars" without notice, that fact serves to -illustrate the need of care in reading. That they should pass it, -moreover, illustrates also how the anachronism might pass unnoticed -in Shakespeare's time, when historical accuracy was the last thing -about which a playwright bothered his head. The teacher may well here -refer back to the idea of considering literature as the algebra of the -emotions, and remind the class that as the poet was not endeavoring -to write history or to tell what happened in a concrete instance, but -only to represent the abstract principle of such a situation as that in -which Macbeth and his wife were involved, a departure from historical -accuracy is of no importance so long as it does not disturb the effect -on the mind of the audience or reader. - - No more that thane of Cawdor shall receive - Our bosom interest.—_ii_, 63, 64. - - I'll give thee a wind.—_iii_, 11. - -The supposed power of the witches to control the winds and the -superstitions of the sailors about buying favorable weather from them -may be taken up in the first reading; but it seems better to leave it -for the time when the effect of the play as a whole has been secured, -and the interruption will be less objectionable. - - His wonders and his praises do contend - Which should be thine or his: silenced with that.—_iii_, 63. - - That, trusted home.—_iii_, 120. - - Poor and single business.—_vi_, 16. - - Like the poor cat i' the adage.—_vii_, 45. - -It is not necessary to continue this list. Its length is decided by the -one fixed principle to which is no exception: it is too long the moment -the teacher fails to hold the interest of the class in the work which -is being done. No amount of information acquired or skill in passing -examinations can compensate for the harm done by associating the plays -of Shakespeare in the minds of the student with the idea of dulness or -boredom. - -Textual explanation, however, is of small importance as compared to an -intelligent grasp of the office and effect of each incident and each -scene in the development of the story and of the characters of the -actors in the tragedy. At the end of each scene, or for that matter -at any point which seems well to the instructor, the students should -in this second reading be called upon to comment orally on what has -been done in the play and what has been shown. I have much more faith -in the genuineness of what a boy says on his feet in the class room -than in what he may write at home. A teacher with the gentlest hint may -at once stop humbug and conventionality when it is spoken, but when -stock phrases, conventional opinions, views imperfectly remembered or -consciously borrowed from somebody's notes have been neatly copied out -in a theme, no amount of red ink corrects the evil that has been done. -The important thing is to get an appreciation, no matter how limited or -imperfect it may be, which is yet genuine and intelligent. - -With the matter of disputed readings, I may say in parenthesis, the -teacher in the secondary school has no more to do than to answer doubts -which may arise in the minds of the pupils. Personally I should offer -to the consideration of the class the conjectural reading of the line - - Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself.—_vii_, 27. - Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps its selle (saddle); - -because it seems to me so plausible and because it is likely to commend -itself. For the most part, however, I should let sleeping dogs lie, and -if nobody noticed the possible confusion of the text, I would not risk -confusion of mind by calling attention to it. - -The personal opinions of the class upon the actions and the acts of -the characters are not difficult to get at in this way, and often will -be the more fully shaped and more clearly thought out if the pupil is -constrained to defend an unpopular view. I am not introducing anything -new, for this sort of discussion is carried on by every intelligent -teacher; it is mentioned here only for the sake of completeness in the -process of treating a play in the class-room. - - -VII - -It may seem superfluous to some teachers to end the study as it began, -by a complete, uninterrupted reading of the whole. It is possible that -sometimes it would weary a class already weary of going over the same -ground; but if so the class has been on the wrong tack throughout. I -make the suggestion, however, in confidence that the effect will be -good, and that the students will enjoy this review. Whether the reading -is done by teacher or pupils depends somewhat upon circumstances; but -it should certainly be by the pupils if possible. - - -VIII - -I have carefully and intentionally omitted all mention of the study of -the sources of the plot, the probable date of the play, and things of -that sort which interest thorough Shakespearean scholars, and which -are the chosen subjects of pedantic formalists. Metrical effects and -subtilties are beyond any pupils I have ever encountered in secondary -schools. I do not believe that students in the secondary schools should -be troubled with any study of this sort. The teacher should of course -be prepared briefly to answer any questions of this nature which are -put, and to show the pupils where in books of reference information -may be found. The great principle is, however, to include in the study -nothing which does not enhance the impression of the play as a work of -imaginative literature, and to omit everything which can possibly be -spared without endangering this general effect. - -The danger of overshadowing literary study with irrelevant information -is great and constant. The amount of special knowledge which a child -must acquire to appreciate a play of Shakespeare's is unhappily large -in any case; and the constant aim of the teacher should be to reduce -this to a minimum. It is far better that a pupil go through the work -with imaginative delight and fail to get the exact meaning of half -the obscure passages than that he be bored and wearied by an exact -explanation of all of them at the expense of the inspiration of the -work as a whole. My painful doubts of the wisdom of our present scheme -of insisting upon the study of literature in the common schools arises -largely from the unhappy necessity of having so much explained and -the too common lack of courage to do a sufficient amount of judicious -ignoring of difficulties. - - -IX - -I cannot shirk entirely, as I should be glad to do, the question of -written work on the play we have been considering.[188:1] It is a -thousand pities that children must be required to write anything about -"Macbeth" when they have read it; but it is evident that under existing -conditions they will be required to produce something on paper. In -regard to this I must repeat that they should never be asked to write -as exercises in composition. Everything that a child writes is, in -one sense, a rhetorical exercise, but the teacher should impress it -upon the class that here the chief aim is to get an expression of the -child's thought. The more completely the children can be made to feel -that this is not a "composition," but a statement of impressions, of -personal tastes, and of opinions, the better. - -What subjects are suited for written work is a matter which must be -decided by each teacher according to the dispositions, the knowledge, -the aptitude shown by the scholars in a particular class. It will -inevitably be influenced largely by examination-papers; and in the -face of the lists of subjects provided by these it is idle to offer -any particular suggestions. In general the test of a subject, so far -as real benefit is concerned, is whether it is one upon which the -student may fairly be expected to be able to feel and to reason in -terms of his own experience. A subject is suited to his needs so long, -and so long only, as he is able to consider it as a matter which might -concern him personally. He may think crudely and he must of course -think inadequately; but he should at least think sincerely and without -regard to what somebody else has thought before him. He should be -original in the sense that he is putting down his own impressions, is -writing thoughts which have not been gathered from books, but have been -come at by considering the play in the light of whatever knowledge he -personally has of life and human nature. - -Much may depend, it is worth remarking, upon the way a subject for -theme-work is given out. Phrases count greatly in all human affairs, -but especially in the development of children. Adults are supposed -to understand words so readily as to be free from the danger of -receiving wrong impressions from phraseology which is unfamiliar; but -whether this be true or not, certain it is that the young are often -bewildered by words and queerly affected by turns of language. The same -theme-subject may be hopelessly incomprehensible or at least unhappily -remote when stated in one way, while in another wording it is entirely -possible. The first essential is to make clear beyond all possibility -of doubt what is required, and this is to be accomplished only by using -language which the student understands. The teacher must here as in -all instruction keep constantly in mind that language that is clear -and familiar to him may be nothing less than cryptic to the class. I -remember a lad in a country school who was hopelessly bewildered when -confronted with the subject given out by his teacher: "What Character -in this Book Appeals to You Most, and on what Grounds?" yet who wrote -easily enough a very respectable theme when I said: "She only wants -you to pick out the person in the book you like best, and tell why you -like him." "Oh, is that all?" he said at first incredulously. "But that -isn't saying anything about grounds." The incident, absurd as it is, is -really typical. - -I have usually found that the word "compare" will reduce most students -to mere memories, as they strive almost mechanically to reproduce -things set down in the notes of text-books. Nothing is more common than -subjects like "Compare the Characters of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth," -"Compare 'L'Allegro' and 'Il Penseroso,'" and so on. The result is -generally a statement of the criticisms of the characters or works -mentioned, a statement which is a poor rehash of notes, but has of real -comparison no trace. The comparison calls for analytical powers far -beyond anything pupils are likely to have developed; and when a boy -asked me not so very long ago what a teacher expected of him when he -had been required to compare Sir Roger de Coverley and Will Honeycomb -I was forced to reply that I was utterly unable even to conjecture. I -regard the frequent appearance of theme-subjects of this sort in the -secondary schools with mingled envy and wonder: envy for the teachers -who apparently possess the power to elicit satisfactory work on these -lines, and wonder that the power to do this work seems so completely -to disappear when the pupil leaves the secondary schools. - -To comment on the subjects which have actually stood upon entrance -examinations in the last half-dozen years would in the first place -be invidious, in the second would expose me to an unpleasant danger -of seeming to challenge attention to papers for which I have been -personally responsible, and in the third place would do no possible -good. A teacher with common sense can make the application of the -general principles I have stated if he choose; and he will at least -minimize the unfortunate necessity of making the written work a -preparation for examinations. - - -X - -Memorizing is perhaps best done in connection with the last reading -of the play, but that is a mere detail. Students should be encouraged -to commit to memory the finest passages, and should be given an -opportunity of repeating them in the class with as much intelligent -effectiveness as possible. They should not, of course, be encouraged -or allowed to rant or to "spout" Shakespeare; but the teacher should -insist that at least lines be recited so that the meaning is brought -out clearly, and he should encourage the speaker to give each passage -as if it were being spoken as the expression of a distinct personal -thought. - -. . . . . . . . . - -As I said at the beginning of this chapter, I have not endeavored to -provide a model, but merely for the sake of suggestiveness to offer an -illustration. This is at least one way in which the study of a play -may be taken up in the secondary school. Whether it is the best way -for a given case is another matter; and I must at the risk of tiresome -iteration add that here as everywhere the highest function of the -teacher is to discover what is the best possible method not for the -world in general, but for the particular class to be dealt with at the -moment. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[167:1] A metal covering for the head: a helmet. - -[175:1] Page 80. - -[180:1] Personally I would never have a pupil recite except on his feet. - -[188:1] See chapter xi. - - - - -XIV - -CRITICISM - - -What should be used in the way of tests of the knowledge of pupils is a -puzzling question for any teacher. Like any other pedagogically natural -and necessary inquiry, it can be answered only with a repetition of the -caution that no set of hard and fast rules will apply to all schools or -to all classes. Students themselves, however, would often be perplexed -if they were not given definite tasks to perform, definite questions to -answer, definite facts to memorize. In acquiring the vocabulary needed -for the reading of a play both teacher and pupil feel with satisfaction -that legitimate because tangible work is being done; and for either -it is hard to appreciate the fact that the essential thing in the -study of literature is too intangible to be tested or measured by -specific standards. In what I have called the inspirational treatment -of literature both are likely to feel as if a vacation is being taken -from real work, since the impression is general that the only method of -keeping within the limits of useful educational progress is dependent -upon the accomplishing of concrete tasks. - -The need of fitting students for examinations is generally allowed in -practice to answer the question what shall be done. I have already -said that I have personally little faith in the ultimate value of -much of the drill thus imposed, and it is hardly to be supposed that -any intelligent teacher could be satisfied to let matters rest here. -Certainly a pupil who graduates from the high school should have some -power of criticising intelligently any book which comes into his hands, -and of forming estimates of diction, general form, and to a less extent -even of style. His criticism is necessarily incomplete; but it should -be genuine and sound as far as it goes. Such a result is not dependent -upon the power of passing examinations, but is chiefly secured by -precisely that training in appreciation which is least formal and may -easily appear farthest from practice in criticism. - -Some actual and definite criticism, however, is legitimately a part of -the school-work; and concerning this certain things present themselves -to my mind as obvious. In the first place criticism is of no value, but -rather is harmful, if it fails to be genuine. From this follows the -deduction that no criticism can profitably be required until the child -is old enough to form an opinion, and that at no stage should comments -be asked which are beyond the child's intellectual development. In the -early stages criticism is necessarily genuine in proportion as it is -personal; and it must have become entirely easy and natural before it -can safely be made at all theoretic. - -In the early stages of the use of literature in education, as has -been said already, the aim is to help the child to enjoy, and to -understand so that enjoyment may be inevitable. This should normally be -done in the home, but since in a large number of cases in the common -schools the effects of home training in literature are so lamentably -wanting, the teacher must in most cases undertake to begin at the very -beginning. So far as criticism goes, the early stages are of course -merely the rudimentary likings or dislikings, and the encouragement -of expression of such tastes. Following this comes naturally the -putting into word of reasons for preferences. This must be done with -simplicity, in the homeliest and most unconventional manner, and above -all with no hint to the child that he is doing anything so large as to -"criticise." It is precisely at this stage that children are most in -danger of contracting the habit of repeating parrot-like the opinions -of their elders. All of us have to begin life by receiving the views of -adults, and we are all—except in the rare instances of extraordinary -geniuses, who need not be much considered here—eager to conceal lack -of knowledge by glib repetitions of the ideas of others. To force young -pupils to give opinions when they have none of their own to give is to -repeat the mistake which Wordsworth notes in his "Lesson for Fathers." -The child in the poem unthinkingly declared that he preferred his new -home to the old. His father insists upon a reason, and the poor little -fellow, having none, is forced into the lie: - - "At Kilve there is no weathercock, - And that's the reason why." - -In the lower grades the thing which may well and wisely be done is to -accustom the children to literature and to literary language. If pupils -come to the upper grades and show that this has not been done, the -teacher still has it to do, just as he must teach them the alphabet or -the multiplication-table if they arrive without the knowledge of these -essentials to advanced work. This is the only safe foundation upon -which work may rest, and although to acquire it consumes the time which -should be put on more elaborate study, that study cannot be soundly -done until the rudimentary preparation is well mastered. Criticism must -be postponed until the pupil is prepared for it. - -Criticism, whenever it come, must begin simply, and it must be -connected with the actual life and experience of the child. We are -constantly endangering success in teaching by being unwilling to stop -at the limits of the possible. Boys and girls will be frank about what -they read if they are once really convinced that frankness is what is -expected and desired. They are constantly, if not always consciously, -on the watch for what the teacher wishes them to say. Whatever -encourages them to think for themselves and to state that thought -unaffectedly and freely is what is educationally valuable, and this -only. - -Opinions concerning characters in tales perhaps do as well as anything -for the beginning of criticism in classes. A teacher may say to a -pupil: "Suppose you had known Silas Marner, what would you have thought -of him?" The child is easily led to perceive the difference between -seeing or knowing such a man in real life, with its limited chances -of any knowledge of character, of the past history of the weaver, of -his secret thoughts, or of his feelings, and knowing him from the book -which gives all these details so fully. The question then becomes: -"Suppose you had in some way found out about him all that the novel -tells, what would you have felt?" The teacher will easily detect and -should with the gentlest firmness and the firmest gentleness suppress -any conventional answers. The young girl who with glib conventionality -declares that Silas was a noble character whom she pities because of -the way in which he was misunderstood may be questioned whether if -she had lived in Raveloe she would have seen more than the homely, -unsocial stranger, and whether, even had she known all that was -concealed under his homely life, she could have held out against his -general unpopularity. She is forced to think when she is asked whether -among those who live around her may not be men and women whose lives -are as pathetic and as misjudged as was that of the weaver. Children -have ideas about the personages in the stories they hear or read, and -it is only necessary to encourage, in each pupil according to his -temperament, first the formulating of these clearly and then the frank -stating of them. - -In all this sort of criticism one thing which should be sedulously -avoided is any appearance of drawing a moral. Deliberately to draw a -moral is almost inevitably to defeat any lesson which the tale might -enforce if it is left to make its own effect. The point to be aimed at -here is not to turn the story into a sermon, but to make it as close -to the individual life of the child as is possible. The difference is -in essence that between being told a thing and experiencing it. Once -this relation is established, the child feels an emotional share in the -matter such as can be created by no amount of sermonizing. It may be -doubted if any genuine child ever drew a moral spontaneously, and in -all this work spontaneity is the beginning of wisdom. - -After the pupil has come to have some notion, more or less clear -according to his own mental development, of what the personages in a -story or a play are like, he easily goes on to determine the relation -of one event to another, the interrelation between the separate parts -of the work. He should be able to tell in a general way at least what -influence one character has upon another, and of the responsibility of -each in the events of the narrative. - -These opinions should as much as possible be put into speech before -being written. The subject should be talked out, however, in a manner -so sincere and straightforward as to make conventionality impossible. -Students must be held rigorously to honest and simple expression of -real beliefs and feelings. In every class, and perhaps especially -among girls, are likely to be some who will surely repeat conventional -phrases. Children pick up set phrases with surprising ease, and will -offer them whenever they have reason to believe such counterfeit will -be received instead of real coin. These shams are easily recognized, -and they should be mercilessly dealt with, almost anything except -sarcasm, that weapon which is forbidden to the teacher, being -legitimate against such cant. The student who repeats a set phrase -is usually effectually disposed of by a request to explain, to make -clear, and to prove; so that the habit of meaningless repetition cannot -grow unless the teacher is insensitive to it. The genuine ideas of the -pupils may be developed and put into word in the class, and afterwards -the writing out will involve getting them into order and logical -sequence. - -It may be objected that by this process each scholar will borrow ideas -from what he hears said in the class. This is in reality no serious -drawback to the method. If the individuals are trained to think for -themselves, each will judge the views which are presented in class, and -will make them his own by shaping and modifying them. In any case the -danger of a student's getting too many ideas is not large, and those -he gets from his peers, his classmates, are much more likely to appeal -to him and to remain in his mind than any which he culls from books. -The notions will sometimes be crude, but they will be so corrected and -discussed in recitation that they cannot be essentially false. - -Any criticism which is received from pupils, whether spoken or written, -must first of all be intelligent. Sound common sense is the only safe -basis for any comment, and the higher the grade of a work of literature -imaginatively the more easy is it to treat it in a common-sense spirit. -Pupils should be made to feel not only that they have a right to any -opinion of their own on what they read, but that they are expected -to have one; and that this opinion may be of any nature whatever, -so long as they can justify it by sound reasons. Still farther than -this, they should be allowed freely to cherish tastes for which they -cannot give formal justification—provided they can show a reasonable -appreciation of the real qualities of the work they like or dislike. -In the higher regions of imaginative work the power of analysis of the -most able critic may fail; and it is manifestly idle to expect from -school-children exhaustive criticism of high things which yet they may -feel deeply. - -Since it is of so much importance that all comment and criticism shall -be sincere, care must be taken to keep work within limits which make -sincerity possible. Students must not be required to perform tasks -which are in the nature of things impossible. To push beyond dealing -with comparatively simple matters in a frank and direct manner, is -inevitably to encourage the use of conventional phrases and to replace -sincerity with cant. - -A nice question connects itself with the determination of how much it -is proper and wise to require of children: it is how much farther it -is well to call upon them to criticise literature than we should ask -them to comment on life. We need to know what we are doing, and though -an examination of the character and motives of a criminal in a book -is not the same thing as would be this sort of criticism applied to a -flesh and blood neighbor, the two processes are the same in essence. -The better the teacher succeeds in arousing the imagination of the -pupil, moreover, the more closely the two approach. We should be sure -that we are doing well in requiring of the young, who would not and -should not be encouraged to dwell on actual crime and suffering, that -they produce original opinions upon these things as represented in -fiction. - -It is of course to be allowed that no teaching can make fictions vital -and real in exactly the same way as is that which is known actually to -have happened. An imaginative child vitalizes the story which touches -him, but does not bring it home to himself as he would occurrences -within the circle of his own experience. It may be urged that by -encouraging him to analyze sin in the comparatively remote world of -fancy we give him a chance to perceive its moral hatefulness without -that distrust of his fellows which might come if he were forced to -learn the lesson from the harsher happenings of life; and that in books -the knowledge of character and circumstance is so much fuller than it -is likely to be in experience that he is able to see more clearly. -The fact remains, however, that we should hardly expect or desire a -lucid and reasonable estimate of the late King and Queen of Servia -from the school-children who are being made to write laborious reams -on the motives and the character of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth; that we -should be shocked at finding boys and girls considering in real life -occurrences like the seduction of Olivia Primrose, or suspicions like -those Gareth entertained of Lynette. We certainly cannot afford to -be prurient, or to confine the young to goody-goody books. They may -generally be safely trusted, it seems to me, to read any tale or poem -of first-class merit, although its subject were as painful as that of -"Œdipus." They will receive it as they receive facts of life told -by a wholesome-minded person, often with very little real perception -of the darkest and most sinister side. It will be as it was with young -Copperfield when he read Fielding's masterpiece and took delight in -the hero, "a child's Tom Jones, a harmless creature." When it comes to -the discussion of motives, of character, of black events in fiction, -the case is different. The child is forced to take a new attitude; to -accumulate the opinions of his elders, to view life from their more -sophisticated point of view; and inevitably to receive a fresh, and not -always a desirable insight into evil. I am not inclined to dogmatize on -this point, and touch upon it chiefly for the sake of suggesting that -teachers may do well to keep it a little in mind. Each case, it seems -to me, must be decided upon its own merit, and I at least have no -arbitrary rules to lay down. Of one thing, however, I am sure, and that -is that whatever is taken up at all should be treated with absolute and -fearless frankness. - -All criticism of diction, style, or whatever belongs to literary -workmanship necessarily comes late. In the secondary schools I believe -very little can profitably be done in this line at all. Of this I -shall speak later in connection with the study of workmanship, but -here I may say that I suppose most teachers to recognize the obvious -absurdity of such questions about metres and metrical effects as are -given on page 43. That they should be gravely proposed in a book of -advice is indication that somebody believes in them; but any class -of students with which I have ever had to deal would be reduced to -mechanical repetition of cant conventionality by the bare sight of such -interrogations. - -One thing which is of importance is the need of encouraging pupils to -judge of any work as a whole. It is so much easier to deal with details -than with a complete work that constantly students leave schools where -the training is in many respects excellent, and have gained no ability -to go beyond the examination of particulars. The far more important -power of estimating a book or a play from its total effect has not been -cultivated. No teacher should forget that the ability to deal fairly -with a whole is of as much more value than any facility in minute -criticism as that whole is greater than any of its parts. - -This does not mean that a student can well summarize everything he -reads or that he may wisely attempt it. It does imply that at least his -attention shall have been directed over and over to the great fact that -the study of details is not the study of a masterpiece; that he shall -have been required to judge a book or a play, so far as he is able, as -a whole work and with reference to its entire effect. In talking with -undergraduates even about short works, pieces no longer than a single -essay of Steele or a simple lyric, I constantly find that they are apt -to have no conception whatever that they could or should do anything -but pick out minute details. I ask what it amounts to as a whole, how -it justifies itself, or what is its value as a complete poem or essay, -and they seem utterly unable to see what I am driving at. The painful -attempt to find out what I wish them to say so entirely occupies their -minds as to render them incapable of using whatever power of judgment -they may possess. Not long ago one boy said to me: "I didn't know it -made any difference what the poem was about if you could pick out -things in it." "What do you suppose it was written for?" I asked. A -look of painful bewilderment came into his face, and he answered that -he supposed some folks liked to write that way. I inquired whether he -would test a bridge—he was an engineering student—by picking out bits -without seeing how the parts held together and how strong it was as -a whole, and he returned with puzzled frankness: "But a bridge has a -use." "Very good," was what I assured him, "and so does a poem. Can't -you appreciate that mankind has not been keeping poems from generation -to generation without finding out if they really are useless? Any work -of literature that is really good must be of value as a whole, and -you have not got hold of it until you are able to see what it is for -as a single thing, a complete unit." The fact is so evident that it -seems almost absurd to mention it in a book intended for teachers, but -scores of boys come yearly from the fitting-schools who prove how often -the fact is ignored,—ignored, very likely, because it is taken for -granted, but no less ignored with seriously ill effects. - -In general, criticism in the secondary schools should have to do only -with the good points of work. Unless a pupil himself shows that he -perceives shortcomings in what is read, it is on the whole the place -of the instructor to keep the attention of the class fixed on merits, -while defects are ignored. This is not to be interpreted as meaning -that any weakness should ever be allowed to pass for a merit; or as -indicating that it is ever wise to shirk a difficulty. Any intelligent -pupil, for instance, should see for himself that the metaphors are -sadly and inexcusably mixed in the passage: - - Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer - The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, - Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, - And by opposing end them. - -It is necessary to meet this knowledge frankly, and to show him how it -is that Shakespeare can be so great in spite of faults like this. It is -the inclination of childhood to feel that a man must be perfect to be -great, but even at the cost of encountering the difficulty of such a -faith the truth must be told. In general, however, it is as well not to -go out of the way to enforce the doctrine of human fallibility, and the -youthful mind is best nourished by being fed on what is good, rather -than by being taught to perceive what is bad. - -When a pupil is asked to put into words the reason why a piece is -written, he should be required to answer by a complete sentence, a -properly phrased assertion. He is not unlikely to begin by giving -a single term, an incomplete and tentative phrase, or at best a -fragmentary statement. For the sake of the clearness of his own -idea and of the habit of accurate thinking, he should be encouraged -and expected to make the idea clear and the statement finished. -Student-criticism, as I have said perhaps often enough already, cannot -in the nature of things be either profound or exhaustive, but it should -be intelligent and well defined as far as it goes. - - - - -XV - -LITERARY WORKMANSHIP - - -The appreciation of literary workmanship dawns very slowly on the -child's mind. In the secondary schools not much can be accomplished -in the way of making students feel the niceties of literary art; -but something should be done to enforce the nature and the worth of -technique. Much that touches the undergraduate's feelings he cannot -analyze, and should never in any work of the secondary schools be -asked to criticise. He should, however, if he is to be systematically -trained in the study of masterpieces, have knowledge enough of the -qualities which distinguish them from lesser work to perceive on what -their claims to superiority are founded. Children so naturally and -so generally feel that distinctions which do not appeal to them are -arbitrary, and it is of so much importance to guard against any feeling -of this sort in the case of literature, that it is worth while to be -at some pains to make distinctions perceptible, even if they may not -always be made entirely clear. - -One of the tests of rank in civilization is appreciation of -workmanship. The savage knows nothing of mechanics beyond the power -of a lever in prying up a rock, the action of a bowstring, or crude -facts of this sort. A machine to him is not only incomprehensible, -but supernatural: a locomotive is a fire-devil, and a loom or a -printing-press, should he see one, a useful spirit. At the other end of -the scale of appreciation of mechanical appliances is the inventor who -devises or the trained engineer who understands the most complicated -engines of modern ingenuity. Somewhere between stands any one of -us,—the ordinary pupil presumably far above the savage, but far below -the expert. In the appreciation of the art of the painter, at the -bottom of the scale is the bushman who can look at the clever painting -of a man and not know what it represents, and at the top the great -painters of the world and those who can best enter into the spirit of -their productions. In this scale again each of us stands somewhere; the -average school-boy is unhappily likely to be so far down as to take -delight in the colored illustrations of the Sunday newspapers and to -be utterly indifferent to a Titian or a Rembrandt. In comprehension -of the value and effect of language, the same principle obtains. The -scale extends from the savage tribes with a vocabulary of but a few -hundred words for the entire speech of the race and no power of making -combinations beyond the simplest, to the cultivated nations with -perhaps a couple of hundred thousand words and the art of producing the -highest forms of prose and of poetry. The scale is a long one, and its -development has taken uncounted ages; but somewhere in the line each -individual has his place. The degree of the civilization of a race is -unerringly determined by its command of the written word; the mental -rank of the individual is no less certainly fixed by his power of using -and of comprehending human speech. - -This general truth is easily brought home to young people by reminding -them how they began their knowledge of language with the acquirement of -single words and went on to appreciate how much more may be expressed -by word-combinations. After the infantile "give" came in turn "p'ease -give" and "please give me a drink." From such stages each of them has -gone on learning. They have constantly increased their vocabulary, -their knowledge of the value of words, of word-arrangement, and of -sentence-construction. Gradually by practical experience they have -gained some appreciation of all those points which make up the sum of -instruction in classes in composition. They now need to be shown that -literary appreciation is the extension of this knowledge along the same -lines; that it is the means of advancing toward a higher place in that -scale which extends from the ignorant savage to the sages. They may in -this way be brought to a conception of literary technique as a matter -connected with the process of perception which they have been carrying -on from childhood. - -How value in all workmanship is to be judged by the effects produced is -admirably illustrated by machinery, but it is hardly less evident in -the case of language. The simpler forms of sentence come to be used by -the child in place of single disconnected words because with sentences -he can do more in the way of communicating his ideas and obtaining what -he desires. To illustrate more complicated forms of language we have -only to remind the child how carefully he orders his speech when he is -endeavoring to coax a favor from an unwilling friend or a reluctant -parent. The child feels himself clever just in proportion as he is -able so to frame his plea that it secures his end. He may be reminded -that he selects most carefully the terms which suggest such things and -ideas as favor his wish and avoids any that might hint at possible -objections. Out of these homely, universal experiences of childhood it -is possible to build up in the mind of the pupil a very fair notion of -the nature and the use of literary workmanship; a notion, moreover, -which is at once sound in principle and entirely adequate as a working -basis. - -Teaching consists principally in helping pupils to extend ideas -which they have received from daily life. In this matter of literary -workmanship, for instance, it means showing them that they have, -without being especially conscious of the fact, a responsiveness -to well-turned forms of speech and to skilful use of words. They -may perhaps be made to appreciate this with especial vividness by -having their attention called to the pleasure they take in clever or -apt sayings from their fellows or from joking speeches. This form -of illustration must, it is true, be used with discretion. It is -always difficult to lead the mind of a child from the concrete to -the general. Not a few children—and children, too, of considerable -intelligence—are not unlikely, if jesting remarks are instanced, to -conclude that good literary workmanship means something amusing. With -due care, however, a class may be led to see how the same quality -of apt presentation in word which pleases them in the sayings of -schoolmates is what, carried farther, is the foundation of literary -technique. - -Concrete examples of thoughts so well expressed that they have come to -be almost part of common speech are abundant. The crisp, dry phrases of -Pope lend themselves admirably as illustration, they are so neat, so -compact, and, it may be added, so free from delicate sentiment which -might be blurred in the handling. - - Order is heaven's first law. - An honest man's the noblest work of God. - -The class can supply examples in most cases, and be pleased with itself -for being able to do so. The finer instances from greater writers may -be led up to, the epigrams of Emerson, the imaginative phrases of -Shakespeare; and so on to longer examples, with illustrations from the -rolling paragraphs of Macaulay, the panoplied prose of De Quincey, -and after that from lyrics and passages in blank verse. Thus much -may be done in the way of instruction in technique fairly early in -high-school work. With it or after it at a proper interval should -follow instruction in regard at least to the mechanical differences -between prose and poetry and what they mean. I have mentioned -earlier[212:1] the impression students often bring from the reading -of Macaulay's "Milton." The remarks there quoted are selected from -answers to a question of an entrance paper in regard to the difference -in form and in quality between prose and poetry. Others from the same -examination show yet more strikingly the general haziness of conception -in the minds of the candidates: - - In prose words are thrown together in a way to make good sense - and to form good English. Poetry is the grouping of words into - a metric [_sic_] system. - - Poetry is often written in rhyme, while prose is expressed in - sentences. - - Poetry is the name given to writing that is written in verse - form. One does not as a rule get the meaning of things when - they are written in verse form. - - Prose may be verse when dealt with by such an author as - Shakespeare or Milton, but prose usually consists of words - arranged in sentences and paragraphs without any special order. - - Poetry is used as a pastime, and as such is all right. - - Between good blank verse and prose there is not much difference - except in the form of wording in which it is put upon the page. - - For me, the difference between prose and poetry is this: Prose - does not rhyme and poetry does. Under such a definition, all - literature not poetry must be prose. Therefore Shakespeare's - works are prose. - -The illustrations might be much extended, but these will show the -confusion which existed in the minds of boys who had been painfully -drilled in the college entrance requirements. I have not selected -the examples for their absurdity, although in a melancholy way they -are droll enough; but I have meant them to illustrate the confusion -which existed in the minds of a large number of the candidates at that -particular examination of what makes the vital difference between prose -and poetry. It is not my contention that teachers in the secondary -schools are to go into minute details in regard to poetic form; but I -do believe that it is idle to talk about the rank of a writer as a poet -or of the beauty of Shakespeare's verse to students who do not know the -difference between verse and prose. - -I may be allowed to remark in passing that to my mind the influence of -the theories of Macaulay's "Milton" alluded to above illustrates the -difference in effect of that which appeals to the personal experience -and feelings of boys and that which they are forced to receive without -such inward interpretation. The boys who were trained in the "Milton" -were trained also in Carlyle's "Burns." The Carlyle, with its eloquent -appreciation of the office of the poet, the seer to whom has been given -"a gift of vision," had apparently left no trace upon their minds. They -had, however, been forced, too often unwilling, over numerous pages of -what they were assured was poetry of the highest quality, yet which to -them was unintelligible and wearisome. When Macaulay declared that -poetry was a relic of barbarism they seized upon the theory eagerly -because it justified their own feelings, because it coincided with -their own impressions; and thenceforth they doubtless held complacently -to their faith in the obsolete uselessness of verse, fortified by so -high an authority. - -In the whole body of papers in the examination from which I have been -quoting very few gave the impression that the writer had a clear -conception that somehow, even if he could not express it, a vital -difference exists between poetry and prose. The greater number of -the boys seemed to think that rhyme made the distinction, or that -distortion of sentences was the leading characteristic. Not one -teacher in a score had succeeded in impressing upon his pupils the -fundamental truth that the only excuse poetry can have for existing -is that it fulfils an office impossible for prose. Yet nothing which -can properly be called the study of poetry can be done until this -prime fact is recognized with entire clearness. Beyond the entirely -unanalytical enjoyment of verse, the native responsiveness to rhythm, -and the uncritical pleasure with which one learns to love literature -and to seek it as a means of pleasure, the first, the most primary, the -absolutely indispensable fact to be thoroughly impressed on a young -student is that poetry uses form as a part, and an essential part, of -its language. The boy must be made to understand that just as he tries -by his tone, by his manner, by his smile, to produce in his hearers -the mood in which he wishes them to receive what he has to say, so the -poet by his melody, by the form of his verse, by his ringing rhythms or -long, melting cadences, by his rhyme or his pauses, is endeavoring to -interpret the ideas he expresses as surely as he is by the statements -he makes. The truth which the teacher knows, that not infrequently the -metrical effect is really of more value and significance than the ideas -stated, is naturally for the most part too deep for the comprehension -of pupils at this stage. It would only confuse a class to go so far as -this; but if we are to "study" poetry, we must have at least a working -definition of what poetry is, and one which shall commend itself to the -children with whom we are working. - -As a mere suggestion which may be of practical use to some teachers, I -would call attention to what may be done by comparing certain pieces of -prose with the poems which have grown out of them. I know of nothing -better for this use than Tennyson's "Ballad of the Revenge" and the -prose version of Sir Walter Raleigh from which it is taken. In many -parts the language is almost identical,—but with the differences -between robust prose and a stirring lyric. The teacher who can make a -class see what the distinction is, what the ballad accomplishes that -Raleigh has not attempted, will have made clear by concrete example -what poetry does and why it is written. Another example is Byron's -"Destruction of Sennacherib" compared with the original version of the -incident as given in the Bible. - -It may seem to some teachers that I am going rather deep, but to such I -should simply propound the question what they understand by the study -of poetry. The natural error of the untrained mind is to regard the -intellectual content of a poem as its reason for being, and to foster -such an error as this is to make forever improbable if not impossible -any intelligent or genuine insight into poetry whatever. If we are -not to protect children against this mistake, fatal as it is to any -perception of the real province and nature of poetic art, what do we -expect to accomplish in all the extensive attention which is under the -present system devoted to the works of the masters? - -That so many boys failed to answer satisfactorily in this matter of -distinguishing between prose and poetry is of course not conclusive -evidence either of general ignorance or of conscious fault on the part -of instructors. Boys often fail in attempts to state distinctions -about which they are yet reasonably clear in their minds, and it may -well be that many who gave absurd replies would have no difficulty in -discriminating between verse and prose,—at least when verse fulfilled -the specification of the candidate who wrote: - - A jagged appearance is the main form-characteristic of blank - verse. Each sentence is a separate line, and every other - sentence is indented about a quarter of an inch. - -It would be interesting to present to pupils who have finished the -study of the college requirements half a dozen brief selections, some -prose and some poetry, but all printed in solid paragraphs. The number -of students who could accurately and confidently distinguish in every -case would be a not unfair test of the extent to which the distinction -is understood. - -Teachers probably fail to make this matter clear because they not -unnaturally assume that of course any intelligent lad in his teens -must know the distinction between prose and poetry. Natural as such an -assumption may be, however, it is often—indeed, I am tempted to say -generally—wrong. The chief business of the modern teacher is after -all the instructing of pupils in things which they would naturally be -supposed to know already. It is certainly safer never to assume in -any grade that a student knows anything whatever until he has given -absolute proof. The weakest points in the education of the modern -student are certainly those which are continually taken for granted. - -One of the most serious obstacles in the way of bringing young people -to understand technical excellence and to appreciate literary value is -the difficulty of having school-work done with proper deliberation. It -is doubtful if any process in education can profitably be hurried; it -is certain that nothing of worth can be done in the study of literature -which is not conducted in a leisurely manner. The first care of an -instructor in this delicate and difficult branch must be to insure a -genial atmosphere: an atmosphere of tranquillity and of serenity. No -matter how tall a heap of prescribed books may block the way to the -end of the school year, each masterpiece that is dealt with should be -treated with deference and an amount of time proportioned not to its -number of pages but to the speed with which the class can assimilate -its worth and beauty. If worst comes to worst, I would have a teacher -say honestly to his pupils: "We have taken up almost all of the term -by treating what we have studied as literature instead of huddling -through it as a mechanical task. For the sake of examinations we are -forced to crowd the other books in. The process is not fair to them or -to you; so do not make the mistake of supposing that this is the proper -way of treating real books." Children who have been properly trained -will understand the situation and will appreciate the justice of the -proposition. - -In this connection is of interest the remark of an undergraduate -who said that he obtained his first impression of style and of the -effectiveness of words from translating. "I suppose the truth is," -he explained with intelligence, "that in English I never read slowly -enough to get anything more than the story or what was said. When I was -grubbing things out line by line and word by word I at last got an idea -of what my teachers had meant when they talked about the effect of the -choice of words." Many of us can look back to the days when we learned -grammar from Latin rather than from English, although we had been over -much the same thing in our own tongue. In the foreign language we had -to go deliberately and we had to apply the principles we learned. Only -when the student is treating literature so slowly and thoroughly that -these conditions are reproduced does he come to any comprehension of -style or indeed of the real value of literature. - -Readers of all ages naturally and normally read anything the first -time for the intellectual content: for the story, for the information, -for that meaning, in short, which is the appeal to the intellectual -comprehension. The great majority are entirely satisfied to go no -farther. They do not, indeed, perceive the reason for going farther; -and they are too often left in ignorance of the fact that they have -entirely missed the qualities which entitle what they have read to be -considered literature in the higher sense. - -In this they are often encouraged, moreover, by the unhappy practice -of making paraphrases. The paraphrasing of masterpieces is to me -nothing less than a sacrilege. It degrades the work of art in the mind -of the child, and contradicts the fundamental principle that poetry -exists solely because it expresses what cannot be adequately said in -any other way. A paraphrase bears the same relation to a lyric, for -instance, that a drop of soapy water does to the iridescent bubble -of which it was once the film. The old cry against the selection of -passages from Milton for exercises in parsing should be repeated with -triple force against the use of literature as material for children to -translate from the words of the poet into their own feeble phraseology. -The parsing was by far the lesser evil. It is often necessary to have -an oral explanation of difficult passages; but this should be always -expressly presented as simply a means to help the child to get at -the real significance of a lyric, a sort of ladder to climb by. Any -paraphrasing and explaining should be carefully held to its place as an -inadequate and unfortunate necessity. The class should never be allowed -to think that any paraphrase really represents a poet, or that it is to -be regarded in any light but that of apologetic tolerance. - -In this matter of workmanship, as everywhere else in the process of -dealing with literature, much depends upon the character of the class. -Much must always be left unaccomplished, and much is always wisely -left even unattempted. Often the teacher must go farther in individual -cases than would naturally have been the case in a given grade -because questions will be asked which lead on. It is often necessary, -for instance, to explain that the crowding forward of events made -unavoidable by stage conditions is not a violation of truth, but a -conforming to the truth of art. A lad will object that things could not -move forward so rapidly, and it is then wise to show him that dramatic -truth does not include faithfulness to time, but may condense the -events of days into an hour so long as it is true to human nature and -to the effects those events would have had if occurring at intervals -however great. Again children will object in a tale that the incidents -are not likely to have happened; and it is then necessary to make clear -the distinction between probability and possibility, and how fiction -may deal with either. These matters, however, are to be left to the -intelligence of the individual instructor. If he cannot manage them -wisely without advice, he cannot do it with arbitrary rules. - -For a last word on the matter of training students in the appreciation -of literary form and workmanship I should offer a warning against -attempting too much. Something is certainly unavoidable, but of -minutiæ it is well to exercise what Burke calls "a wise and salutary -neglect." Literary language must be learned or all intelligent work is -utterly impossible; since form is an important element in all artistic -language, it is not possible to ignore this. The extent to which work -can and should go in the study of form in a given class is one of the -matters which the instructor has to decide; and when he has decided it -he must resolutely refuse to allow himself to be unhappy because in the -great realm of literature are so many noble tracts of which he has not -even hinted to his class the existence. If he has done the lesser work -well he has at least put his students in a condition to do the greater -for themselves; if he had attempted more he might have accomplished -nothing. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[212:1] Page 36. - - - - -XVI - -LITERARY BIOGRAPHY - - -How far the biography of authors shall be a part of the school-work is -a question which deserves attention. I began these talks by calling -attention to the fact that it is so much easier to teach details -about the life of a writer than it is to train the youthful mind to a -true appreciation of literature itself. Teachers naturally and almost -unconsciously fall into the habit of over-emphasizing this division of -the history of literature, and questions about the lives of authors are -dangerously easy to formulate for recitation or for examination-paper. -Nothing, however, should be allowed to obscure the idea that the work -and not the worker is the thing with which study should be concerned; -and everybody would agree that in theory the limit to biographical -inquiry in secondary-school study is the extent to which a knowledge of -an author's career or personality aids to the understanding of what he -has written. - -To say this, however, is much like restating the question. Like a good -deal that passes for argument, it only puts the problem in other words; -for we are at once confronted with the doubt how far a pupil in the -secondary school is likely to be helped by knowing about the facts of -a writer's life. At the beginning of the "Spectator" Addison remarks: - - I have observed that a reader seldom peruses a book with - pleasure, till he knows whether the writer of it be a black - or a fair man, of a mild or choleric disposition, married or - a bachelor, with other particulars of the like nature, that - conduce very much to the right understanding of an author. - -I may frankly confess that this is so entirely untrue of myself that -I am perhaps not a fair judge for others. Since it is to me a matter -almost of indifference who wrote a book, where or when he lived, what -he was and what he did, I have not perhaps estimated rightly the -effect of biography on children. I am firm in my belief, however, that -for making literature more clear, more vivid, more attractive, the -effect of a knowledge of the author's life is with children apt to be -practically nothing. If they are interested in a book, they may on that -account like to know something of the man who wrote it, but I have yet -to find a student who really cared for a piece of literature because he -had been made to learn facts about the author. That a book was written -in a given age will account to him for fashions of thought strange -to-day, but he is seldom able to carry such analysis beyond the most -general idea. - -In regard to helping scholars in the secondary schools to understand -a given piece of literature by instructing them about the personality -of the writer, I am quite as skeptical. It may be that one lad in a -hundred may come to a better appreciation of a book from what he knows -of the temperament of the author. It is possible to point this out in -occasional striking instances. If a boy read "A Modest Proposal," a -teacher naturally calls attention to the character of Swift as having -determined the ferocious form which this plea for humanity has taken; -in dealing with "The Journal of the Plague Year" it is inevitable that -the instructor speak of the journalistic tendency of Defoe, which led -him to write on topics which were at the moment before the public. In -either case the result is not important in the sense of going much -beyond what the student may be made to feel without any mention of the -writer or the writer's peculiarities. - -It is very easy to delude ourselves into feeling that we are being -helpful when in reality we are simply being pedagogic. If our pupils -were so far advanced as to be able to perceive the subtle relations -between character and literature, between the nature of a writer and -the interpretation we are to put upon what he has written, they would -in most cases be better fitted to instruct us than to receive any -instruction we are able to furnish. It is sometimes well to give pupils -things which we are aware they cannot grasp; to show them the existence -of lines of thought which they are not yet qualified to carry out. -Our aim in this is to broaden their perceptions, and to direct them -toward truths which later they may investigate for themselves. In the -secondary schools, however, very little of this sort can be profitably -done in connection with anything so complex and subtle as the relation -of the character of an author to his work. Young people must take -literature at its face value, so to say, and in teaching them to do -this is more than room for all the energies a teacher in these grades -can bring to bear. - -The history of literature, its development, its relations to the -evolution of human thought, should all be as far as possible familiar -to the teacher; and no instructor with knowledge and enthusiasm is -likely to ignore any of these in dealing with masterpieces. They must -all, however, be brought forward with care, for it is easy to overwhelm -the mind of the young, especially in an age like the present when a -child goes to school with attention already strained by the imperative -and insistent calls of daily life. Students on leaving the high school -should be familiar with the place in the centuries of authors they have -especially studied, and of the score or so of writers most important -in English literature from Chaucer down. With the exact details of -biography they need not have been concerned. If they have had curiosity -enough to look these up as a matter of individual interest, it is -well, although I am not sure that anything is gained by encouraging -this research. To know of Shakespeare, of Chaucer, and of Milton, for -instance, what may be put into a dozen lines; and of lesser writers to -have proportionate information, seems to me ample. The work and not the -worker is of importance; the book and not the author; the poem and not -the poet. - -Many teachers will not agree with me in giving to the personality and -the biographies of writers so small a place. Every man must judge by -his own experience, and I can only say that every year I deal with -classes in literature I find myself deliberately giving less attention -to the history of literature. I have insisted already upon the danger -that such study shall take the place of the consideration of literature -itself, and I have now attempted to reënforce that thought by stating -definitely what it seems to me wise to attempt in the secondary -schools. I do not desire to be dogmatic, however, and here as elsewhere -the conclusion of the whole matter is that while the question of the -wisdom of giving extended instruction in literary history or biography -is to be carefully considered, each instructor must frame the answer -according to personal experience and the individual needs of any given -class. - - - - -XVII - -VOLUNTARY READING - - -No teacher who is really concerned with the development of the pupil's -mind can afford to ignore outside influences. Indeed, even were a -teacher conceivable who, consciously or unconsciously, cared only to -drag scholars over the prescribed course, he would yet be forced to -take into account the effect of every-day life and circumstance, and -under existing conditions every teacher is sure to find that he is to -a great extent obliged to do the work of the home in all that relates -to the æsthetic training of a large number of children. In teaching -literature it is not only wise but it is easy to discover and to a -large extent to influence whatever reading pupils do of their own will -outside of the required work. - -Thoroughly to accomplish all that a teacher desires, or even all that -is often expected of him, would be possible only to the gods; and it -is evident enough that no instructor can exercise complete parental -supervision over all the life of the pupils under him. Certain things -in the training of the young are accomplished at home or go forever -undone. Perhaps the most serious difficulty in this whole complicated -business of education is that the schoolmaster is so largely called -upon to undo what is done outside the schoolroom. He may at least be -thankful that in the matter of reading he is dealing with something -tangible, something in which so many of his flock may with skilful -management be influenced. - -In a leaflet published under the auspices of the New England -Association of Teachers of English, "The Voluntary Reading of High -School Scholars," Professor W. C. Bronson, of Brown University, -comments on the fact that the mind of the young person is likely to -perceive little relation between the literature administered at school -and the books voluntarily read outside. He says: - - Many of our high-school youth are leading a double life in - things literary: in the class-room Doctor Jekyll studies the - lofty idealism of "Comus" or "Paradise Lost;" outside, Mr. - Hyde revels in the yellow journalism and the flashy novel; and - in many cases Doctor Jekyll does not even realize that he has - changed into another and lower being. - -The difficulty in making boys and girls realize a connection between -school-work and actual life is familiar to every teacher. I am -personally convinced that one reason for this—although obviously not -the only one—is the modern tendency to diminish the sense of value and -necessity by too much yielding to the inclination of the child. Coaxing -along the line of the least resistance is sure to produce an effective -even if hardly conscious indifference, which is far less healthy than -the temper of mind bred by insistence upon progress along the line -of duty. Be that as it may, however, the modern scholar generally -regards school as one thing and life as practically another. Books read -in the class-room, books studied, discussed as a part of formal and -required work, are felt to be remote from daily existence and almost as -something a bit unreal. They may be even enjoyed, and yet seem to the -illogical youthful mind as having a certain adult quality which sets -them apart from any vital connection with the life of youth. It is not -uncommon, I believe, for a boy to like a book in his private capacity, -reading it for simple and unaffected pleasure, and yet to feel it -almost a duty to be bored by the same book when it comes up as a part -of the work of the school-room. - -Very likely a hint of the explanation of the whole matter is to be -found in this last fact. In the first place the work of the schoolroom, -however gently administered, represents compulsion, and we have -trained the rising generation to feel that compulsion is a thing to -be abhorred. Perhaps nothing could ever make school-work the same -as the life which is voluntary and spontaneous; but modern methods -have generally not succeeded in minimizing this difficulty. In the -second place, teachers are too often uncareful or unable to soften the -differences between reading without responsibility of thoroughness -and reading with the consciousness that class-room questionings may -lie beyond. Almost any child has the power of treating a book or a -poem as a friend when he reads for pleasure and of regarding the same -book as an enemy when it becomes a lesson. The thing is normal and not -unhealthy; but it is to be reckoned with and counteracted. - -Professor Bronson, in his brief discussion of the matter, goes on to -remark that where the Jekyll and Hyde attitude of mind exists—which to -some degree, I believe, would be in every pupil— - - The first task of the teacher is to make the pupil fully - realize it and to urge upon him the necessity of discrimination - in his voluntary reading. For this purpose ridicule of trashy - books by name and praise of good books, with reasons why they - are good, may well fill the part of a recitation period, now - and then, even though the routine work suffer a little. For the - same purpose, it is very desirable that more of the best modern - literature be made a part of the English course, especially - in the earlier years, when the pupil's taste is forming, for - it is easier to bring such works into close relation with his - voluntary reading. The teacher of English may also consider - himself recreant if he does not give his class advice about - the reading of magazines and instructions how to read the - newspapers. - -With the spirit of this I agree entirely. The letter does not seem -to me entirely satisfactory. I have learned to be a little afraid -of ridicule as a means of affecting the minds of the young in any -direction. It is the easiest of methods, but no less is it the one -which requires the most prudence and delicacy. It is the one which is -most surely open to the error of the point of view. If the teacher -tries to lessen the inclination of pupils for specific books by -ridicule, he can do no good unless he is able to make the class feel -that these books are ridiculous not only according to the standards of -the teacher but according to the standard of the child. To prove that -from the instructor's point of view a book is poor and silly amounts -to little if the work really appeals to the young. No more is effected -than would be accomplished if the teacher told lusty lads that to him -playing ball seemed a foolish form of amusement. They appreciate at -once that he is speaking from a point of view which is not theirs and -which they have no wish to share. He must be able to make it evident -that the book in question, with its attractions, which he must frankly -acknowledge, is poor when judged by standards which the pupils feel to -be true and which belong to the sphere of boyhood. - -I confess with contrition that in my zeal for good literature I have in -earlier days spoken contemptuously of popular and trashy books which -I had reason to think my boys probably enjoyed and admired. I believe -I was wrong. Now I do not hesitate to say what I think about any book -when a student asks me, but I make it a rule never in class to attack -specific books or authors for anything but viciousness, and that -question is hardly likely to arise in the secondary schools. I cannot -afford to run the risk of alienating the sympathies of my pupils, -and of arousing a feeling that my point of view is so far removed -from theirs that they cannot trust my opinions to be sympathetic. -The normal attitude of the child toward the adult is likely enough -to be that of believing "grown-ups" to be so far from understanding -what children really care for as to be entirely untrustworthy in the -selection of reading. The child disregards or distrusts the judgments -of his elders not on abstract grounds, but merely from an instinctive -feeling that adults do not look at things from his point of view. I -always fear lest by an unwise condemnation of a book which a lad has -enjoyed I may be strengthening this perfectly natural and inevitably -stubborn conviction. - -The first and most important means of influencing outside reading -is by impressing upon the child's mind the idea that he is studying -literature chiefly for the sake of reading to himself and for himself. -About this should be no doubt or uncertainty. No child should for -a moment be allowed to suppose that such dealing with books as is -possible in the school-room can be chiefly for its own sake, can be -so much an end as a means. To allow him to suppose that the few works -he goes over can be held adequately to represent the great literary -treasures of the race, or that he can be supposed to do more than to -learn how to deal with literature for himself, is at once to make -instruction in this branch more an injury than a benefit. It would -be no more reasonable than to allow him to think that he learns the -multiplication-table for the sake of his school "sums" rather than -that he may have an effective tool to help him in the practical affairs -of life. - -To influence outside work of any sort is difficult, especially in -city schools where the pupils are subject to so many distractions. -The teacher is generally obliged to make his effort in this direction -almost entirely individual, treating no two scholars exactly in the -same way, and he is not infrequently obliged to employ a considerable -amount of shrewdness in the process. "When I wish to talk to John Smith -about his reading," a clever teacher said in my hearing, "I send to him -to see me about his spelling, or his handwriting, or anything to give -an excuse for a chat. Then I bring in the thing I am aiming at as if by -accident." The number of instructors possessed of the adroitness, the -time, and the patience for this sort of finesse is probably not large; -but much may be done by words dropped apparently by chance, if only the -instructor has the matter earnestly at heart. - -How far the relation of books in the required reading to books read -voluntarily may profitably be insisted upon in class must depend -largely upon the particular pupils involved. Every teacher will -certainly do well to find out what his students are reading outside, -if they are reading anything, and he should then consider what use to -make of his knowledge. The very fact that he concerns himself about -the matter will call the attention of the class to the fact that a -connection exists; and that it is real enough to be worth heeding. -Any wise teacher will find an advantage in having indications of the -natural tastes and inclinations of those he is trying to train, and to -know what the boys and girls really like to read will often correct a -tendency to speak of the required readings in a tone that is outside -the range of the sympathies of the scholars. If he knows that the girls -are fond of weeping over "The Broken Heart of the Barmaid," that the -boys revel in "The Bloody Boot-jack," that both find "Mrs. Pigs of the -Potato-patch" exquisitely amusing, he sees at once that he must be -cautious in dwelling on the pathos of "Evangeline," the romance of "The -Flight of a Tartar Tribe," or the humor of Charles Lamb. Children fed -on intellectual viands so coarse would find real literature insipid, -and must be trained with frank acceptance of that fact. - -To say that teachers may also often do something in the way of arousing -parents to do their part in guiding the reading of children is to go -somewhat outside of my field. The public asks so much of teachers -already that any hint of labor in the homes of pupils seems—and -in many cases would be—nothing less than the suggestion of an -impossibility. If I were to urge the matter, I should do it purely on -the ground that teachers may sometimes greatly lessen the difficulty -of the task they undertake in the school-room by a little judicious -labor in the home. In the public schools to-day many children, perhaps -even a majority, come from homes wherein no literary standard is -apparent, and where for the most part none exists. They are being given -a training which their parents did not have, and they feel themselves -better able to direct their elders in things intellectual than their -fathers and mothers are to advise them. In these cases, certainly very -numerous, the teacher must accept the inevitable, and do what he can by -inducing his pupils to talk with him about their outside reading. Where -parents are more cultivated, much may often be effected by the simple -request or suggestion that the young folk be supervised a little in the -choice of books. The teacher must of course use tact in doing anything -in this line, especially in those cases where such a request is most -needed. Parents who pay least attention to such matters are especially -likely to resent interference with their prerogative of neglecting -their children, though they may generally be reached by the flattery -of a carefully phrased request for coöperation. Few things are more -delicate to handle than neglected duties, and the fathers and mothers -who shirk all responsibility for the mental training of their offspring -must be approached as if they jealously tried to leave nothing in this -line for any teacher to do. - -The most common fault of young people to-day in connection with reading -is the neglect of books altogether or the devouring of fiction of a -poor quality. To urge boys and girls to read good books or to admonish -them to avoid poor ones is seldom likely to effect much. Such direct -and general appeal is sure to seem to them part of the teacher's -professional routine work, and not to alter their inclinations or to -make any especial difference with their practice. Children are led -to care for good reading only by being made acquainted with books -that appeal to them; and they are protected against poor or injurious -reading only by being given a taste for what is better. - -This summing-up of the situation is easily made, but how to make -children acquainted in a vital and pleasant fashion with good books and -how to cultivate the taste is really the whole problem which we are -studying. This is the aim and the substance of all genuine teaching -of literature, and everything in these talks is an attempt to help -toward an answer. When the problem of voluntary reading has been -satisfactorily solved the work of the teacher is practically done, -for the pupil is sure to go forward in the right direction whether he -is led or not. All that treatment of literature which for convenience -I have called "inspirational" is directly in the line of developing -and raising the taste of young readers, and beyond this I do not see -that specific rules can be given. Personal influence is after all -what tells, and the most that can be done here is to call attention -to the fact that in so far as a teacher can influence and direct the -voluntary reading of a pupil he has secured a most efficient aid to his -school-work in literature. - - - - -XVIII - -IN GENERAL - - -Throughout these talks I have tried to deal with the teaching of -literature in practical fashion, not letting theory lead me to forget -the conditions actually existing. To consider an ideal state of things -might be interesting, but it would hardly help the teacher bothered -by the difficulties of every-day school-work. I have intended always -to keep well within the field of ordinary experience, and to make -suggestions applicable to average teaching. How well I have succeeded -can be judged better by teachers than by me; but I wish in closing -to insist that at least I believe that what I have said is every-day -common sense. - -I have throughout assumed always that no teacher worthy of the name -can be content with merely formal or conventional results, but will be -determined that pupils shall be brought to some understanding of what -literature really is and of why it is worthy of serious attention—to -some appreciation, in a word, of literature as an art. If an instructor -could be satisfied with fitting boys and girls for examinations, -nothing could be simpler or easier; but I am sure that I am right in -believing that our public-school teachers are eagerly anxious to -make of this study all that is possible in the line of developing and -ennobling their pupils. - -Every earnest teacher knows that literature cannot be taught by -arbitrary methods. The handling of classes studying the masterpieces -of genius must be shaped by the knowledge and the inspiration of the -individual teacher or it is naught. Neither I nor another may give a -receipt for strengthening the imagination, for instilling taste, for -arousing enthusiasm. All that any book of this sort can effect, and all -that I have endeavored to do, is to protest against methods that are -formal and deadening, to offer suggestions which may—even if only by -disagreement—help to make definite the teacher's individual ideas, and -to warn against dangers which beset the path of all of us to whom is -committed the high office of teaching this noble art. - -The idea which I have hoped most strongly to enforce is the possibility -of arousing in children, even in those bred without refining or -intellectual influences, an appreciation of the spirit and the -teachings of the great writers, a love for good books which may -lead them to go on with the study after they have passed beyond the -school-room. The best literature is so essentially human, it so truly -and so irresistibly appeals to natural instincts and interests, that -for its appreciation nothing is needed but that it be understood. To -produce and to cultivate such understanding should be, I believe, the -chief aim of any course in literature. - -The understanding and the appreciation must of course vary according -to the temperament and the responsiveness of the child. Miracles are -not to be expected. No teacher need suppose that the street Arab and -the newsboy will lie down with Browning and rise up with Chaucer; that -Sally and Molly will give up chewing gum for Shakespeare, or that Tom, -Dick, and Harry will prefer Wordsworth to football. In his own way and -to his own degree, however, each child will enjoy whatever literature -he has comprehended. As far as he can be made to care for anything not -directly personal or appealing to the senses, he may be made to care -for this. Nature has taken care of the matter of fitting children to -understand and to love literature as it has prepared them to desire -life. To bring the young into appreciation of the best that has been -thought and recorded by man, there is but one way: make them familiar -with it. - -It is a mistake to suppose, moreover, that an especial sort of books is -needed for children. A selection there should be, and it is manifestly -necessary to exercise common sense in choice of works for study. A -class that will be deeply interested in "Macbeth" would be simply -puzzled and bored by "Troilus and Cressida." Childish games for the -intellect there may be, as there are childish amusements for the body; -but so far as serious training is concerned there is neither adult -literature nor juvenile literature, but simply literature. - -The range of the mind of a child is limited, and the experience -demanded for the simplest comprehension of a work may be necessarily -beyond the possible reach of child life.[240:1] The limitations of -youth have, however, and should have, the same effect in literature as -in life. They restrict the comprehension and the appreciation of the -facts of existence, and equally they restrict the comprehension and -the appreciation of the facts in what is read. The impressions which -the child takes from what he sees or from what he reads are not those -of his elders, although this is less generally true of emotions than -of facts. The important point is that the impressions shall be vital -and wholesome, and above all else that they be true with the actual -verity of human experience. We all commit errors in the conclusions we -draw from life; and children will make mistakes in the lessons they -draw from books. Books which are wise and sane, however, will sooner or -later correct any misconceptions they beget, just as life in time makes -clear the false conclusions which life itself has produced. - -I have spoken more or less about the enjoyment of this study by -children, and it is difficult if not impossible to conceive that if -a class is rightly handled most children will not find the work a -pleasure. It is necessary, however, to be a little on our guard in the -practical application of the principle that children get nothing out -of literature unless they enjoy it. They certainly cannot enjoy it -unless they get something out of it; but it will hardly do to make the -enjoyment of a class too entirely the test by which to decide what work -the class shall do. Pupils should be stimulated to solid effort in the -way of application and concentration, and I have already pointed out -that in mastering the difficulties of literary language they should -be made to do whatever drudgery is needed, whether they are inclined -to it or not. They cannot, moreover, read with intelligence anything -with real thought in it, until they have learned concentration of mind. -Children, like their elders, value most what has cost something to -attain, and facile enjoyment may mean after-indifference. - -The contagion of enthusiasm is one of the means by which children are -most surely induced to put forth their best efforts to understand and -to assimilate. If the teacher is genuinely enthusiastic in his love -for a masterpiece, even if this be something that might seem to be -over the heads of the children, he arouses them in a way impossible -of attainment by any other means. A boy once said to me with that -shrewdness which is characteristic of youth, "My teacher didn't -like that book, and we all knew it by the way she praised it." Sham -enthusiasm does not deceive children; but they are always impressed by -the genuine, and no influence is more powerful. - -The most serious obstacle which teachers of literature to-day meet -with, I am inclined to think, is the difficulty children have in -seizing abstract ideas.[241:1] So long as study and instruction are -confined to the concrete and the particular the pupil works with -good will and intelligence. The moment the boundary is crossed into -the region of the general, he becomes confused, baffled, and unable -to follow. The algebra of life is too much for the brain which is -accustomed to deal only with definite values. What is evidently needed -all along the line is the cultivation of the reasoning powers in the -ability to deal with abstract thought. Personally I believe that this -could be best secured by the simplification of the work in the lower -grades, and by the introduction of thorough courses in English grammar -and the old-fashioned mental arithmetic. If some forty per cent. of -the present curriculum could be suppressed altogether, and then ten -per cent. of the time gained given to these two admirable branches, -the results of training in the lower grades, I am convinced, would -show an enormous improvement. I may be wrong in this, and in any case -we must deal with things as they exist; and the teacher of literature -must accept the fact that he has largely to train his class in breadth -of thinking. He will be able to deal with generalizations only so far -as he is assured that his students will grasp them, and this will -generally mean so far as he is able to teach them to deal with this -class of ideas. - - * * * * * - -This book has stretched beyond the limits which in the beginning were -set for it, and in the end the one thing of which I am most conscious -is of having accomplished the emphasizing of the difficulties of the -branch of work with which it is concerned. If I have done nothing more -than that, I have discouraged where I meant to help; and I can only -hope that at least between the lines if not in the actual statements -may be found by the earnest and hard-working teachers of the land—that -class too little appreciated and worthy so much honor—hints which will -make easier and more effective their dealing with this most important -and most difficult requirement of the modern curriculum. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[240:1] See pages 68-70. - -[241:1] See page 112. - - - - -INDEX - - - Abilities of children differ, 30, 60. - - Abstract ideas, 23, 112-115. - - Acting out poems, 94. - - Addison, _De Coverley Papers_, 128, 138, 146-150; - _Spectator_, 146, 223. - - Analysis _vs._ synthesis, 21. - - Art, literature an, 53; - not to be translated into words, 2; - purpose of, 1, 73. - - - Bach, _Passion Music_, 116. - - Beethoven, 53; - _Ninth Symphony_, 116. - - Biography, literary, 222-226. - - Blake, William, quoted, 31; - _The Tiger_, 93, 96-108. - - Bronson, W. C., _Voluntary Reading_, 228, 230. - - Brown, Dr. John, quoted, 79. - - Browning, 72, 115, 239; - _How they Brought the Good News_, 113; - _The Lost Leader_, 114. - - Burke, 221; - _Speech on Conciliation_, 37, 65, 138-146. - - Byron, _Destruction of Sennacherib_, 133, 215. - - - Carlyle, _Burns_, 213. - - Chaucer, 225, 239. - - Children, abilities differ, 30, 60; - at disadvantage, 118; - comply mechanically, 93; - conceal feeling, 85; - do not know how to study, 46-48; - know when bored, 52; - learn life by living, 19; - must be taught in own language, 68; - must do own work, 58; - must form estimates, 70; - not affected by preaching, 18; - puzzled by literature, 49; - responsive to metrical effects, 117; - skip morals, 89; - their world, 18, 79; - too much demanded of, 45; - understand only through personal experience, 15, 67. - - Coleridge, 72; - _Ancient Mariner_, 37, 84, 85, 181. - - College entrance requirements, 8, 30, 138, 213; - books, 34-38; - editors of, 6. - - Conventionality, how met, 197. - - Cook, May Estelle, _Methods of Teaching Novels_, 128. - - "Cramming," 59. - - Criticism, 193-206; - asked of pupils, 44; - of trashy books, 231; - must take pupil's point of view, 231. - - - Decker, quoted, 169. - - Defoe, _Journal of the Plague Year_, 224. - - Deliberation in work necessary, 217. - - Description, how written by pupils, 127. - - De Quincey, 211; - definition of literature, 123; - _Flight of a Tartar Tribe_, 234. - - Diagrams, futility of, 6. - - Dickens, quoted, 7, 202. - - Didactic literature, 22, 109. - - - Edgeworth, Maria, _Parents' Assistant_, 23. - - Eliot, George, 129; - _Silas Marner_, 5, 32, 37, 56, 127, 152, 197. - - Emerson, 211; - quoted, 65. - - Emotion, aim of literature to arouse, 85; - in literature, 2, 90; - the motive power, 24. - - Enthusiasm, connected with culture, 24; - contagious, 241; - necessary in teaching, 55; - justification of, 57; - reason to be reached through, 40, 50. - - _Evangeline_, 234; - questions on, 42, 43, 45. - - Examinational teaching, 74, 121-135. - - Examinations, 28, 44, 70, 184; - an Institute paper, 130-135; - best prepared for by broad teaching, 122; - boy's view of, 8, 9; - danger of, 40; - entrance, 35, 45; - inevitable, 121; - necessarily a makeshift, 4; - not the aim in teaching, 28, 73; - study for, 121-130; - valuable only as tests, 121; - what counts in, 125; - what examinations should test, 44. - - - Fables, truth of, 21. - - Fielding, _Tom Jones_, 202. - - - Goldsmith, _Vicar of Wakefield_, 44, 56, 152. - - - Hawthorne, quoted, 167. - - _Heart of Oak Series_, 91. - - Honesty essential in teaching, 54. - - - Illustrations, care in using, 211. - - _Il Percone_, 32. - - Imagination essential in study of literature, 3; - not created but developed, 53; - nourished by literature, 26. - - Inspirational use of literature, 74, 88-95, 117, 236. - - Irving, _Life of Goldsmith_, 37. - - _Ivanhoe_, 37, 152; - quoted, 169; - study of, 159-163. - - - Johnson, Samuel, quoted, 91. - - "Juvenile" literature, 80. - - - Lamb, Charles, 234. - - Language of literature, 63-67, 118; - of pupils, 64, 68-70; - value judged by effect, 209. - - Life, "realities of," 20. - - Limitations, inevitable, 46-48; - must be accepted, 31, 196; - youthful, 240. - - Litchfield, Mary E., quoted, 77. - - Literature, a Fine Art, 53; - aim of, 85; - algebraic, 112; - approached through personal experience, 67, 69; - deals with abstract ideas, 67; - difficulty in teaching, 28-38; - defined by De Quincey, 123; - essentially human, 238; - history of, 40, 222; - "juvenile," 80, 239; - language of, 63-67, 118; - measured by life, 56; - must be connected with life, 68; - must be taught in language of learner, 68; - not didactic, 22, 109; - not taught by arbitrary methods, 238; - nourishes imagination, 26; - pupils indifferent to, 48; - relation to life, 110; - reproduces mood, 116; - symbolic, 113; - truth in, 112-114; - vocabulary of, 74; - why included in school course, 11-27. - _See_ Study of Literature; Teaching of Literature; Literary - Workmanship. - - Literary appreciation, may be unconscious, 93. - - Literary workmanship, 207-221. - - Longfellow, 83; - _Evangeline_, 42, 43, 45. - - - Macaulay, 211, 214; - _Life of Johnson_, 37; - _Milton_, 35, 36, 212, 213. - - _Macbeth_, 3, 5, 37, 40, 57, 69, 76, 77, 83, 85, 118, 124, 202; - false explanations of words in, 63; - Miss Cook on, 128; - note on, 32; - study of, 165-192. - - _Machiavellus_, 32. - - Memorizing, 191. - - _Merchant of Venice_, 6, 81, 118. - - Metrical effects, 116; - beyond ordinary students, 186; - children susceptible to, 117; - in _Evangeline_, 43; - relation to character, 119; - study of, 94; - _vs._ intellectual content, 216. - - Middleton, _Witch_, 32. - - Milton, 15, 53, 117, 220, 225; - _Comus_, 34, 85, 117, 228; - _Il Penseroso_, 34, 41, 190; - _L'Allegro_, 34, 41, 190; - _Lycidas_, 34, 117; - _Paradise Lost_, 123, 127, 131, 228. - - _Milton_, Macaulay's, 35, 36, 212, 213. - - Moral, drawn by children, 129; - not to be drawn by teacher, 71-73, 163, 164, 198; - skipped by children, 89. - - - North, _Plutarch's Lives_, 170. - - Notes, 75, 136; - to be studied first, 76. - - Novel, study of, 152-164. - - - _Œdipus_, 202. - - Oral recitation, 180, 184, 198. - - Originality in children, 43. - - - Parables, truth of, 21-22. - - Paraphrases, 219. - - Plutarch, 170. - - Poetry, compared with prose, 211-217; - nature of, 215. - - Point of departure, 83, 143. - - Point of view, 82, 149, 180. - - Pope, quoted, 211. - - Praise, not to be given beforehand, 70; - when wise, 71. - - Prose, compared with poetry, 212-217. - - - Quicken tree, 168. - - - Raleigh, 25, 26, 64, 215. - - Raphael, _Dresden Madonna_, 57. - - Ray, 168. - - Reading, aloud, 61, 154, 177; - final, of play, 186; - first, of play, 176-179; - in concert, 62; - intelligent, basis of study, 61-67; - second, of play, 179-186; - voluntary, 227-236. - - Readings, disputed, 185. - - Reference, books of, 136, 137. - - Rembrandt, 208; - _The Night Watch_, 57. - - Riche, Barnabie, quoted, 167. - - Ridicule, danger of, 230. - - Roosevelt, President, 57. - - - Sarcasm, forbidden, 199. - - Scott, _Ivanhoe_, 37, 152, 159-163, 169; - _Lady of the Lake_, 37. - - Shakespeare, 13, 16, 46, 47, 48, 49, 53, 57, 69, 72, 90, 117, 119, - 129, 142, 168, 170, 181, 183, 184, 186, 187, 191, 206, 211, - 212, 213, 225, 239; - _Hamlet_, 77, 127; - ill-judged notes on, 32; - _Julius Cæsar_, 34; - _Lear_, 168; - _Macbeth_, 3, 5, 32, 37, 40, 57, 63, 69, 76, 77, 83, 85, 118, 128, - 165-192, 202, 239; - _Merchant of Venice_, 6, 81, 118; - _Midsummer Night's Dream_, 32; - _Othello_, 83, 167; - quoted, 205; - reason of greatness unexplained, 55; - _Richard III_, 166; - _Romeo and Juliet_, 6; - _Tempest_, 118; - _Troilus and Cressida_, 239. - - _Silas Marner_, 5, 37, 56, 127, 152, 197; - note on, 32. - - _Sir Roger de Coverley Papers_, 128, 138; - study of, 146-150. - - _Speech on Conciliation_, 37, 65; - study of, 138-146. - - Stevenson, _Treasure Island_, 152-159. - - Swift, _A Modest Proposal_, 224. - - Study of literature, in lower grades, 30; - must be deliberate, 217; - not study about literature, 40; - not study of notes, 34; - object of, 27, 29, 31; - obstacles to to-day, 39-60; - overweighted with details, 187; - puzzling to students, 47, 48; - test of success in, 30; - used as gymnasium, 88. - - Summary, not a criticism, 204. - - Supernatural, the, 84; - in _Macbeth_, 181; - in _The Ancient Mariner_, 181. - - Superstition, about witch, 173; - about quicken tree, 168. - - Synthesis _vs._ analysis, 21. - - - Teacher asks too much, 41-46; - ignores strain on pupil, 80; - must have clear ideas, 27, 49, 149; - must take things as they are, 39; - not clear as to object, 49; - not equal to demands, 53-60; - obliged to do work of home, 227; - to lead, not to drive, 58. - - Teaching, helping to extend ideas, 210; - method in, 136, 224. - - Teaching of literature, aim of, 11-27, 69-70, 236; - cannot be done by rule, 86, 138; - choice of selections in, 90-92; - confused methods, 6; - deals with emotion, 2; - educational, 3, 74, 109-120; - examinational, 3, 74, 121-135; - fine passages taken up in, 80; - importance of reading aloud in, 61; - inspirational, 49, 74, 88-95, 117; - must be adapted to average mind, 89; - preliminary, 74-87; - uncertainty in, 1-10; - written work in, 126. - - Technique, instruction in. _See_ Workmanship, literary. - - Tennyson, 49; - _Elaine_, 37; - _Merlin and Vivian_, 170; - _Princess_, 37; - _Revenge_, 26, 215. - - Text, 136; - model, 137. - - Thoroughness, 119. - - Titian, 53, 208. - - Translating, effect of, 218. - - _Treasure Island_, study of, 152-159. - - Truth in literature, 112-114. - - - _Vicar of Wakefield_, 44, 56, 152. - - Vocabulary, growth of, 209; - Miss Litchfield's view, 77; - of Burke's _Speech_, 139; - of _Ivanhoe_, 160, 162; - of _Macbeth_, 165-171; - of prose, 137; - of _Sir Roger de Coverley_, 147; - of _Treasure Island_, 153, 155; - study of, 76-79, 125, 193; - to be learned first, 74, 110, n.; - to be learned from reference-books, 76. - - - Washington, George, 22. - - Words, value of, 16. - - Word-values, 17. - - Wordsworth, 49, 239; - _Lesson for Fathers_, 195. - - Workmanship, literary, 207-221. - - Written work, 126-130; - comparison in, 190; - description in, 127; - in study of _Macbeth_, 187-191; - supreme test in, 129. - - - The Riverside Press - - _Electrotyped and printed by H. O. Houghton & Co._ - - _Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A._ - - - - -TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES: - - -Variations in spelling and hyphenation remain as in the original. - -The following corrections have been made to the original text: - - Page 165: XIII[original has "XII"] - - Page 174: gnaw till the ship springs a leak[original has - "aleak"] - - Page 245, under "Examinations": best prepared for by broad - teaching, 122;[original has a comma] - - Page 247: Teaching of literature, aim of, 11-27, - 69-70,[original has a semi-colon] 236 - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Talks on Teaching Literature, by Arlo Bates - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALKS ON TEACHING LITERATURE *** - -***** This file should be named 50082-8.txt or 50082-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/0/8/50082/ - -Produced by Shaun Pinder, Lisa Reigel, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Talks on Teaching Literature - -Author: Arlo Bates - -Release Date: September 30, 2015 [EBook #50082] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALKS ON TEACHING LITERATURE *** - - - - -Produced by Shaun Pinder, Lisa Reigel, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /> -<p><!-- Page i --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p> -<p class="firsttitle">TALKS ON TEACHING<br /> -LITERATURE</p> -</div> - - -<p><!-- Page ii --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /> - -<p><!-- Page iii --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p> -<div class="title"> - <h1>TALKS ON TEACHING<br /> - LITERATURE</h1> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="tpauthor">BY<br /> - -ARLO BATES</p> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/colophon.jpg" width="153" height="200" alt="Riverside Press colophon" /> -</div> - - -<p class="tppublisher">BOSTON AND NEW YORK<br /> -<span class="biggertext">HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY</span><br /> -The Riverside Press, Cambridge<br /> -1906</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /> -<p><!-- Page iv --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></p> -</div> -<p class="copyright">COPYRIGHT 1906 BY ARLO BATES<br /> - -ALL RIGHTS RESERVED<br /> - -<i>Published October 1906</i></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /> -<p><!-- Page v --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p> -</div> -<p class="talks">These Talks are founded upon lectures delivered before the Summer -School of the University of Illinois in June, 1905. The interest which -was shown in the subject and in the views expressed encouraged me to -state rather more elaborately and in book form what I felt in regard to -a matter which is certainly of great importance, and concerning which -so many teachers are in doubt. I wish here to express my obligation to -Assistant-Professor Henry G. Pearson, who has very kindly gone over the -manuscript, and to whom I am indebted for suggestions of great value.</p> - -<p><!-- Page vi --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /> -<p><!-- Page vii --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - - -<table summary="Table of Contents" border="0"> - <tr> - <td class="tdright">I.</td> - <td class="tdleft">THE PROBLEM</td> - <td class="tdright"><a href="#Chapter_I">1</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdright">II.</td> - <td class="tdleft">THE CONDITIONS</td> - <td class="tdright"><a href="#Chapter_II">11</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdright">III.</td> - <td class="tdleft">SOME DIFFICULTIES</td> - <td class="tdright"><a href="#Chapter_III">28</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdright">IV.</td> - <td class="tdleft">OTHER OBSTACLES</td> - <td class="tdright"><a href="#Chapter_IV">39</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdright">V.</td> - <td class="tdleft">FOUNDATIONS OF WORK</td> - <td class="tdright"><a href="#Chapter_V">61</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdright">VI.</td> - <td class="tdleft">PRELIMINARY WORK</td> - <td class="tdright"><a href="#Chapter_VI">74</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdright">VII.</td> - <td class="tdleft"><span class="tablepad">THE INSPIRATIONAL USE OF LITERATURE</span></td> - <td class="tdright"><a href="#Chapter_VII">88</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdright">VIII.</td> - <td class="tdleft">AN ILLUSTRATION</td> - <td class="tdright"><a href="#Chapter_VIII">96</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdright">IX.</td> - <td class="tdleft">EDUCATIONAL</td> - <td class="tdright"><a href="#Chapter_IX">109</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdright">X.</td> - <td class="tdleft">EXAMINATIONAL</td> - <td class="tdright"><a href="#Chapter_X">121</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdright">XI.</td> - <td class="tdleft">THE STUDY OF PROSE</td> - <td class="tdright"><a href="#Chapter_XI">136</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdright">XII.</td> - <td class="tdleft">THE STUDY OF THE NOVEL</td> - <td class="tdright"><a href="#Chapter_XII">152</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdright">XIII.</td> - <td class="tdleft">THE STUDY OF <cite>MACBETH</cite></td> - <td class="tdright"><a href="#Chapter_XIII">165</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdright">XIV.</td> - <td class="tdleft">CRITICISM</td> - <td class="tdright"><a href="#Chapter_XIV">193</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdright">XV.</td> - <td class="tdleft">LITERARY WORKMANSHIP</td> - <td class="tdright"><a href="#Chapter_XV">207</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdright">XVI.</td> - <td class="tdleft">LITERARY BIOGRAPHY</td> - <td class="tdright"><a href="#Chapter_XVI">222</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdright">XVII.</td> - <td class="tdleft">VOLUNTARY READING</td> - <td class="tdright"><a href="#Chapter_XVII">227</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdright">XVIII.</td> - <td class="tdleft">IN GENERAL</td> - <td class="tdright"><a href="#Chapter_XVIII">237</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> </td> - <td class="tdleft">INDEX</td> - <td class="tdright"><a href="#INDEX">245</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p><!-- Page viii --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /> -<p><!-- Page 1 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> -<p class="firsttitle">TALKS ON TEACHING<br /> -LITERATURE</p> -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /> -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="Chapter_I" id="Chapter_I"></a>I<br /> - -<small>THE PROBLEM</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Few earnest teachers of literature have escaped those black moments -when it seems perfectly evident that the one thing sure in connection -with the whole business is that literature cannot be taught. If they -are of sensitive conscience they are likely to have wondered at times -whether it is honest to go on pretending to give instruction in a -branch in which instruction was so obviously impossible. The more -they consider, the more evident it is that if a pupil really learns -anything <em>in</em> literature,—as distinguished from learning <em>about</em> -literature,—he does it himself; and they cannot fail to see that as -an art literature necessarily partakes of the nature of all art, the -quality of being inexpressible and unexplainable in any language except -its own.</p> - -<p>The root of whatever difficulty exists in fulfilling the requirements -of modern courses of training which have to do with literature is just -this fact. Any art, as has been said often and often, exists simply and -solely because it embodies and conveys what can be adequately expressed -in no <!-- Page 2 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span>other form. A picture or a melody, a statue or a poem, gives -delight and inspiration by qualities which could belong to nothing -else. To teach painting or music or literature is at best to talk about -these qualities. Words cannot express what the work or art expresses, -or the work itself would be superfluous; and the teacher of literature -is therefore apparently confronted with the task of endeavoring to -impart what language itself cannot say.</p> - -<p>So stated the proposition seems self-contradictory and absurd. Indeed -it too often happens that in actual practice it is so. Teachers weary -their very souls in necessarily fruitless endeavors to achieve the -impossible, and fail in their work because they have not clearly -apprehended what they could effect and what they should endeavor to -effect. In any instruction it is of great importance to recognize -natural and inevitable limitations, and nowhere is this more true than -in any teaching which has to do with the fine arts. In other branches -failure to perceive the natural restrictions of the subject limits the -efficiency of the teacher; in the arts it not only utterly vitiates all -work, but it gives students a fundamentally wrong conception of the -very nature of that with which they are dealing.</p> - -<p>In most studies the teacher has to do chiefly with the understanding, -or, to put it more exactly, with the intellect of the pupil. In dealing -with literature he must reckon constantly with the emotions also. If -he cannot arouse the feelings and <!-- Page 3 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span>the imaginations of his students, -he does not succeed in his work. Not only is this difficult in itself, -but it calls for an emotional condition in the instructor which is -not easily combined with the didactic mood required by teaching; a -condition, moreover, which begets a sensitiveness to results much -more keen than any disappointment likely to be excited by failure to -carry a class triumphantly through a lesson in arithmetic or history. -This sensitiveness constantly brings discouragement, and this in turn -leads to renewed failure. In work which requires the happiest mood -on the part of the teacher and the freest play of the imagination, -the consciousness of any lack of success increases the difficulty a -hundredfold. The teacher who is able by sheer force of determination to -manage the stupidities of a dull algebra class, may fail signally in -the attempt to make the same force carry him through an unappreciated -exercise in "Macbeth." It is true that no teaching is effective unless -the interest as well as the attention of the pupils is enlisted; -but whereas in other branches this is a condition, in the case of -literature it is a prime essential.</p> - -<p>The teaching of literature, moreover, is less than useless if it is -not educational as distinguished from examinational. It is greatly to -be regretted that necessity compels the holding of examinations at -all in a subject of which the worth is to be measured strictly by the -extent to which it inspires the imagination and develops the character -<!-- Page 4 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>of the student. Any system of examinations is likely to be at best a -makeshift made inevitable by existing conditions, and it is rendered -tolerable only where teachers—often at the expense, under present -school methods, of a stress of body and of soul to be appreciated -only by those who have taught—are able to mingle a certain amount of -education with the grinding drill of routine work. Examination papers -hardly touch and can hardly show the results of literary training which -are the only excuse for the presence of this branch in the school -curriculum. Every faithful worker who is trying to do what is best for -the children while fulfilling the requirements of the official powers -above him is face to face with the fact that the tabulated returns of -intermediates and finals do not in the least represent his best or most -laboriously achieved success.</p> - -<p>Under these conditions it is not strange that so many teachers are at a -loss to know what they are expected to do or what they should attempt -to do. If the teachers in the secondary schools of this country were -brought together into some Palace of Truth where absolute honesty was -forced upon them, it would be interesting and perhaps saddening to -find how few could confidently assert that they have clear and logical -ideas in regard to the teaching of literature. They would all be able -to say that they dealt with certain specified books because such work -is a prominent part of the school requirement; and many would, unless -restrained by <!-- Page 5 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>the truth-compelling power of their environment, add -vague phrases about broadening the minds of the children. A pitiful -number would be forced to confess that they had no clear conception of -what they were to do beyond loading up the memories of the luckless -young folk with certain dead information about books to be unloaded at -the next examination, and there left forever. Too often "broadening the -mind" of the young is simple flattening it out by the dead weight of -lifeless and worthless fact.</p> - -<p>This uncertainty in regard to what they are to do and how they are -to do it is constantly evident in the complaints and inquiries of -teachers. "How would you teach 'Macbeth'?" one asked me. "Do you think -the sources of the plot should be thoroughly mastered?" Another wrote -me that she had always tried to make the moral lesson of "Silas Marner" -as clear and strong as possible, but that one of her boys had called -her attention to the fact that no question on such a matter had ever -appeared in the college entrance examination papers, and that she did -not know what to do. A third said frankly that she could never see -what there was in literature to teach, so she just took the questions -suggested by a text-book and confined her attention to them. If these -seem extreme cases, it is chiefly because they are put into words. -Certainly the number of instructors who are virtually in the position -of the third teacher is by no means small.</p> - -<p><!-- Page 6 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> -Even the editors of "school classics" are sometimes found to be no more -enlightened than those they profess to aid, and not infrequently seem -more anxious to have the appearance of doing a scholarly piece of work -than one fitted for actual use. The devices they recommend for fixing -the attention and enlightening the darkness of children in literary -study are numerous; but not infrequently they are either ludicrous or -pathetic. A striking example is that conspicuously futile method, the -use of symbolic diagrams. The attempt to represent the poetry, the -pathos, the passion of "The Merchant of Venice" or "Romeo and Juliet" -by a diagram like a proposition in geometry seems to me not only the -height of absurdity, but not a little profane. I have examined these -cryptic combinations of lines, tangents, triangles, and circles, -with more bewilderment than comprehension, I confess; generally with -irritation; and always with the profound conviction that they could -hardly be surpassed as a means of producing confusion worse confounded -in the mind of any child whatever. Other schemes are only less wild, -and while excellent and helpful text-books are not wanting, not a -few show evidence that the writers were as little sure of what they -were trying to effect, or of how it were best effected, as the most -bewildered teacher who might unadvisedly come to them for enlightenment.</p> - -<p>Instruction in literature as it exists to-day in the common schools of -this country is almost <!-- Page 7 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>always painstaking and conscientious; but it is -by no means always intelligent. The teachers who resort to diagrams are -sincerely in earnest, and no less faithful are those who at the expense -of most exhausting labor are dragging classes through the morass of -questions suggested by the least desirable of school editions of -college requirements. They dose their pupils with notes as Mrs. Squeers -dosed the poor wretches at Dotheboys Hall with brimstone and treacle. -The result is much the same in both cases.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>"Oh! Nonsense," rejoined Mrs. Squeers. . . . "They have brimstone -and treacle, partly because if they hadn't something or other -in the way of medicine they'd be always . . . giving a world of -trouble, and partly because it spoils their appetites, and -comes cheaper than breakfast and dinner."</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Certainly any child, no matter how great his natural appetite for -literature, must find the desire greatly diminished after a dose of -text-book notes.</p> - -<p>The difficulties of teachers in handling this branch of instruction -have been increased by the system under which work must be carried -on. The tremendous problem of educating children in masses has yet -to be solved, and it is at least doubtful if it can be worked out -successfully without a very substantial diminution of the requirements -now insisted upon. Certainly it is hardly conceivable that with the -curriculum as crowded as it is at present any teacher could do much -in the common schools with the teaching of literature. <!-- Page 8 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>The pedagogic -committees who have fixed the college entrance requirements, moreover, -seem to have acted largely along conventional lines. In the third -place the spirit of the time is out of sympathy with art, and the -variety and insistence of outside calls on the attention and interest -of the children make demands so great as to leave the mind dull to -finer impressions. To the boy eager over football, the circus, and -the automobile race he is to see when school is out, even an inspired -teacher may talk in vain about Dr. Primrose, Lady Macbeth, or any other -of the immortals. Ears accustomed to the strident measures of the -modern street-song are not easily beguiled by the music of Milton, and -yet the teacher of to-day is expected to persuade his flock that they -should prefer "L'Allegro" to the vulgar but rollicking "rag-time" comic -songs of dime-museum and alley. Under circumstances so adverse, it is -not to be wondered at that teachers are not only discouraged but often -bewildered.</p> - -<p>What happens in many cases is sufficiently well shown by this extract -from a freshman composition, in which the writer frankly gives an -account of his training in English literature in a high school not -twenty-five miles from Boston:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>Very special attention was paid to the instruction of the -classics as to what the examinations require. As closely as -possible the faculty determine the scope of the examinations, -and the class is drilled in that work especially. Examination -papers are procured for <!-- Page 9 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>several years back, and are given -to the students as regular high school examinations, and -as samples of the kind of questions to be expected. The -instructors notice especial questions that are often repeated -in examination papers, warn the pupils of them, and even go so -far as to estimate when the question will be used again. I have -heard in the classroom, "This question was given three years -ago, and it is about due again. They ask it every three or four -years."</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Another boy wrote, in the same set of themes, that he had taken the -examination in the autumn, and added:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>On the June examinations I noticed that there was nothing about -Milton, so I studied Milton with heart and soul.</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Here we find stated plainly what everybody connected with teaching -knows to be common, and indeed what under the present system is almost -inevitable. I know of many schools of no inconsiderable standing where -in all branches old examination papers, if not used as the text-books, -are at least the actual guide to all work done in the last year of -fitting for college. This is perhaps only human, and it is easy to -understand; but it certainly is not education, and of that fact both -students and teachers are entirely well aware. All this I say with -no intention of blaming anybody for what is the result of difficult -conditions. It is not well, however, to ignore what is perfectly well -known, and what is one of the important difficulties of the situation.</p> - -<p><!-- Page 10 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -The problem, then, which confronts the teacher in the secondary school -is twofold. He has to decide in the first place what the teaching of -literature can and should legitimately accomplish, and in the second, -by what means this may most surely and effectively be done. In a word, -although work in this line has been going on multitudinously and -confusedly for years, we are yet far from sufficiently definite ideas -why and how literature should be taught to children.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /> -<p><!-- Page 11 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="Chapter_II" id="Chapter_II"></a>II<br /> - -<small>THE CONDITIONS</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The inclusion of literature in the list of common school studies, -however the original intent may have been lost sight of, was -undoubtedly made in the interest of general culture. It is not certain -that those who put it in had definite conceptions of methods or -results, but unquestionably their idea was to aid the development of -the children's minds by helping them to appreciate and to assimilate -thoughts of nobility and of beauty, and by fostering a love for -literature which should lead them to go on acquiring these from the -masterpieces. How clear and well defined in the minds of educators -this idea was it is needless to inquire. It is enough that it was -undoubtedly sincere, and that it was founded on a genuine faith in the -broadening and elevating influence of art.</p> - -<p>The importance of literature as a means of mental development used to -be taken for granted. Our fathers and grandfathers had for the classics -a reverence which the rising generation looks back to as a phase of -antiquated superstition, hardly more reasonable than the worship of -sacred wells or a belief in goblins. So much stress is now laid -<!-- Page 12 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>upon the tangible and the material as the only genuine values, that -everything less obvious is discredited. The tendency is to take only -direct results into consideration; and influences which serve rather to -elevate character than to aid in money-getting are at best looked upon -with toleration.</p> - -<p>That sense of mankind, however, which depends upon the perception of -the few, and which in the long run forms the opinion of society in -spite of everything, holds still to the importance of literature in any -intelligent scheme of education. The popular disbelief makes enormously -difficult the work of the teacher, but the force of the conviction -of the wise minority keeps this branch in the schools. The sincere -teacher, therefore, naturally tries to analyze effects, and to discern -possibilities, in order to discover upon what facts the belief in the -educational value of the study of literature properly rests.</p> - -<p>The most obvious reasons for the study of literature may be quickly -disposed of. It is well for a student to be reasonably familiar with -the history of literature, with the names and periods of great writers. -This adds to his chances of appearing to advantage in the world, -and especially in that portion of society where he can least afford -to be at a disadvantage. He is provided with facts about books and -authors quite as much to protect him from the ill effects of appearing -ignorant as for any direct influence this knowledge will have on his -mind. Whatever the tendency of the times to <!-- Page 13 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>undervalue in daily -life acquaintance with the more refined side of human knowledge, the -fact remains that to betray ignorance in these lines may bring real -harm to a person's social standing. Every one recognizes that among -educated people a lad is better able to make his way if he does not -confound the age of Shakespeare with that of Browning, and if he is -able to distinguish between Edmund Spenser and Herbert Spencer. Such -information may not be specially vital, but it is worth possessing.</p> - -<p>Considerations of this sort, however, are evidently not of weight -enough to account for the place of the study in the schools, and still -less to excuse the amount of time and attention bestowed upon it. The -same line of reasoning would defend the introduction of dancing, because</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">Those move easiest who have learned to dance.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">More important and more far-reaching reasons must be found to satisfy -the teacher, and to hearten him for the severe labor of working with -class after class in the effort, not always successful, of arousing -interest and enthusiasm over the writings which go by the name of -English Classics. Some of these I may specify briefly. To deal with -them exhaustively would take a book in itself, and would leave no room -for the consideration of methods.</p> - -<p>A careful and intelligent study of masterpieces of prose or verse, -the teacher soon perceives, must <!-- Page 14 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>develop greatly the student's sense -of the value of words. This is not the highest function of this work, -but it is by no means one to be despised. Literary study affords -opportunities for training of this sort which are not to be found -elsewhere; and a sensitiveness to word-values is with a child the -beginning of wisdom.</p> - -<p>Children too often acquire and adults follow the habit of accepting -words instead of ideas. A genuine appreciation of the worth of language -is after all the chief outward sign of the distinction between the wise -man and the dullard. One is content to receive speech as sterling coin, -and the other perceives that words are but counters. If students could -but appreciate the difference between apprehending and comprehending -what they are taught, between learning words and assimilating ideas, -the intellectual millennium would be at hand. Children need to learn -that the sentence is after all only the envelope, only the vehicle for -the thought. Everybody agrees to this theoretically, but practically -the fact is generally ignored. The child is father to the man in -nothing else more surely than in the trait of accepting in perfect good -faith empty words as complete and satisfactory in themselves. The habit -of being content with phrases once bred into a child can be eradicated -by nothing short of severe intellectual surgery.</p> - -<p>To say that words are received as sufficient in themselves and not as -conveying ideas sounds like a paradox; but there are few of us who -may not at <!-- Page 15 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>once make a personal application and find an illustration -in the common phrases and formulas of our life. Perhaps none of us -are free from the fault of sometimes substituting empty phrases for -vital rules of conduct. The most simple and the most tremendous -facts of human life are often known only as lifeless statements -rather than realized as vibrant truths. With children the language -of text-book or classroom is so likely to be repeated by rote and -remembered mechanically that constant vigilance on the part of the -teacher can hardly overcome the evil. Force the boy who on the college -entrance examination paper writes fluently that "Milton is the poet -of sublimity" to try to define, even to himself, what the statement -means, and the result is confusion. He meant nothing. He had the words, -but they had never conveyed to him a thought. Language should be the -servant of the mind, but never was servant that so constantly and so -successfully usurped the place of master.</p> - -<p>Children must be taught, and taught not simply by precept but by -experience, to realize that the value of the word lies solely in its -efficiency as a vehicle of thought. They must learn to appreciate as -well as to know mechanically that language is to be estimated by its -effect in communicating the idea, and that to be satisfied with words -for themselves is obvious folly. For enforcing this fact literature is -especially valuable. It is hardly possible in even the most superficial -work on a play of <!-- Page 16 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>Shakespeare, for instance, for the reader to fail -to perceive how the idea burns through the word, how wide is the -difference between the mere apprehension of the language and the -comprehension of the poet's meaning. In the study of great poetry the -impossibility of resting satisfied with anything short of the ideas is -so strongly brought out that it cannot be ignored or forgotten; and in -this way pupils are impressed with the value of words.</p> - -<p>This sensitiveness to the value of words in general is closely coupled -with an appreciation of the force of words in particular, of what may -be called word-values. The power of appreciating that a word is merely -a messenger bringing an idea, is naturally connected with the ability -to distinguish with exactness the nature and the value of the thought -which the messenger presents. To feel the need of knowing clearly and -surely the thought expressed inevitably leads to precision and delicacy -in distinguishing the significance and force of language. When once a -child appreciates the difference between the accepting of what he reads -vaguely or mechanically and the getting from it its full meaning, he -is eager to have it all; he finds delight in the intellectual exercise -of searching out each hidden suggestion and in the sense of possession -which belongs to achieving the thought of the master. It is not to be -expected that our pupils shall be able to receive in its full richness -the deepest thought of the poets, but they none the less find delight -in possessing it to the extent <!-- Page 17 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>of their abilities. The point is too -obvious to need expansion; but every instructor will recognize its -great importance.</p> - -<p>Obvious as is this importance of the sense of the value of words and -a sensitiveness to word-values, it is not infrequently overlooked. -Teachers see the need of a knowledge of the meaning of terms and -phrases in a particular selection without stopping to think of the -prime value of the principle involved, or indeed that a general -principle is involved at all. Still more often they fail to perceive -all that logically follows. In exact, vital realization of the full -force of language lies the secret of sharing the wisdom of the ages. If -students can be trained to penetrate through the word of the printed -page to the thought, they are brought into communication with the -master-minds of the race. It is not learning to read in the common, -primary acceptation of the term that opens for the young the thought -of the race; but learning to read in the higher and deeper sense of -receiving the word only as a symbol behind and beyond which the thought -lies concealed from the ordinary and superficial reader.</p> - -<p>Most of all is it the business of the young to learn about life. -Whatever does not tend, directly or indirectly, to make the child -better acquainted with the world he has come into, with how he must -and how he should bear himself under its complex conditions, is of -small value as far as education goes. Of rules for conduct he is given -plenty as <!-- Page 18 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>to matters of morality and of religion. Moral laws and -religious precepts are good, and could they accomplish all that is -sometimes expected of them, life would quickly be a different matter, -and teachers would find themselves living in an earthly paradise. -Unhappily these excellent maxims effect in actual life far less than -is to be desired. Not infrequently the urchin who has been stuffed -with moral admonitions as a doll with sawdust shows in his conduct -no regard for them other than a fine zeal in scorning them. Children -are seldom much affected by explicit directions in regard to conduct. -They must be reached by indirection, and they are moulded less by what -they recognize as intentionally wise views of life than by those which -they receive unconsciously. The more just these unrecognized ideas -of themselves and of the world are, the greater is the chance that -they will develop a character well balanced and well adjusted to the -conditions of human life.</p> - -<p>Children live in a world largely made up of half-perceptions, of -misunderstandings, and of dreams; a world pathetically full of guesses. -They must depend largely upon appearances, and constantly confound -what seems with what really is. They learn but slowly, however, to -shape their beliefs or their emotions by conventionality. They do not -easily acquire the vice of accepting shams because some authority has -endorsed these. All of us are likely to have had queerly uncomfortable -moments when we have found ourselves confounded and reproved by -<!-- Page 19 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>the unflinching honesty of the child; and we have been forced to -confess, at least to ourselves, that much of our admiration is mere -affectation, many of our professions unadulterated truckling to some -authority in which after all we have little real faith. Children are -naturally too unsophisticated for self-deception of this sort. They -confound substance and shadow, but they do it in good faith and with -no affectations. They are therefore at the place where they most need -sound and sure help to apprehend and to comprehend those things which -their elders call the realities of life.</p> - -<p>What human nature and human life are like is learned most quickly -and most surely from the best literature. The outward, the evident -conditions of society and of humanity may perhaps be best obtained by -children from the events of every-day existence; but in all that goes -deeper the wisdom of great writers is the surest guide.</p> - -<p>On the face of it such a proposition may not seem self-evident, -and to not a few teachers it is likely to appear a little absurd. -Children, it is evident, learn the realities of life by living. They -perceive physical truth by the persuasive force of actual experience: -by tumbling down and bumping their precious noses; by unmistakably -impressive contact with the fist of a pugnacious school-fellow; by -being hungry or uncomfortably stuffed with Thanksgiving turkey; by -heat and by cold, by sweets or by sours, by hardness or by softness. -Certainly through such means as these the child <!-- Page 20 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>gains knowledge and -develops mentally; but the process is inevitably slow. Most of all -is the growth in the youthful mind of general deductions and the -perception of underlying principles extremely gradual. He does not -learn quickly enough that certain lines of conduct are likely to lead -to unfortunate ends. Even when this is grasped, he has not come to -appreciate what human laws underlie the whole matter; nor is he in the -least likely to realize them so fully as to shape by them his conduct -in the steadily more and more complicated affairs of life.</p> - -<p>The small boy learns the wisdom of moderation from the stomach-ache -which follows too much plum-pudding or too many green apples—if the -pain is often enough repeated. The matter, however, is apt to present -itself to his mind as a sort of tacit bargain between himself and Fate: -so many green apples, so much stomach-ache; so much self-indulgence and -so much pain, and the account is balanced. Life is not so simple as -this; and that Fate does not make bargains so direct is learned from -experience so gradually as often to be learned too late. To tell this -to a child is of very little effect; for even if he believes it with -his childish intelligence, he can hardly feel the intimate links which -bind all humanity together, and make him subject to the same conditions -that rule his elders and instructors.</p> - -<p>The phrase "realities of life," moreover, includes not only -sensible—that is, material<!-- Page 21 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>—facts and conditions, but the more subtle -things of inner existence. A hundred persons are able to gather facts, -while very few are capable of drawing from them adequate conclusions -or of perceiving how one truth bears upon another. A very moderate -degree of intelligence is required for analysis as compared to that -necessary for synthesis. The power "to put two and two together," as -the common phrase has it, grows slowly in the mind of a child. Within -a limited range children appreciate that one fact is somehow joined to -another; and indeed the education which life gives consists chiefly in -expanding this perception. The connection between touching a hot coal -and being burned brings home the plain physical relations early. The -connection between disobedience and unpleasant consequences will be -borne in upon the youthful consciousness according to the sharpness -of discipline by which it is enforced; and so on to the end of the -chapter. To perceive a relation and to appreciate what that relation -is are, however, different matters. The understanding of the nature -of breaking rules and suffering in consequence involves a perception -of underlying principle, and some comprehension of the real nature of -these principles.</p> - -<p>The part which literature may play in giving children, and for that -matter their elders, a vivid perception of moral laws is shown by the -use which has been made of fables and moral tales. The parables of -Scripture illustrate the point. Of the <!-- Page 22 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>habit of making literature -directly a vehicle for moral instruction by the drawing of morals I -shall have something to say later; but the extent to which this has -been done at least serves here to make clearer what we mean by saying -that in this study the child learns general principles and their -relation. The small child, for instance, who is told in tender years -that ingeniously virtuous fable which relates the heroic doings of -little George Washington and his immortal hatchet, gets some idea of a -connection between virtue and joy in the abstract. A notion faint, but -none the less genuine, remains in his mind that some real connection -exists between truth and desirability; and the same sort of thing holds -true in cases where the teaching is less directly didactic.</p> - -<p>The directly didactic is likely to be most in evidence in the training -of children, and so affords convenient illustration of the illuminating -effect of literature on young minds. Despite the fact that I disbelieve -in reading into any tale or poem a moral which is not expressly put -there by the author, and that I hold more strongly yet to the belief -that the most marked and most lasting effects of imaginative work are -indirect, I am not without a perception of the value at a certain stage -of human development of the direct moral of the fable and the improving -tale. A small lad of ten within the range of my observation, upon whom -had been lavished an abundance, and perhaps even a superabundance, of -moral precept, astonished and <!-- Page 23 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>disconcerted his mother by remarking -with delightful naïveté that he had at school been reading "The Little -Merchant," in Miss Edgeworth's "Parents' Assistant," and that from it -he had learned how mean and foolish it is to lie. "But, my dear boy," -the mother cried in dismay, "I've been telling you that ever since -you were born!" "Oh, well," responded the lad, with the unconsciously -brutal frankness of his years, "but that never interested me." The -obvious moral teaching that had made no impression when offered as a -bare precept had been effective to him when presented as an appeal to -his feeling.</p> - -<p>Through imaginative literature abstract truths are made to have for -the child a reality which is given to them by the experiences of daily -life only by the slowest of degrees. Children rarely generalize, -except in matters of personal feeling and in the regions of general -misapprehension. A child easily receives the fact of the moment for a -truth of all time: if he is miserable, for instance, he is very apt to -feel that he must always be in that doleful condition; but this is in -no real sense a generalization. It is more than half self-deception. -Any child, however, who has been thrilled by a single line of -imaginative poetry has—even if unconsciously—come into direct touch -with a wide and humanly universal truth.</p> - -<p>Especially and essentially is this to be said of truth which has to do -with human feeling, the universal truth of the emotions. The man or -the <!-- Page 24 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>woman into whom the school-boy or girl is to grow will in shaping -life be guided chiefly by the feelings. Whether the ordinary mortal -lives well or ill, basely or nobly, dully or vividly, is practically -determined by what he feels. However much the convictions have to do -in ordering conduct, feeling has more, and conviction itself is with -most mortals inseparably bound up with the emotions. The highest office -of education is to develop the emotions highly and nobly; and it is no -less essential to the intellectual than to the moral well-being of the -child that he be bred to feel as deeply and as wholesomely as possible. -Every teacher knows that in dealing with children the ultimate appeal -is to their feelings. If a crisis arises in school-life it is to the -emotions that the matter is inevitably referred, whether the instructor -likes this or not, and whether the appeal is made openly or is indirect -and tacit. Teaching must deal with the sentiments as well as with the -understanding. That no other means of training and properly developing -the feelings of youth is so efficient as literature seems to me a -proposition too self-evident to need further comment.</p> - -<p>Enthusiasm is so closely connected with the cultivation and training -of the emotions that it is not easy to draw a line between them. While -there is certainly no need to enlarge here upon the worth of enthusiasm -in education or in life, or upon literature as a means of arousing it, -it is worth while to emphasize the extent to which the mind of <!-- Page 25 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>youth -may be affected by enthusiasm. The effects are naturally often so -indirect or intangible as not to be easily measured, but often, too, -they are direct and practical. Some years ago in a country school in -eastern Maine was still paramount the old-time Greenleaf's "Arithmetic" -which we elders remember with mixed feelings. The law of education -in those days, when children were still expected to do things which -were mapped out for them and to follow a course of study whether it -chanced to please their individual fancy or not, enforced the mastering -of everything in the text-book, even to sundry weird processes with -queer names such as "Alligation Alternate" and the like. The teacher -of this particular school, a plucky morsel of New England womanhood, -not much bigger than a chickadee, set herself resolutely to carry -through the arithmetic a class of farmer lads, better at the plow than -in mathematics. What happened she told me twenty-five years ago, and -I am still able to call up the vision of the air half of defiance, -half of amusement with which she said: "The boys were in a perfectly -hopeless muddle. I had explained and explained, until I wished I could -either cry like a woman or be a man and swear! The third day I had -an inspiration. In the very middle of the recitation, I told them to -shut up their books, and I cleaned every mark of the lesson off of -the blackboard. Then without a word of explanation I began to tell -them a little about the pamphlet Sir Walter <!-- Page 26 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>Raleigh wrote about the -'Revenge;' and then I began to recite Tennyson's ballad—which was new -then. I was wrought up to the very top-notch anyway, and I just gave -that ballad for all there was in me. They were dazed a minute, and -then they pricked up their ears, their eyes began to shine, and I had -them. We kindled each other, and by the time I got through the tears -were running down my cheeks for simple excitement. When I got to the -end, you could just feel the hush. Then I told them to go outdoors and -snow-ball for ten minutes, and then to come in and conquer that lesson. -They were great, rough farmer boys, you understand; but the moment they -were outside, they gave a cheer, just to express things they couldn't -have put into words. When they came in they were alive to the ends of -their fingers, and we went over that old Alligation with a perfect -rush." This sort of thing would not be possible anywhere outside of the -old-fashioned country school, but it is a capital illustration of the -way in which poetry may stir the enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>More valuable still, because at once deeper and most lasting, is the -effect of literature in nourishing imagination. The real progress which -children make in education—the assimilation of the knowledge which -they receive—depends largely upon this power. In many branches of -study this is easily evident. What a child actually knows of geography -or of history obviously depends upon the extent to which his mind is -able to make real <!-- Page 27 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>places or events remote in space or in time. The -same is true of those studies where the fact is not so evident; and it -is hardly too much to say that the advance of any student in higher -education is measured by the development of his imagination.</p> - -<p>The teacher of literature in the secondary schools, then, is to -consider that although his work is primarily done as a part of the -school requirement, he need not be without some clear and deliberate -intention in regard to the permanent effect upon the education and -so upon the character of the pupil. He may treat the getting of his -charges through the examinations as a purely secondary matter; a -matter, moreover, which is practically sure to be accomplished if the -greater and better purposes of the study have been secured. Besides a -general knowledge of literary history, the student should gain from -his training in the secondary school a vivid sense of the importance -and value of words; an appreciation of word-values as shown in actual -use by the masters; should increase in knowledge of life, and as it -were gain experience vicariously, so as to advance in perception of -intellectual and moral values; should be advanced in the control of -the feelings; in enthusiasm; and in the development of that noblest of -faculties, the imagination.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /> -<p><!-- Page 28 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="Chapter_III" id="Chapter_III"></a>III<br /> - -<small>SOME DIFFICULTIES</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>To deal clearly with the work of teaching, it is first of all essential -to deal frankly. In order that suggestions in regard to instruction -in literature may be of practical value, we must be entirely honest -in admitting and in facing whatever difficulties lie in the way and -whatever limitations are imposed by the conditions under which the work -is done.</p> - -<p>As things are at present arranged, an instructor, it seems not unjust -to say, must decide how far he is able to mingle genuine education with -the routine work which the system imposes upon him. If he has not the -power to settle this question, or if he is lacking in the disposition -to propose the question to himself, his labor is inevitably confined -chiefly to routine. His students are turned out examination-perfect, -it may be, but with minds as fatally cramped and checked as the feet -of a Chinese lady. If literature has a high and important function in -education, the teacher must consider deeply both what that function is -and how he is best to develop it.</p> - -<p>The failure on the part of instructors to do this makes much of the -work done in the secondary <!-- Page 29 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>grades so mechanical as to be of the -smallest possible use so far as the expansion of the mind and of -the character of children is concerned. For a pupil in the lower -grades the first purpose of any and of all school-work should be -to teach him to use his mind,—to think. The actual acquirement of -facts is of importance really slight as compared to the value of -this. If at twelve he knows how to read and to write, is sound on the -multiplication-table, is familiar with the outlines of grammar and the -broadest divisions of geography, yet is accustomed to think for himself -in regard to the facts which he perceives from life or receives from -books, he may be regarded as admirably well on in the education which -he is to gain from the schools. Indeed, if he have learned to think, -he is excellently started even if he have accomplished nothing further -than simply to read and to write.</p> - -<p>In these years of child-life the study of literature can legitimately -have but two objects: it may and should minister to the delight of -youth, that so the taste for good books be fostered and as it were -inbred; and it should nourish the power of thinking. Whatever is beyond -this has no place in the lower grades, and personally I am entirely -free to say that much that is now called "the study of literature" is -the sort of elaborate work which belongs in the college or nowhere. -Few students are qualified to "study"—as the term is commonly -interpreted—literature until they are advanced further than the boys -and girls admitted to <!-- Page 30 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>our high schools; further, indeed, than many who -are allowed to enter the universities. The great majority of those who -grind laboriously through the college entrance requirements in English -are utterly unequal to the work and get from it little of value and a -good deal of harm.</p> - -<p>What should be done in the lower grades, and usually all that can -with profit be attempted in the secondary schools anywhere, is to -cultivate in the children a love of literature and some appreciation -of it: appreciation intelligent, I mean, but not analytic. I would -have the secondary schools do little with the history of authors, -less with the criticism of style, and have no more explanation of -difficulties of language and of structure than is necessary for the -student's enjoyment. In a time when the draughts made by daily life -upon the attention of the young are so tremendous, when the pressure -of the more immediately practical branches of instruction is so great, -to add drudgery in connection with literature seems to me completely -futile and doubly wrong. The supreme test of success in whatever work -in literature is done in schools of the secondary grades should be, -according to my conviction, whether it has given delight, has fostered -a love of whatever is best in imaginative writings and in life.</p> - -<p>The natural abilities of children differ widely, and perhaps more -difference still is made by the home influences in which they pass -their earliest years. What should be done in the nursery can <!-- Page 31 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>never be -fully made up in the school, and what should be breathed in from an -atmosphere of cultivation can never be imparted by instruction. It is -manifestly impossible to interest all in the artistic side of life to -the same extent, just as it is idle to hope to teach all to draw with -equal skill. This does not alter the direction of effort. The teacher -must recognize and accept natural limitations, but not on that account -be satisfied with aiming at less admirable results.</p> - -<p>Whatever are the conditions, it is possible to do something to -foster a love of what is really good in literature, and to avoid the -substitution of formal drill in the history of authors, the study of -conundrums concerning the sources of plots, the meaning of obsolete -words, and like pedantic pedagogics, for the friendly and vital study -of what should be a warm, live topic. If young folk can be made really -to care for good books, not only is substantial and lasting good -gained, but most that is now attempted is more surely secured. William -Blake declares that the truth can never be told so as to be understood -and not be believed. In the same way it may be said that if children -can be trained to recognize the characteristics of good literature, -they are sure, in nine cases out of ten at least, to care for it.</p> - -<p>This is the work which properly belongs to the secondary schools; and -it is quite as much as they can be expected to do even up to the close -of the high school course. I am personally unable to see <!-- Page 32 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>what good -is accomplished by taking any body of school-children that ever came -under my own observation,—and the question must be judged by personal -experience,—and drilling them in such matters as the following. I have -taken these notes almost at random from approved school editions of the -classics, and they seem to me to be fairly representative.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>Some striking resemblances in the incantation scenes in -"Macbeth" and Middleton's "Witch" have led to a somewhat -generally accepted belief that Thomas Middleton was answerable -for the alleged un-Shakespearean portions of "Macbeth."</p> -</div> - -<hr class="bqthoughtbreak" /> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>Shakespeare's indebtedness in "Midsummer's Night's Dream" to -"Il Percone" admits of no dispute.</p> - -<p>The incident of a Jew whetting his knife like Shylock occurs in -a Latin play, "Machiavellus," performed at St. John's College, -Cambridge, at Christmas, 1597.</p></div> - -<p>The opening note in a popular edition of "Silas Marner" is a comment -upon this passage:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>The questionable sound of Silas's loom, so unlike the natural, -cheerful trotting of the winnowing-machine, or the simple -rhythm of the flail, had a half-fearful fascination for the -Raveloe boys.</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">The note reads as follows:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>The hand-loom, once found in every village and hamlet, was -controlled by the action of the feet on the treadles, and -worked by the hands. A figure representing the parts may -be found in "Johnson's Cyclopædia." The longer article on -"Weaving" in the "Encyclopædia Britannica" may also be -consulted. The rattle of <!-- Page 33 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>the loom was in direct contrast -to the "cheerful trotting" of the winnowing-machine—an -old-fashioned hand-machine for separating the chaff from the -grain by means of wind produced by revolving fans. The flail, -still in common use for threshing grain by hand, consists of a -wooden staff or handle, hung on a club called a swiple, so as -to turn easily.</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">If the end of the study of fiction is the acquirement of dry facts, -this note may pass. I have purposely selected an example which is not -worse than the average, and which may perhaps be supposed to have an -excuse in the consideration that so many readers may be ignorant of all -the contrivances mentioned; but can any person with a sense of humor -suppose that a real boy is to get any proper enjoyment out of a story -when he is at the outset asked to consult a couple of cyclopædias, and -is interrupted in his reading by comments of this sort? The real point -of the passage, moreover,—the literary significance,—the fact that -the boys of Raveloe heard the winnowing-machine and threshing-flail -daily, and so were attracted by the novelty of Marner's weaving, with -the use of this by George Eliot to emphasize the weaver's isolation in -the neighborhood, is left utterly unnoticed.</p> - -<p>Were it worth while, I could give from text-books in general use -examples more unsatisfactory than these; but this is a fair sample of -the things which are administered to pupils in the name of literary -study. The students are not interested in <!-- Page 34 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>these details; and I am -inclined to believe that most of the teachers who mistakenly feel -obliged to drill classes in them could not honestly say that they -themselves care a fig for such barren facts. It is no wonder that out -of the school course young folk so often get the notion that literature -is dull. In a recent entrance paper a boy wrote as follows:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>I could never understand why so much time has to be given in -school to old books just because they have been known a long -time. It would be better if we could have given the time to -something useful.</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">He said what many boys feel, and what not a few of them have thought -out frankly to themselves, although perhaps few would express it so -squarely. If the study of literature means no more than is represented -by work on notes and the history of books and authors, I most fully -agree with him.</p> - -<p>Some of the books at present included in the college entrance -requirement, it must be added, lend themselves too much to -unintelligent pedantry. Undoubtedly much thought has been given to the -selection, although perhaps less sympathetic consideration of child -nature. The result is not in all cases satisfactory. To foster a taste -for poetry a teacher may, it is true, do much with "Julius Cæsar," -but I have yet to see the class of undergraduates with which I should -personally hope to arouse enthusiasm with "L'Allegro," "Il Penseroso," -"Lycidas," or "Comus." I may be simply confessing my own limitations, -but I should <!-- Page 35 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>think all of these poems, magnificent in themselves, -hardly fitted for the boys and girls who are found in our public -schools. I have extracted from more than one teacher a confession of -entire inability to take pleasure in the Milton which they assure their -pupils is beautiful; and while this is an arraignment of instructors -rather than of the works, it is significant of the attitude the honest -minds of children are likely to take.</p> - -<p>By way of making things worse, scholars are drilled in Macaulay's -"Milton."<a name="FNanchor_35:1_1" id="FNanchor_35:1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_35:1_1" class="fnanchor">[35:1]</a> The inclusion of this essay, the product of the -author's 'prentice hand, is most lamentable. The philistinism of -Macaulay is here rampant; and the one thing which students are sure -to get from the essay is the conception that poetry is the product -of barbarism, to be outgrown and cast aside when civilization is -sufficiently advanced. Again and again in entrance examinations and -in second-year notebooks, I have found this idea expressed. It is not -only the one thing which survives out of the essay, but is often the -one conviction in regard to literature which has survived examinations -as the result of the study of the entire entrance requirement. In the -entrance paper of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology for last -year (1905), I had put a question in regard to the difference <!-- Page 36 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>between -poetry and prose. From the replies I have taken a few of the many -echoes from the study of the "Milton."</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>Macaulay claims that the uncivilized alone care for poetry.</p> - -<p>I agree with Macaulay that prose is the product of -civilization, . . . while poetry was the way the ancients -expressed themselves.</p> - -<p>Poetry is not being written nearly so much now as in the Dark -Ages, simply because men are learning to treat subjects in -classes.</p> - -<p>Macaulay says that the writer of a great poem must have a -certain unsoundness of mind, and Carlyle makes the statement -that to be a great poet a man must first be as a little child. -If these opinions are just, one would think poetry could not be -regarded as of a quality equal to prose works.</p> - -<p>Poetry came first in the lapse of time, and as people grew more -civilized, as their education grew higher, they wrote in prose.</p></div> - -<p>Obviously these extracts hardly do justice to the views of Macaulay, -but it is evidently absurd to try to interest pupils in poetry when -they are getting from one of the works selected "for careful study" the -idea that the poet is a semi-madman practicing one of the habits of a -half-civilized race!<a name="FNanchor_36:1_2" id="FNanchor_36:1_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_36:1_2" class="fnanchor">[36:1]</a></p> - -<p>Fortunately much of the reading is better, although in effect the books -are sometimes limited by the difficulty of keeping the interest of -children <!-- Page 37 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>up for the long poem. The inclusion in the list of "Elaine" -and "The Lady of the Lake" of course presupposes on the part of the -pupil familiarity in the lower grades with lyrics and brief narrative -poems; and in many cases this may be sufficient. Most pupils will be -sure to care for "The Ancient Mariner," many for "The Princess;" and -any wholesome boy, with ordinary intelligence, should be interested in -"Ivanhoe" and "Macbeth."</p> - -<p>As things stand, however, the teacher is forced to deal largely with -books which almost compel formal and pedantic treatment. Burke's -"Speech on Conciliation," admirable as it is in its place and way, -will hardly give to a young student an insight into literature or a -taste for imaginative work. The normal, average lad is likely, it -seems to me, to be bored by "Silas Marner," or at least very mildly -interested; and I confess frankly my inability to understand how -youthful enthusiasm is to be aroused or more than youthful tolerance -secured for Irving's "Life of Goldsmith" or Macaulay's "Life of -Johnson." Plenty of pupils are docile enough to allow themselves to be -led placidly through these works, and indeed to submit to any volume -imposed by school regulations; but what the teacher is endeavoring to -do is to convince the young readers that books entitled to the name -"literature" are really of more worth and interest than the newspaper, -the detective story, the sensational novel, or the dime-theatre song. -It is perhaps not possible to find among the English <!-- Page 38 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>Classics works -well adapted to such use,—although I refuse to believe it,—but I do -at least feel that the present entrance-requirement list does not lend -itself readily, to say the least, to the task of the teacher who aims -at developing an intelligent and loving appreciation of literature.</p> - -<p>The list of obstacles which beset the way of a teacher of literature -might easily be lengthened; but these seem chief. They are -discouraging; but they exist. They must be faced and overcome, and -nothing is gained by ignoring them. The successful teacher, like the -successful general, is he who most clearly examines difficulties, and -best succeeds in devising means by which they may be vanquished.</p> - - -<hr class="footnotes" /> -<p class="sectctrfn">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_35:1_1" id="Footnote_35:1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_35:1_1"><span class="label">[35:1]</span></a> Since this was written this essay has been removed -from the list, but the effects of it are still with us, as it was used -for all classes entering college before 1906. I leave this comment, -however, because of its important bearing on a point which I wish to -bring up later.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_36:1_2" id="Footnote_36:1_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_36:1_2"><span class="label">[36:1]</span></a> See page <a href="#Page_212">212</a>.</p></div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /> -<p><!-- Page 39 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="Chapter_IV" id="Chapter_IV"></a>IV<br /> - -<small>OTHER OBSTACLES</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The difficulties set down in the last chapter exist in the conditions -under which teachers must work. They should be recognized, to the end -that they may be as far as possible overcome. They can be done away -with only by the slow and gradual changing of public opinion and the -re-forming of pedagogic intelligence. For the present they are to be -reckoned with as inevitable limitations.</p> - -<p>Another class of obstacles to the ideal result of the teaching of -literature exists largely in the application of the modern system or in -the method of the individual teacher. These may to a great extent be -done away with by a proper understanding of conditions, a just estimate -of what may be accomplished, and a wise choice of the means of doing -this. Teachers must take things as they find them, but the ultimate -result of work depends to a great extent upon how they take them. If -they must often accept unfortunate conditions, they may at least reduce -to a minimum whatever is uneffective in their own method.</p> - -<p>The most serious defects which depend largely upon individual teaching -are four. The first is the danger, already alluded to, of teaching -children <!-- Page 40 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span><em>about</em> literature; the second is that of making too great a -demand upon the child; the third is the common habit of endeavoring to -reach the enthusiasm of the pupil through the reason, instead of aiming -at the reason through the enthusiasm; and the fourth is—to speak -boldly—the possible incapacity of the teacher for this particular work.</p> - -<p>The first of these is the most widespread. It is so natural to bring -forward facts concerning the history of writers and of books, it is -indeed so impossible to avoid this entirely; to induce students to -repeat glibly what some critic has written about authors and their -works is so easy, that this insensibly and almost inevitably tends -to make up the bulk of instruction. Every incompetent teacher takes -refuge in such formal drill. The history of literature is concrete; -it is easily tabulated; and it is naturally accepted by children as -being exactly in line with the work which properly belongs to other -studies with which they are acquainted. If a child is set to treat -literature just as he has treated history or mathematics, the process -will appeal to him as logical and easily to be mastered. He will find -no incongruity in applying the same method to "Macbeth" and to the list -of Presidents or to the multiplication-table; and however well or ill -he succeed in memorizing what is given him, he will feel the ease of -working in accustomed lines. Names and dates may be learned by rote, -old entrance-paper questions are tangible things, and thus examinations -come to mean annual offerings of <!-- Page 41 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>childish brains. To teach literature -requires sympathy and imagination: the history of literature requires -only perseverance. Much that in school reports is set down as the study -of masterpieces is in reality only a mixture of courses in biography -and history, more or less spiced with gossip.</p> - -<p>The second danger, that of making too great a demand upon the child, -is one which, to some extent, besets all school work to-day, but which -seems to be especially great and especially disastrous in the case -of the study we are considering. Often the nature of the questions -asked shows one form of this demand in a way that is nothing less -than preposterous. Children in secondary schools are required to have -original ideas in regard to the character of Lady Macbeth; to define -the workings of the mind of Shylock; to produce personal opinions -in the discussion of the madness of Hamlet. Children whose highest -acquirements in English composition do not and cannot reach beyond the -plainest expository statement of simple facts and ideas, are coolly -requested to discriminate between the style of "Il Penseroso" and -that of "L'Allegro," and to show how each is adapted to the purpose -of the poet. If they were allowed to write from the point of view of -a child, the matter would be bad enough; but no teacher who sets such -a task would be satisfied with anything properly belonging to the -child-mind. It is probably safe to be tolerably certain that no teacher -ever gave out this sort of a question <!-- Page 42 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>who could without cribbing from -the critics perform satisfactorily the task laid upon the unfortunate -children.</p> - -<p>I have before me a pamphlet entitled "Suggestions for Teachers of -English Classics in the High Schools." It is not a gracious task to -find fault with a fellow worker and a fellow writer in the same line in -which I am myself offering suggestions, and I therefore simply put it -to the common sense of teachers what the effect upon the average high -school pupil would be if he were confronted with questions such as are -included in the proposed outline for the study of "Evangeline." The -author of the pamphlet directs that these points are to be used "after -some power of analysis has been developed."</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<a name="Evangline_topics" id="Evangline_topics"></a><p>The language.</p> - - <div class="nestlevel2"> - <p>Relative proportion of English and Latin.</p> - - <p>Archaic element, proportion and use.</p> - - <p>Weight of the style; presentative and symbolic words.</p> - - <p>Emotional element; experimental significance of terms.</p> - - <p>Picture-element; prevailing character of figures of speech.</p> - </div> - -<p>The structure.</p> - - <div class="nestlevel2"> - <p>Grammatical.</p> - - <div class="nestlevel3"> - <p>Poetic uses of words; archaisms, poetic forms.</p> - - <p>Poetic uses of parts of speech, parse.<a name="FNanchor_42:1_3" id="FNanchor_42:1_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_42:1_3" class="fnanchor">[42:1]</a></p> - - <p>Poetic constructions and inversions, analyze.</p> - </div> - - <p><!-- Page 43 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> - Metrical.</p> - - <div class="nestlevel3"> - <p>Number and character of metrical "feet."</p> - - <p>Accent and quantity, the spondee.</p> - - <p>Scan selected lines, compare with classic hexameter.</p> - - <p>Compare hexameter with other verse-forms.</p> - - <p>Character of rhyme, compare with other poems.</p> - - <p>Presence and use of alliteration.</p> - </div> - - <p>Musical.</p> - - <div class="nestlevel3"> - <p>Examine for lightness and speed; trochee, dactyl, polysyllables.</p> - - <p>Examine for dignity; iambus, monosyllables.</p> - - <p>Number of syllables in individual lines.</p> - - <p>Character of consonants; stopped, unstopped, voiced.</p> - - <p>Character of vowels; back, front, round, harsh.</p> - - <p>Correspondence of sound to sense.</p> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>It would be interesting, and perhaps somewhat humiliating, for each -one of us who are teachers to take a list of the questions we have set -for examinations in literature and with perfect honesty tell ourselves -how many of them we could ourselves answer with any originality, and -how many it is fair to suppose that our students could write about -with any ideas except those gathered from teacher or text-book. With -the pressure of a doubtful system and of unintelligent custom always -upon us, few of us, it is to be feared, would escape without a sore -conscience.</p> - -<p>When I speak of a school-boy or a school-girl as writing with -"originality," I do not mean anything profound. I am not so deluded as -to suppose <!-- Page 44 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>this originality will take the form of startlingly novel -discoveries in regard to the significance of work or the intention of -authors. I only mean that what the boy or girl writes shall be written -because he or she really thinks it, and that each idea, no matter if -it be obvious and crude, shall have some trace of individuality which -will indicate that it has passed through the mind of the particular -pupil who expresses it. This, I believe, is what should chiefly concern -the maker of examination-papers. He should especially aim at giving -students an opportunity of showing personal opinions and convictions.</p> - -<p>No one who has looked over files of examination-papers is likely to -deny that we are most of us likely to be betrayed into asking of our -classes absurd things in the line of criticism. It is all very well -to remember the scriptural phrase about the high character of some of -the utterances of babes and sucklings; but this is hardly sufficient -warrant for insisting that our school-children shall babble in -philosophy and chatter in criticism. The honest truth is that we are -constantly demanding of pupils things that we could for the most part -do but very poorly ourselves. The unfortunate youngsters who should -be solacing themselves with fairy-tales or with stories of adventure -as their taste happens to be, are being dragged through "The Vicar of -Wakefield,"—an exquisite book, which I doubt if one person in fifty -can read to-day with proper appreciation and delight <!-- Page 45 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>until he is at -least twenty-five. They are being asked to write themes about Lady -Macbeth,—and if they were really frank, and wrote their own real -thoughts, if they considered her from the point of view of the children -they are, where is the teacher who would not feel obliged to return -the theme as a failure? Those instructors who recognized that it was -of real worth because genuine would also realize that it would be -impossible when tried by the modern standard of examinations.</p> - -<p>How far individual teachers go in demanding from children what the -youthful mind cannot be fairly expected to give will depend upon -the personal equation of the instructor. In too many cases the -entrance-examinations set a standard which in the fitting-schools may -not safely be ignored, but which is fatal to all original thinking. -Perhaps the worst form of this is the wrenching from the student what -are supposed to be criticisms upon artistic form or content. A hint of -the teaching which is intended to lead up to this has been given in -the <a href="#Evangline_topics">topics</a> suggested in connection with the study of "Evangeline" on -page 42. The "outline" from which those are quoted goes on to give the -following questions:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>Of what literary spirit is "Evangeline" the expression?</p> - -<p>What is the author's thought-habit as shown in the poem?</p> - -<p>What is the place of this poem in the development of verse?</p></div> - -<p>I am perhaps a little uncharitable to these queries <!-- Page 46 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>because I am, I -confess, entirely unable to answer them myself; but I am also sure that -no child in the stage of mental development belonging to the secondary -schools would have any clear and reasonable idea even of what they -mean. The example is an extreme one, but it has more parallels than -would seem possible.</p> - -<p>The formulation of views on æsthetics, whether in regard to workmanship -or to motive, is utterly beyond the range of any mental condition the -teacher in secondary schools has a right to assume or to expect. All -that can happen is that the student who is asked to answer æsthetic -conundrums will reproduce, in form more or less distorted according -to the parrot-like fidelity of his memory, views he has heard without -understanding them. Any teacher of common sense knows this, and any -teacher of independent mind will refuse to be bullied by manuals or by -entrance-examination papers into inflicting tasks of this sort upon his -pupils.</p> - -<p>In any branch many students either go on blunderingly or fail -altogether through sheer ignorance of how to study. In the case of -literature perhaps more fail through this cause than through all others -combined. A robust, honest, and not unintelligent lad, who is fairly -well disposed toward school work, but whose real interests are in -outdoor life and active sport, who is intellectually interested only -in the obviously practical side of knowledge, is set down to "study" a -play of Shakespeare's. He is disposed to do it well, if not <!-- Page 47 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>from any -vital interest in the matter, at least from a general habit of being -faithful in his work and a healthful instinct to do a thing thoroughly -if he undertakes it at all. He is at the outset puzzled to know what is -expected of him. In arithmetic or algebra he has had definite tasks, -and success has been in direct proportion to the diligence with which -he has followed a course definitely marked out. Now he casts about for -a rule of procedure. He can understand that he is expected to learn -the meaning of unusual or obsolete words, that he is to make himself -acquainted with the story so that he may be able to answer any of the -conundrums which adorn ingeniously the puzzle department of examination -papers. These things he does, but he is too sensible not to know that -if this is all there is to the study of literature the game is not -worth the candle. He cannot help feeling that the time thus employed -might be put to a better use; he is probably bored; and as he is sure -to know that he is bored, he is likely to conceive a contempt for -literature which is none the less deep and none the less permanent for -not being put into words. He very likely comes to believe, with the -inevitable tendency of youth to make its own feelings the criteria -by which to judge all the world, that everybody is really bored by -literature, if only, for some inscrutable reason, people did not feel -it necessary to shroud the matter in so much humbug. Talk about the -beauty of Shakespeare, about the greatness of his poetry, the <!-- Page 48 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>wonders -of literary art, come to affect him as cant pure and simple. He puts -this to himself plainly or not according to his temperament; but the -feeling is in his mind, showing at every turn to one wise enough to -discern. Now and then a boy is born with the taste and appreciation of -poetry, and of course even in these days, when a literary atmosphere in -the home is unhappily so rare, an occasional student appears from time -to time who has been taught to care for poetry where every child should -learn to love it, in the nursery. On the whole, however, the average -school-boy really cares little or nothing for literature, and in his -secret heart is entirely convinced that nobody else cares either.</p> - -<p>Not knowing how to "study" literature, then, and feeling that in -literature is nothing to study which is of consequence, the pupil is -in no position to make even a reasonable beginning. He cannot even -approach literature in any proper attitude unless he can be made to -care for it; unless he can be so interested that he ceases to feel the -profession of admiration for the Shakespeare he is asked to work upon -to be necessarily cant and affectation. Perhaps the hardest part of the -task set before the teacher is to bring the pupil into a frame of mind -where he can properly study poetry and to give him some insight into -what such study may and should mean.</p> - -<p>How this is to be accomplished I cannot pretend fully to say. In -speaking of what I may call <!-- Page 49 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>"inspirational" training in literature -I shall try to answer the question to some extent; and here I may at -least point out that the situation is from the first utterly hopeless -if the teacher is in the same state of mind as the pupil. If the -instructor is able to see no method of studying literature other than -mechanical drudgery over form, the looking-up of words, verification -of dates, dissection of plot, and so on, it is idle to hope that he -will be able to aid the class to anything better than this dry-as-dust -plodding. The teacher may at least learn what at its best the "study" -is. He may or may not have the power of inciting those under him to -enthusiasm, but he may at least show them that something is possible -beyond the mechanical treatment of the masterpieces of art.</p> - -<p>A writer in the (Chicago) "Dial" states admirably the attitude of great -masses of students in saying:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>There are many people, young people in particular, who, with -the best will in the world, cannot understand why it is that -men make such a fuss about literature, and who are honestly -puzzled by the praises bestowed upon the great literary -artists. They would like to join in sympathetic appreciation -of the masters, and they have an abundant store of gratitude -and reverence to lavish upon objects that approve themselves as -worthy; but just what there is in Shakespeare and Wordsworth -and Tennyson to call for such seeming extravagance of eulogy -remains a dark mystery. Such people are apt in their moments of -revolt to set it all down to a sort <!-- Page 50 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>of critical conspiracy, -and to consider those who voice the conventional literary -estimates as chargeable with an irritating kind of hypocrisy. -They cannot see for the life of them why the books of the hour, -with their timeliness, their cleverness, their sentimental or -sensational interest, should be held of no serious account by -the real lovers of literature, while the dull babblers of a -bygone age are exalted to the skies by these same devotees of -the art of letters. . . . Some young people never recover from -the condition of open revolt into which they are thrown by the -injudicious methods of our education.</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Out of his own experience and appreciation the teacher must be able to -show the pupil some method of studying literature which shall in the -measure of the student's individual capacity lead to a conception of -what literature is and wherein lies its importance. Until this can be -done, nothing has been effected which is of any real or lasting value.</p> - -<p>The third defect which I have mentioned I have put in a phrase which -may at first seem somewhat cryptic. What is meant by the attempt to -reach the enthusiasm of the child through the reason may not be at once -apparent. Yet the thing is simple. It is not difficult to lead children -to think, and to think deeply, of things which have touched their -feeling. If once their emotions are aroused, they will go actively -forward in every investigation of which their minds are capable, -and with whatever degree of appreciation they are equal to. A child -cannot, however, be reasoned into any vital admiration. The extent to -which an adult is to be touched <!-- Page 51 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>emotionally by argument is extremely -limited. Few travelers, for instance, are able really to respond when -an officious verger or care-taker points out some historic spot, and -after glibly relating some event in his professional patter, ends with -a look which says almost more plainly than words: "Stand just here, -and thrill! Sixpence a thrill, please." Yet this is very much what is -expected of children. The teacher takes a famous book, laboriously -recounts its merits, its fame, its beauties, and then tacitly commands -the children: "Think of that, and thrill! One credit for every thrill." -It is true that the verger demands a fee and the teacher promises a -reward, but the result is the same. Do the children thrill? Is there a -conscientious teacher who has tried this method who has not with bitter -disappointment realized that the students have come out of the course -with nothing save a few poor facts and disfigured conventional opinions -which they reserve for examinations as they might save battered pennies -for the contribution-box? They have been personally conducted through -a course of literature. They come out of it in much the same condition -as return home the personally conducted through foreign art-galleries -who say: "Yes, I must have seen the 'Mona Lisa,' if it's in the Louvre. -I saw all the pictures there, you know." The chief difference is that -children are generally incapable, outside of examination-papers, of -pretending an enthusiasm which they do not feel.</p> - -<p><!-- Page 52 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -One thing which is indisputable is that children know when they are -bored. Many adults become so proficient in the art of self-deception -as to be able to cheat themselves into thinking they are at the height -of enjoyment because they are doing what they consider to be the -proper thing; when in simple truth their only pleasure must lie in the -gratification of a futile vanity. Of children this is seldom true; -or, if it is true, it extends only to the fictions practiced by their -own childish world. If they have conventions, these differ from the -conventions of their elders, and they do not fool themselves with a -show of enjoyment when the reality is wanting. If they are wearied by a -book, the fact that it is a masterpiece does not in the least console -them. They may be forced by teachers to read or to study it, and to -say on examination-papers that it is beautiful; yet they not only know -they are not pleased, but to each other they are generally ready to -acknowledge it with perfect frankness.</p> - -<p>The need of saying this in the present connection is that it is not -possible really to convince children they are enjoying the writing of -themes about Mrs. Primrose, or about Silas Marner and Effie, or on -the character of Lady Macbeth, unless they are vitally interested. -I am far from being so modern as to think that pupils should not be -asked to do anything which they do not wish to do; but I am radical -enough to believe that no other good which may be accomplished by the -study of literature in any other way can compensate for making good -books <!-- Page 53 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>wearisome. The idea that literature is something to be vaguely -respected but not to be read for enjoyment is already sufficiently -prevalent; and rather than see it more widespread, I would have all the -so-called teaching of literature in the secondary schools abolished -altogether.</p> - -<p>The last point which I mentioned as likely to diminish the value of -teaching is that it so often demands of teachers more than can be -surely or safely counted on in the way of fitness. This I do not mean -to dwell upon, nor is it my purpose to draw up a bill of arraignment -against my craft. I wish simply to comment that one essential, a prime -essential, in the teaching of literature is the power of imaginative -enthusiasm on the part of the teacher. This would be recognized if the -subject of instruction were any other of the fine arts. If teachers -were required to train school-children in the symphonies of Beethoven -or in the pictures of Titian, everybody would realize that some -special aptitude on the part of the instructor was requisite. Every -normal school or college graduate is set to teach the masterpieces of -Shakespeare or of Milton, and the fact that the poetry is as completely -a work of art as is symphony or picture, and that what holds true of -one as the product of artistic imagination must hold true of the other, -is quietly and even unconsciously ignored.</p> - -<p>No amount of study will create in a teacher the artistic imagination in -its highest sense, although much may be done in the way of developing -artistic <!-- Page 54 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>perception; but at least self-improvement may go far in the -nourishing of the important quality of self-honesty. An instructor -must learn to deal fairly with himself. He must be strong enough to -acknowledge to himself fearlessly if he is not able to care for some -work that is ranked as an artistic masterpiece. He must be willing to -say unflinchingly to himself that he cannot do justice to this work or -to that, because he is not in sympathy with it, or because he lacks any -experience which would give him a key to its mood and meaning.</p> - -<p>One thing seems to me to be entirely above dispute in this delicate -inquiry: that it is idle to hope to impart to children what we have -not learned ourselves; and it follows that the first necessity is to -appreciate our shortcomings. I ask only for the same sort of honesty -which would by common consent be essential in teaching the more humble -branches. A teacher who could not solve quadratic equations would -manifestly be an ill instructor in algebra. By the same token it is -evident that a teacher who cannot enter into the heart of a poem, who -does not understand the mood of a play, who has not a real enthusiasm -for literature, is not fitted to help children to a comprehension and -an appreciation of these. Neither is the power to rehearse the praises -and phrases of critics or commentators a sufficient qualification for -teaching. In an examination-paper at the Institute of Technology a boy -recently wrote with admirable frankness and directness:</p> - -<p><!-- Page 55 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>I confess that while I like Shakespeare, I like other poets -better, and while my teachers have told me that he was the -greatest writer, they never seemed to know why.</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">The boy unconsciously implies a most important fact, namely, that if -a teacher does not know why a poet is great, it is not only difficult -to convince the pupil of the reality of his claims, but also is it -impossible to disguise from the clever scholars the real ignorance -of the instructor. As well try to warm children by a description of -a fire as to endeavor to awake in them admiration and pleasure by -parrot-phrases, no matter how glibly or effectively repeated. They are -aroused only by the contagion of genuine feeling; they are moved only -by finding that the teacher is first genuinely moved himself.</p> - -<p>It is bad enough when an instructor repeats unemotionally what he has -unemotionally acquired about arithmetic or geography. Pupils will -receive mechanically whatever is mechanically imparted; and in even -the most purely intellectual branches such training can at best only -distend the mind of the child without nourishing it. When it comes to -a study which is presented as of value precisely because it kindles -feeling, the absurdity becomes nothing less than monstrous.</p> - -<p>Any child of ordinary intelligence comes sooner or later to perceive, -whether he reasons it out or not, that much of the literature presented -to him is not in the least worth the bother of study if it is to -be taken merely on its face-value. If "The <!-- Page 56 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>Vicar of Wakefield" or -"Silas Marner" is to be read simply for the plot, either book might -be swept out of existence to-morrow and the world be little poorer. -A conscientious teacher will at least be honest with himself in -determining how much more than the obvious and often slight face-value -he is enabling his class to perceive.</p> - -<p>An ordinary modern school-boy unconsciously but inevitably measures -the values of the books presented to him by the news of the day and -the facts of life as he sees it. If he is not made to feel that books -represent something more than a statement of outward fact or of -fiction, he is too clear-headed not to see that they are of little -real worth, and with the pitiless candor of youth he is too honest not -to acknowledge this to himself. Young people are apt to credit their -elders with enormous power of pretending. The conventionalities of -life, those arrangements which adults recognize as necessary to the -comfort and even to the continuance of society, are not infrequently -regarded by the young as rank hypocrisy. The same is true of any tastes -which they cannot share. Again and again I have come upon the feeling -among students that the respect for literature professed by their -elders was only one of the many shams of which adult life appears to -children to be so largely made up.</p> - -<p>From the purely intellectual side of the matter, moreover, the youth -is right in feeling that there is nothing so remarkable in play or -poem as to <!-- Page 57 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>justify the enthusiasm which he is told he should feel. If -he sees only what I have called the face-value, he would be a dunce -if he did not imagine an absurdity in the estimate at which the works -of great artists are held. He is precisely in the position of the man -who judges the great painting by its realistic fidelity to details, -and logically, from his point of view, ranks a well-defined photograph -above "The Night Watch" or the Dresden "Madonna." There is more thrill -and more emotion for the boy in the poorest newspaper account of a game -of football than in the greatest play of Shakespeare's,—unless the lad -has really got into the spirit of the poetry.</p> - -<p>If nothing is to be taken into account but the intellectual content -of literature, the child is therefore perfectly right, and doubly so -from his own point of view. Regarded as a mere statement of fact it -is to be expected that the average modern boy will find "Macbeth" far -less exciting and absorbing than an account of a football match or of -President Roosevelt's spectacular hunting. If we expect the lad to -believe without contention and without mental reservation that the work -of literature is really of more importance and interest than these -articles of the newspaper or the magazine, we are forced to depend upon -the qualities which distinguish poetry as art. If books are to be used -only as glove-stretchers to expand mechanically the minds of the young, -it is better to throw aside the works of the masters, and to come down -frankly <!-- Page 58 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>to able expositions of literal fact, stirring and absorbing.</p> - -<p>It must be always borne in mind, moreover, that little permanent result -is produced except by what the pupil does for himself. The teacher is -there to encourage, to stimulate, to direct; but the real work is done -in the brain of the student. This limits what may wisely be attempted -in the line of instruction. What the teacher is able to lead the pupil -to discover or to think out for himself is within the limit of sound -and valuable work. With every class, and—what makes the problem much -more difficult—with every boy or girl in the class, the capacity will -vary. The signs, moreover, by which we determine how far a child is -thinking for himself, instead of more or less consciously mimicking -the mind of the master, are all well-nigh intangible, and must be -watched for with the nicest discernment. Often the teacher is obliged -to help the class or the individual as we help little children playing -at guessing-games with "Now you are hot," or "Now you are cold;" but -just as the game is a failure if the child has in the end to be told -outright the answer to the conundrum, so the instruction is a failure -if the student does not make his own discovery of the meaning and worth -of poem or play. The moment the instructor finds himself forced to do -the thinking for his class in any branch of study, he may be sure that -he has overstepped the boundary of real work, or at least that he has -been going too rapidly for his pupils <!-- Page 59 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>to keep pace with him. This -is even likely to be true when he is obliged to do the phrasing, the -putting of the thought into word. He cannot profitably go farther at -that time. In another way, at another time, he may be able to bring -the class over the difficulty; but he is doing them an injury and not -a benefit, if he go on to do for them the thinking, or that realizing -of thought which belongs to putting thought into word. He is then not -educating, but "cramming." It is his duty to encourage, to assist, but -never to do himself what to be of value must be the actual work of the -learner himself.</p> - -<p>All this is evident enough in those branches where results are definite -and concrete, like the learning of the multiplication-table or of the -facts of geography. It is equally true in subjects where reasoning is -essential, like algebra or syntax. Most of all, if not most evidently, -is it vitally true in any connection where are involved the feelings -and anything of the nature of appreciation of artistic values. We -evidently cannot do the children's memorizing for them; but no more -can we do for them their reasoning; and least of all is it possible -to manufacture for them their likings and their dislikings, their -appreciations and their enthusiasms. To tell children what feelings -they should have over a given piece of literature produces about the -same effect as an adjuration to stop growing so fast or a request that -they change the color of their eyes.</p> - -<p>In any emotional as in any intellectual experience, <!-- Page 60 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>intensity -and completeness must ultimately depend upon the capacity and the -temperament of the individual concerned. It is useless to hope that a -dull, stolid, unimaginative boy will have either the same appreciation -or the same enjoyment of art as his fellow of fine organization and -sensitive temperament. The personal limitation must be accepted, just -as is accepted the impossibility of making some youths proficient in -geometry or physics. It may be necessary under our present system—and -if so the fact is not to the credit of existing conditions—to present -the dull pupil with a set of ideas which he may use in examinations. -The proceeding would be not unlike providing the dead with an obolus by -way of fare across the Styx; and certainly in no proper sense could be -considered education. Difficult as it may be, the pupil must be made to -think and to feel for himself, or the work is naught.</p> - -<p>Perhaps the tendency to try to do for the student what he should -accomplish for himself is the most general and the most serious of -all the errors into which teachers are likely to fall. The temptation -is so great, however, and the conditions so favorable to this sort of -mistake, that it is not possible to mete out to instructors who fall -into it an amount of blame at all equal to the gravity of the offense.</p> - - -<hr class="footnotes" /> -<p class="sectctrfn">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p><a name="Footnote_42:1_3" id="Footnote_42:1_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_42:1_3"><span class="label">[42:1]</span></a> I am unable to resist the temptation to call attention -to the intimation that the writer perceives some relation between -poetry and parsing. It would be interesting if he had developed this.</p> -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /> -<p><!-- Page 61 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="Chapter_V" id="Chapter_V"></a>V<br /> - -<small>FOUNDATIONS OF WORK.</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The foundation of any understanding or appreciation of literature is -manifestly the power of reading it intelligently. A truth so obvious -might seem to be taken for granted and to need no saying; but any -one who has dealt with entrance examination-papers is aware how -many students get to the close of their fitting-school life without -having acquired the power of reading with anything even approaching -intelligence. Primary as it may sound, I cannot help emphasizing as -the foundation of all study of literature the training of students in -reading, pure and simple.</p> - -<p>The practical value of simple reading aloud seems to me to have been -too often overlooked by teachers of literature. Teachers read to their -pupils, and this is or should be of great importance; but the thing of -which I am now speaking is the reading of the students to the teacher -and to the class. In the first place a student cannot read aloud -without making evident the degree of his intelligent comprehension of -what he is reading. He must show how much he understands and how he -understands it.</p> - -<p>The queer freaks in misinterpretation which come <!-- Page 62 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>out in the reading -of pupils are often discouraging enough, but they are amusing and -enlightening. Any teacher can furnish absurd illustrations, and it is -not safe to assume of even apparently simple passages that the child -understands them until he has proved it by intelligent reading aloud. -The attention which oral reading is at present receiving is one of the -encouraging signs of the times, and cannot but do much to forward the -work of the teacher of literature.</p> - -<p>Of so much importance is it, however, that the first impression of -a class be good, that the instructor must be sure either to find a -reasonably good reader among the pupils for the first rendering or must -give it himself. In plays this is hardly wise or practicable; but here -the parts are easily assigned beforehand, and the pride of the students -made a help in securing good results. In any work a class should be -made to understand that the first thing to do in studying a piece of -literature is to learn to read it aloud intelligently and as if it were -the personal utterance of the reader.</p> - -<p>In dealing with a class it is often a saving of time and an easy method -of avoiding the effects of individual shyness to have the pupils read -in concert. In dealing with short pieces of verse this is, moreover, -a means of getting all the class into the spirit of the piece. The -method lacks, of course, in nicety; but it is in many cases practically -serviceable.</p> - -<p>Above everything the teacher must be sure, <!-- Page 63 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>before any attempt is -made to do anything further, that the pupil has a clear understanding -at least of the language of what he reads. My own experience with -boys who come from secondary schools even of good grade has shown me -that they not infrequently display an extraordinary incapability of -getting from the sentences and phrases of literature the most plain -and obvious meaning, especially in the case of verse; while as to -unusual expressions they are constantly at sea. On a recent entrance -examination-paper I had put, as a test of this very power, the lines -from "Macbeth:"</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">And with some sweet oblivious antidote</div> - <div class="line">Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">The play is one which they had studied carefully at school, and they -were asked to explain the force in these lines of "oblivious." Here are -some of the replies:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>"Oblivious," used in this quotation, means that the person -speaking was not particular as to the kind of antidote that was -chosen.</p> - -<p>A remedy that would not expose the lady to public suspicion.</p> - -<p>The word "oblivious" implies a soothing cure, which will heal -without arousing the senses.</p> - -<p>An antidote applied in a forgetful way, or unknown to the -person.</p> - -<p>"Oblivious" here means some antidote that would put Lady -Macbeth to sleep while the doctor removed the cause of the -trouble.</p> - -<p>"Oblivious antidote" means one that is very pleasing.</p> - -<p>The word "oblivious" is beautifully used here. <!-- Page 64 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>Macbeth wishes -the doctor to administer to Lady Macbeth some antidote which -will cure her of her fatal [<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">sic</i>] illness, but which will not -at all be any bitter medicine.</p> - -<p>"Oblivious" here means relieving.</p> - -<p>"Oblivious" means some remedy the doctor had forgotten, but -might remember if he thought hard enough.</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Of course many of the replies were sensible and sound, but those hardly -better than these were discouragingly numerous.</p> - -<p>In my own second-year work, in which the students have had all the -fitting-school training and the freshman drill besides, I am not -infrequently confounded by the inability of students to understand the -meaning of words which one uses as a matter of course. The statement -that Raleigh secretly married a Lady in Waiting, for instance, -reappeared in a note-book in the assertion that Sir Walter ran away -with Queen Elizabeth's waiting-maid; and a remark about something which -took place at Holland House brought out the unbelievable perversion -that the event happened "in a Dutch tavern." Personally I have never -discovered how far beyond words of one syllable a lecturer to students -may safely go in any assurance that his language will be understood by -all the members of his class; but this is one of the things which must -be decided if teaching is to be effective.</p> - -<p>It must always be remembered that the vocabulary of literature is to -some extent different from that employed in the ordinary business of -life. The student is confronted with a set of terms which <!-- Page 65 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>he seldom -or never uses in common speech; he must learn to appreciate fine -distinctions in the use of language; he must receive from words a -precision and a force of meaning, a richness of suggestion, which is -to be appreciated only by special and specific training. It will be -instructive for the teacher to take any ordinary high-school class, for -instance, and examine how far each member gets a complete and lucid -notion of what Burke meant in the opening sentence of the "Speech on -Conciliation:"</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>I hope, Sir, that notwithstanding the austerity of the Chair, -your good nature will incline you to some degree of indulgence -toward human frailty.</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">An instructor is apt to assume that the intent of a passage such as -this is entirely clear, yet I apprehend that not one high-school pupil -in twenty gets the real force of this unaided.</p> - -<p>If this example seems in its diction too remote from every-day speech -to be a fair example, the teacher may try the experiment with the -sentence in "Books" in which Emerson speaks of volumes that are</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>So medicinal, so stringent, so revolutionary, so authoritative.</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Every word is of common, habitual use, but most young people would be -well-nigh helpless when confronted with them in this passage.</p> - -<p>The use in literature of allusion, of figures, of striking and unusual -employment of words, must become familiar to the student before he -is in a condition to deal with literature easily and with full -<!-- Page 66 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>intelligence. The process must be almost like that of learning to read -in a foreign tongue. For a teacher to ignore this fact is to take the -position of a professor in Italian or Spanish who begins the reading -of his pupils not with words and simple sentences, but with intricate -prose and verse.</p> - -<p>It must be remembered, moreover, that if the diction of literature -is removed from the daily experience of the pupil, the ideas and the -sentiments of literature are yet more widely apart from it. Literature -must deal largely with abstract thoughts and ideas, expressed or -implied; it is necessarily concerned with sentiments more elevated or -more profound than those with which life makes the young familiar. They -must be educated to take the point of view of the author, to rise to -the mental plane of a great writer as far as they are capable of so -doing. Until they can in some measure accomplish this, they are not -even capable of reading the literature they are supposed to study.</p> - -<p>Fortunately it is with reading literature as it is with reading foreign -tongues. Often the context, the general tone, the spirit, will carry -us over passages in which there is much that is not clear to our exact -knowledge. Children are constantly able to get from a story or a poem -much more than would seem possible to their ignorance of the language -of literature. They are helped by truth to life even when they are far -from realizing what they are receiving; so that it would be manifestly -unjust to assume that the measure of a child's profit <!-- Page 67 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>in a given case -is to be gauged too nicely by his acquaintance with the words, the -phrases, the tropes, the suggestions in which the author has conveyed -it. The fact remains, however, that in attempting to do anything -effective in the way of instruction the teacher has first of all to -train his pupil in the language of literature.</p> - -<p>The student, having learned to read the work which is to be studied, -must approach it through some personal experience. The teacher who is -endeavoring to assist him must therefore discover what in the child's -range of knowledge may best serve as a point of departure. In all -education, no less than in formal argument, a start can be made only -from a point of agreement, from something as evident to the student as -it is to the instructor. Consciously or unconsciously every teacher -acts upon this principle, from the early lessons in addition which -begin with the obvious agreement produced by the sight of the blocks -or apples or beads which are before the child. In literature, too, the -fact is commonly acted upon, if not so universally formulated. If young -pupils are having "The Village Blacksmith" read to them, the teacher -instinctively starts with the fact that they may have seen a blacksmith -at work at his forge. The difficulty is that teachers who naturally do -this in simple poems fail to see that the same principle holds good of -literature of a higher order, and that the more complex the problem, -the greater the need of being sure of this beginning with some actual -experience.</p> - -<p><!-- Page 68 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> -With this finding some safe and substantial foundation in the pupil's -own experience is connected the necessity of speaking of literature, -as of anything else one tries to teach, in the language of the class -addressed. Of all that we say to our pupils very little if any of all -our careful wisdom really impresses them or remains in their minds -except that portion which we have managed to phrase in terms of their -language and so to put that it appeals to emotions of their own young -lives. They can have no conception of the characters in fiction or -poetry except in so far as they are able to consider these shadows as -moving in their own world. They should be told to make up their minds -about Lady Macbeth, or Robin Hood, or Dr. Primrose as if these were -persons of their own community about whom they had learned the facts -set forth in the books read. They cannot completely realize this, but -they get hold of the fictitious character only so far as they are able -to do it. They will at least come to have a conception that people they -see in the flesh and those they meet in literature are of the same -stuff fundamentally, and should be judged by the same laws. They will -receive the benefit, moreover, whether they realize it or not, of being -helped by fiction to understand real life, and they will be in the -right way of judging books by experience.</p> - -<p>The principle of speaking to pupils only in the language of their own -experience is of universal application, but it is to be applied with -common <!-- Page 69 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>sense. Nothing is more unfortunate in teaching than to have -pupils feel that they are being talked down to or that too great an -effort is being made to bring instruction to their level. A friend -once told me of a professor who in the days of the first period of -tennis enthusiasm in this country made so great an effort to take all -his illustrations from the game that the class regarded the matter a -standing joke. Yet if care be exercised it is not difficult to mix -with the childish, the familiar, and the commonplace, the dignified, -the unusual, and the suggestive. Starting with a daily experience the -teacher may go on to states of the same emotion which are far greater -and higher than can have come into the actual life of the child, but -which are imaginatively intelligible and possible because although they -differ in degree they are the same in kind. Nothing is lost of the -dignity of a play of Shakespeare's dealing with ambition if the teacher -starts with ambition to be at the head of the school, to lead the -baseball nine, or to excel in any sport; but from this the child should -be led on through whatever instances he may know in history, and in -the end made to feel that the ambition of Macbeth is an emotion he has -felt, even though it is that emotion carried to its highest terms. So -the small and the great are linked together, and the use of the little -does not appear undignified because it has been a stepping-stone to the -great.</p> - -<p>The aim in teaching literature is to make it <!-- Page 70 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>a part of the student's -intimate and actual life; a warm, human, personal matter, and not a -thing taken up formally and laid aside as soon as outside pressure is -removed. To this end is the appeal made to the pupil's experience, -and to this end is he allowed to make his own estimates, to formulate -his own likes and dislikes. Any teacher, it must be remembered, is -for the scholar in the position of a special pleader. The student -regards it as part of the pedagogic duty to praise whatever is taught, -and instinctively distrusts commendation which he feels may be only -formal and official. He forms his own opinion independently or from -the judgment of his peers,—the conclusions of his classmates. He -may repeat glibly for purposes of recitation or of examination the -criticisms of the teacher, but he is likely to be little influenced -by them unless they are confirmed by the voice of his fellows and his -own taste. If young people do not reason this out, they are never -uninfluenced by it; and this condition of things must be accepted by -the teacher.</p> - -<p>It follows that it is practically never wise to praise a book -beforehand. The proper position in presenting to the class any work for -study is that it is something which the class are to read together with -a view of discovering what it is like. Of course the teacher assumes -that it has merit or it would not be taken up, but he also assumes -that individually the members of the class may or may not care for it. -The logical and safe method is to <!-- Page 71 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>set the students to see if they -can discover why good judges have regarded the work as of merit. The -teacher should say in effect: "I do not know whether you will care for -this or not; but I hope you will be able to see what there is in it to -have made it notable."</p> - -<p>When the study of poem or play is practically over, when the pupils -have done all that can be reasonably expected of them in the way of -independent judgment, the teacher may show as many reasons for praising -it as he feels the pupils will understand. He must, however, be honest -in letting them like it or not. He must recognize that it is better -for a lad honestly to be bored by every masterpiece of literature -in existence than to stultify his mind by the reception of merely -conventional opinions got by rote.</p> - -<p>Much the same thing might be said of the drawing of a moral, except -that it is not easy to speak with patience of those often well-meaning -but gravely mistaken pedagogues who seem bound to impress upon -their scholars that literature is didactic. In so far as a book is -deliberately didactic, it is not literature. It may be artistic in -spite of its enforcing a deliberate lesson, but never because of this. -My own instinct would be, and I am consistent enough to make it pretty -generally my practice, to conceal from a class as well as I can any -deliberate drawing of morals into which a writer of genius may have -fallen. It is like the fault of a friend, and is to be screened from -the public as <!-- Page 72 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>far as honesty will permit. Certainly it should never be -paraded before the young, who will not reason about the matter, but are -too wholesome by nature and too near to primitive human conditions not -to distrust an offering of intellectual jelly which obviously contains -a moral pill.</p> - -<p>Morals are as a rule drawn by teachers who feel that they must teach -something, and something tangible. They themselves lack the conception -of any office of art higher than moralizing, and they deal with -literature accordingly. They are unable to appreciate the fact that the -most effective influence which can be brought to bear upon the human -mind is never the direct teaching of the preacher or the moralizer, -but the indirect instruction of events and emotions. Personally I have -sufficient modesty, moreover, to make me hesitate to assume that I can -judge better than a master artist how far it is well to go in drawing -a moral. If the man of genius has chosen not to point to a deliberate -lesson, I am far from feeling inclined to take the ground that I know -better, and that the sermon should be there. When Shakespeare, or -Coleridge, or Browning feels that a vivid transcript of life should -be left to work out its own effect, far from me be the presumption to -consider the poet wrong, or to try to piece out his magnificent work -with trite moralizing.</p> - -<p>The tendency to abuse children with morals is as vicious as it -is widespread. It is perhaps not unconnected with the idea that -instruction and improvement <!-- Page 73 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>must alike come through means not in -themselves enjoyable. It is the principle upon which an old New -England country wife rates the efficacy of a drug by its bitterness. -We all find it hard to realize that as far as literature, at least, is -concerned, the good it does is to be measured rather by the pleasure -it gives. If the children entirely and intelligently delight in it, we -need bother about no morals, we need—as far as the question of its -value in the training of the child's mind goes—have no concern about -examinations. Art is the ministry of joy, and literature is art or it -is the most futile and foolish thing ever introduced into the training -of the young.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /> -<p><!-- Page 74 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="Chapter_VI" id="Chapter_VI"></a>VI<br /> - -<small>PRELIMINARY WORK</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>It will not always do to plunge at once into a given piece of -literature, for often a certain amount of preliminary work is needed -to prepare the mind of the pupil to receive the effect intended by the -author. For convenience I should divide the teaching of literature into -four stages:</p> - -<ul class="list"> - <li>Preliminary;</li> - <li>Inspirational;</li> - <li>Educational;</li> - <li>Examinational.</li> -</ul> - -<p class="noindent">The division is of course arbitrary, but it is after all one which -comes naturally enough in actual work. One division will not -infrequently pass into another, and no one could be so foolish as -to suppose literature is to be taught by a cut and dried mechanical -process of any sort. The division is convenient, however, at least for -purposes of discussion; and no argument should be needed to prove that -in many cases the pupil cannot even read intelligently the literature -he is supposed to study until he has had some preparatory instruction.</p> - -<p>The vocabulary of any particular work must first be taken into account. -We do not ask a child <!-- Page 75 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>to read a poem until we suppose him to have by -every-day use become familiar with the common words it contains. We -should remember that the poet in writing has assumed that the reader is -equally familiar with any less common words which may be used. It is -certainly not to be held that the writer intends that in the middle of -a flowing line or at a point where the emotion is at its highest, the -reader shall be bothered by ignorance of the meaning of a term; that -he shall be obliged to turn to notes to look up definitions, shall be -plunged into a puddle of derivations, allied meanings, and parallel -passages such as are so often prepared by the ingenious editors of -school texts. These things are well enough in their place and way; but -no author ever intended his work to be read by any such process, and -since literature depends so largely on the production of a mood, such -interruptions are nothing less than fatal to the effect.</p> - -<p>I remember as a boy sitting at the feet of an elder sister who was -reading to me in English from a French text. At the very climax of -the tale, when the heroine was being pursued down a wild ravine by a -bandit, the reader came to an adjective which she could not translate. -With true New England conscientiousness she began to look it up in -the dictionary; but I could not bear the delay. I caught the lexicon -out of her hands, and without having even seen the French or knowing -a syllable of that language, cried out: "Oh, I <!-- Page 76 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>know that word! It -means 'blood-boltered.' Did he catch her?" She abandoned the search, -and in all the horror of the picturesque Shakespearean epithet the -bandit dashed on, to be encountered by the hero at the next turn of -the romantic ravine. I had at the moment, so far as I can remember, -no consideration of the exact truth of my statement. I simply could -not bear that the emotion of the crisis should be interrupted by that -bothersome search for an exact equivalent. The term 'blood-boltered' -fitted the situation admirably, and I thrust it in, so that we might -hurry forward on the rushing current of excitement. This, as I -understand it, is the fashion in which children should take literature. -Few occasions, perhaps, are likely to call for epithets so lurid as -that in which Macbeth described the ghost of Banquo, but the spirit of -the thing read should so carry the reader forward that he cannot endure -interruption.</p> - -<p>When work must be done with glossary and notes in order that the -text may be easily and properly understood, this should be taken as -straightforward preliminary study. It should be made as agreeable -as possible, but agreeable for and in itself. When I say agreeable -for itself, I mean without especial reference to the text for which -preparation is being made. The history of words, the growth and -modification of meanings, the peculiarities and relations of speech, -may always be made attractive to an intelligent class; and since here -and throughout all study of literature students <!-- Page 77 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>are to be made to do -as much of the actual work as possible, this part is simple.</p> - -<p>The amount of time given to such learning of the vocabulary might -at first seem to be an objection to the method. In the first place, -however, there is an actual economy of time in doing all this at first -and at once, thus getting it out of the way, and saving the waste -of constant interruptions in going over the text; in the second, it -affords a means of making this portion of the work actually interesting -in itself and valuable for its relation to the study of language in -general; and in the third place it both fixes meanings in mind and -allows the reading of the author with some sense of the effect he -designed to give by the words he employed.</p> - -<p>It is hardly necessary to say that in this matter of taking up the -vocabulary beforehand many teachers, perhaps even most teachers, will -not agree with me. The other side of the question is very well put in -a leaflet by Miss Mary E. Litchfield, published by the New England -Association of Teachers in English:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>My pupils, I find, can work longer and harder on "Macbeth" and -"Hamlet," with constantly increasing interest, than on any -other masterpieces suited to school use. Just because these -dramas are so stimulating, the pupils have the patience to -struggle with the difficulties of the text. In general they -feel only a languid interest in word-puzzles such as delight -the student of language; for instance, the expression, "He -doesn't know a hawk from a handsaw," might fail to arouse their -curiosity. But when Hamlet says: "I am but mad north-north -<!-- Page 78 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>west: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw," -they are on the alert; they really care to know what he means -and why he has used this peculiar expression. Thus word-study -which might be mere drudgery is rendered interesting by the -human element in the play—the element which, in my opinion, -should always be kept well in the foreground.</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">A large number of teachers, many of them, very likely, of experience -greater than mine, will agree with this view. I am not able to do so -because I believe we should know the language before we try to read; -but I at least hold that the first principle in any successful teaching -is that a teacher shall follow the method which he finds best adapted -to his own temperament. For the instructor who is convinced that the -habit of taking up difficulties of language as they are met in actual -reading, to take them up then is perhaps the only effective way of -doing things. It seems to me, however, a little like sacrificing the -literature to a desire to make teaching the vocabulary easier. It is -very likely a simpler way of arousing interest in difficulties of -language; but in teaching literature the elucidation of obscure words -and phrases is of interest or value simply for the sake of the effect -of the text, and I hold that to this effect, and to this effect as a -whole, everything else should be subordinate. Each teacher must decide -for himself what is the proper method, but I insist that no author -ever wrote sincerely without assuming that his vocabulary was familiar -to his audience beforehand. <!-- Page 79 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>Certainly I am not able to feel that it -is wise to interrupt any first reading with anything save perhaps the -briefest possible explanations, comments that are so short as not to -break the flow of the work as a whole.</p> - -<p>The first reading of a narrative of any sort, it may surely be said, -is chiefly a matter of making the reader, and especially the childish -reader, acquainted with the story. Since little real study can be -accomplished while interest is concentrated on the plot, it may be wise -for the teacher to have a first reading without any more attention to -the difficulties of vocabulary than is absolutely needed to make the -story intelligible, and then to have the difficulties learned before -a second and more intelligent going over of the work as a whole. Each -teacher must decide a point of this sort according to individual -judgment and the character of the class.</p> - -<p>In all the lower grades of school work whatever literature is given to -the children should be in diction and in phrasing so simple that very -little of this sort of preliminary work need be done. So long as what -is selected has real literary excellence it can hardly be too simple. -We constantly forget, it seems to me, how simple is the world of -children. Dr. John Brown, dear and wise soul, has justly said:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>Children are long in seeing, or at least in looking at what is -above them; they like the ground, and its flowers and stones, -its "red sodgers" and lady-birds, and <!-- Page 80 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>all its queer things; -<em>their world is about three feet high</em>, and they are more often -stooping than gazing up.</p> -</div> - -<p>It does not follow that children are to be fed on that sort of -water-gruel which is so often vended as "juvenile literature." They -should be given the best, the work of real writers; but of this the -simplest should be chosen, and in dealing with it the children should -not be bothered with thoughts and ideas which are over their heads. -They live, it must be remembered, in a "world about three feet high," -mentally as well as physically.</p> - -<p>In preliminary work the first object is to remove whatever obstacles -might hinder ease and smoothness of progress in reading. Beside having -all obscure terms understood, it is well to call attention to some of -the most striking and beautiful passages in the book or poem which -is to be read. They should be taken up as detached quotations, and -the pupils made to discover or to see how and why each is good. The -pleasure of coming upon them when the text is read helps in itself; it -diminishes the strain upon the mind of the student in the effort of -comprehension, and it doubles the effect of the portions chosen. My -idea is that many fine passages may be treated almost as a part of the -vocabulary of the text; their meaning and force may be made so evident -and so attractive that when the complete play or poem is taken up a -knowledge of these bits helps greatly in securing a strong effect of -the work as a whole.</p> - -<p>We teachers too often ignore, it is to be feared, <!-- Page 81 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>the strain it is -to the young to understand and to feel at the same time. We fail to -recognize, indeed, how difficult it is for them—or for any one—to -<em>feel</em> while the attention is taxed to take in the meaning of a thing; -so that in literary study we are likely to demand the impossible, the -responsiveness of the emotions while all the force of the child's mind -is concentrated upon the effort to comprehend. Whatever may be done -legitimately to lessen this stress is most desirable. The preparation -of the vocabulary, the elucidation of obscure passages obviously aids -in this; but so does the pointing out of beauties. Instead of being -bothered in the midst of the effort to take in a poem or a play as a -whole and being harassed by the need of mastering details of diction or -phrasing, the student has a pleasant sense of self-confidence in coming -upon obscure matters already conquered; and in the same way receives -both pleasure and a feeling of mastery in recognizing beauties already -familiar.</p> - -<p>The preliminary work, besides this study of any difficulties of -vocabulary, should include whatever is needful in making clear any -difference between the point of view of the work studied and that of -the child's ordinary life.</p> - -<p>In "The Merchant of Venice," for instance, it is necessary to make -clear the fact that the play was written for an audience to which -usury was an intolerable crime and a Jew a creature to be thoroughly -detested. The Jew-baiting of recent years in Europe helps to make -this intelligible. The <!-- Page 82 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>point must be made, because otherwise Antonio -appears like a cad and Jessica inexcusable. The story is easily brought -home to the school-boy, moreover, by its close relation to the simplest -emotions.</p> - -<p>The two facts that Antonio has incurred the hatred of Shylock through -his kindness to persons in trouble and that he comes within the -range of danger through raising money to aid his friend Bassanio are -so closely allied to universal human feelings and universal human -experience that it is only needful to be sure these points are clearly -perceived to have the sympathies of the class thoroughly awakened. All -this is so obvious that it is hardly necessary to say it except for the -sake of not omitting what is of so much real importance. Every teacher -understands this and acts upon it.</p> - -<p>To include this in the preliminary work may seem a contradiction of -a previous statement that it is not wise to tell children what they -are expected to get from any given book. The two matters are entirely -distinct. What should be done is really that sort of giving of the -point of view which we so commonly and so naturally exercise in telling -an anecdote in conversation. "Of all conceited men I ever met," we say, -"Tom Brandywine was the worst. Why, once I saw him"—and so on for -the story which is thus declared to be an exposition of overweening -vanity. "See," we say to the class in effect, "you must have felt sorry -to see some kindly, honest fellow cheated just because he was too -honest to suspect the sneak that cheated him. <!-- Page 83 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>Here is the story of a -great, splendid, honest Moor, a noble general and a fine leader, who -was utterly ruined and brought to his death in just that way." This is -not drawing a moral, and it seems to me entirely legitimate aid to the -student. It is less doing anything for them that they could and should -do than it is directing them so that they may advance more quickly and -in the right direction.</p> - -<p>This indication of the general direction in which the mind should move -in considering a work is closely connected with what might be called -establishing the proper point of departure. This is neither more nor -less than fixing the fact of common experience in the life of the pupil -at which it seems safe and wise to begin. What has been said about -the way in which a teacher calls upon the experience of the pupils to -bring home the picture of the Village Blacksmith at his forge is an -indication of what is here meant. In teaching history to-day, with -a somewhat older grade of pupils than would be reading that poem of -Longfellow's, an instructor naturally makes vivid the Massacre of St. -Bartholomew by comparison with the reports of Jewish massacres in our -own time; and in the same line the fact that it is so short a time -since the King of Servia was assassinated, or that the present Sultan -of Turkey cemented on his crown with the blood of his brothers, may -be made to assist a class to take the point of view necessary for the -realization of the tragedy in "Macbeth." I have already spoken<a name="FNanchor_83:1_4" id="FNanchor_83:1_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_83:1_4" class="fnanchor">[83:1]</a> -<!-- Page 84 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>of the humbler, but perhaps even more vital way in which the vice of -ambition that is so strong a motive power in that tragedy is to be -understood by starting from the rivalry in sports, since from this so -surely intelligible emotion the mind of the boy is easily led on to the -ambition which burns to rule a kingdom. It is wise not to be afraid of -the simple. If the poem to be studied is "The Ancient Mariner," it is -well to discover what is the strangest situation in which any member of -the class has ever found himself. After inciting the rest of the pupils -to imagine what must be one's feelings in such circumstances, it is not -difficult to lead them on to understand the declaration of Coleridge -that he tried to show how a man would feel if the supernatural were -actual.</p> - -<p>For natural, wholesome-minded children it is not in the least necessary -to take pains to reconcile them to the supernatural. To the normal -child the line between the actual and the unreal does not exist -until this has been drilled into him by adult teaching, conscious -or unconscious. The normal condition of youth is that which accepts -a fairy as simply and as unquestioningly as it accepts a tree or a -cow. Certainly it is true that children are in general ready enough -for what they would call "make-believe," that stage of half-conscious -self-deception which lies between the blessed imaginative faith of -unsophisticated childhood and the more skeptical attitude of those who -have discovered that "there isn't any Santa Claus." For all younger -classes <!-- Page 85 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>nothing more is likely to be necessary than to assume that the -wonderful will be accepted.</p> - -<p>When occasion arises to justify the marvellous, the teacher may always -call attention to the fact that in poems like "The Ancient Mariner," -or "Comus," or "Macbeth" the supernatural is a part of the hypothesis. -To connect with this the pupil's conception of the part the hypothesis -plays in a proposition in geometry is at once to help to connect one -branch of study with another, always a desirable thing in education, -and to aid them in understanding why and how they are to accept the -wonders of the story entirely without question. The impossible is part -of the proposition, and this they must be made to feel before they can -be at ease with their author or get at all the proper point of view.</p> - -<p>The aim of literature is to arouse emotion, but we live in a realistic -age, and the youth of the present is not given to the emotional. -Youth, moreover, instinctively conceals feeling, and the lads in our -school-classes to-day are in their outside lives and indeed in most of -their school-work called upon to be as hard-headed and as unemotional -as possible. They are likely to feel that emotion is weak, that to be -moved is effeminate. They will shy at any statement that they should -feel what they read. The notion of conceiving an hypothesis helps just -here. A boy will accept—not entirely reasoning the thing out, but -really making of it an excuse to himself for being moved—the idea that -if the hypothesis were true he might feel deeply, <!-- Page 86 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>although he assures -himself that as it is he is actually stable in a manly indifference. -The aim of the teacher is to awake feeling, but not to speak of it; to -touch the class as deeply as possible, yet not to seem aware, or at -least not to show that he is aware that the students are touched.</p> - -<p>In this as in all treatment of literature, any connection with the -actual life of the pupil is of the greatest value. It seems to justify -emotion, and it gives to the work of imagination a certain solidity. -Without reasoning the thing out fully, a boy of the present day is -likely to judge the importance of anything presented to him at school -by what he can see of its direct bearing upon his future work, and -especially by its relations to the material side of life. This is even -measurably true of children so young that they might be supposed still -to be ignorant of the realism of the time and of the practical side of -existence. The teacher best evades this danger by starting directly -from some thought or fact in the child's present life and from this -leading him on to the mood of the work of literature which is under -consideration.</p> - -<p>Here and everywhere I feel the danger of seeming to be recommending -mechanical processes for that which no mechanical process can reach. If -the teacher has a sympathetic love for literature, he will understand -that I do not and cannot mean anything of the sort; if he has not -that sympathy, he cannot treat literature otherwise than in a machine -fashion, no matter what is said. It <!-- Page 87 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>sometimes seems that it is hardly -logical to expect every teacher to be an instructor in literature any -more than it would be to ask every teacher to take classes in music and -painting. Art requires not only knowledge but temperament; both master -and pupil must have a responsiveness to the imaginative, or little can -be accomplished. Since the exigencies of our present system, however, -require that so large a proportion of teachers shall make the attempt, -I am simply endeavoring to give practical hints which may aid in the -work; but I wish to keep plainly evident the fact that nowhere do I -mean to imply a patent process, a mechanical method, or anything which -is of value except as it is applied with a full comprehension that the -chief thing, the thing to which any method is to be at need completely -sacrificed, is to awaken appreciation and enthusiasm, to quicken the -imagination of the student, and to develop whatever natural powers he -may have for the enjoying and the loving of good books.<a name="FNanchor_87:1_5" id="FNanchor_87:1_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_87:1_5" class="fnanchor">[87:1]</a></p> - - -<hr class="footnotes" /> -<p class="sectctrfn">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_83:1_4" id="Footnote_83:1_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_83:1_4"><span class="label">[83:1]</span></a> Page <a href="#Page_69">69</a>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_87:1_5" id="Footnote_87:1_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_87:1_5"><span class="label">[87:1]</span></a> While this volume was in press a writer in the <cite>Monthly -Review</cite> (London) has remarked: "I fail to see how a literary sense -can be cultivated until a firm foundation of knowledge has been laid -whereon to build, and I tremble to think of the result of an enforced -diet of 'The Canterbury Tales,' 'The Faerie Queen,' and 'Marmion' upon -a class as yet ignorant of the elements of English composition."</p></div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /> -<p><!-- Page 88 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="Chapter_VII" id="Chapter_VII"></a>VII<br /> - -<small>THE INSPIRATIONAL USE OF LITERATURE</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The term "inspirational," which I have used as indicating the second -division of the teaching of literature, is a somewhat absurdly large -word for what is the most simple and natural part of the whole dealing -with books which goes on between teacher and pupil. It is a term, -however, which expresses pretty well what is or should be the exact -character of the study at its best. The chief effect of literature -should be to inspire, and by "inspirational," as applied to teaching, I -mean that presentation of literature which best secures this end.</p> - -<p>Put in simpler terms the whole matter might be expressed by saying that -the most important office of literature in the school as in life is to -minister to delight and to enthusiasm; and whoever is familiar with the -limited extent to which the required training in college requirements -or in prescribed courses fulfils this office will realize the need -which exists for the emphasizing of this view of the matter. Literature -is made a gymnasium for the training of the intellect or a treadmill -for the exercise of the memory, but it is too seldom that delight which -it must be to accomplish its highest uses.</p> - -<p><!-- Page 89 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> -That the secondary schools should be chiefly concerned with this phase -of literature seems to me a truth so obvious and so indisputable that -I can see only with astonishment that it is so generally ignored. In -the lower grades, it is true, something is done in the way of letting -children enjoy literature without bothering about didactic meanings, -history of authors, philological instances, critical manipulations, and -all the devices with which later the masterpieces of genius are turned -into bugbears; but even here too many teachers feel an innate craving -to draw morals and to make poetry instructive. They seem to forget -that as children themselves they skipped the moral when they read a -story, or at best received it as an uninteresting necessity, like the -core of an apple, to be discarded when from it had been gleaned all -the sweets of the tale. Nothing is more amazing than the extent to -which all we teachers, in varying degrees, but universally, even to the -best of us, go on dealing with a sort of imaginary child which from -our own experience we know never did and never could exist. The first -great secret of all teaching is to recognize that we must deal with our -pupils as if we were dealing with our own selves at their age. If we -can accomplish this, we shall not bore them with dull moralizings under -the pretext that we are introducing them to the delights of literature.</p> - -<p>Where a class has to be dealt with, the work in any branch must be -adapted to the average mind, and not to the understanding of the -individual; so <!-- Page 90 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>that in school many things are impossible which at -home, or in individual training, are not difficult. It is not hard, I -believe, to interest even the average modern boy, distracted by the -multiplicity of current impressions, in the best literature, provided -he may be taken alone and competently handled. Almost any wholesome and -sane lad may at times be found to be indifferent in class to the plays -of Shakespeare, for instance; yet I believe few healthy and fairly -intelligent boys of from ten to fifteen could resist the fascination of -the plays if these were read with them by a competent person at proper -times, and without the dilution of mental perception which necessarily -comes with the presence of classmates. Be this, however, as it may, -the teacher must be content with arousing as well as he can the spirit -of the class as a whole. Some one or two of the cleverest pupils will -lead, and may seem to represent the spirit of all; but even they are -not what they would be alone, and in any case the instructor must not -devote himself to the most clever while the rest of the pupils are -neglected.</p> - -<p>It follows that in the choice of pieces to be read to students the -first thing to be considered is that these shall be effective in a -broad sense so that they will appeal to the average intelligence and -taste of a given class easily and naturally. They must first of all -have that strong appeal to general human emotion which will insure a -ready response from youth not well developed æsthetically and rendered -less sensitive by being massed with other <!-- Page 91 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>students in a class. Such -a selection is not easy, and it involves the careful study of what -may be termed the individuality of any given group of pupils; but it -seems to me to be at once one of the most obvious and one of the most -important of the points which should be considered in the beginning of -any attempt to create in school a real enjoyment in literature.</p> - -<p>A danger which naturally presents itself at the very outset is the -likelihood of forgetting that the possession of this easy and obvious -interest is not a sufficient reason why a work should be presented to a -class. It too often happens that the desire of arousing and interesting -pupils leads teachers to bring forward things that are sensational and -have little if any further recommendation. Doubtless Dr. Johnson was -right when he declared that "you have done a great thing when you have -brought a boy to have entertainment from a book;" yet after all the -teacher is not advancing in his task and may be doing positive harm -if he sacrifice too much to the desire to be instantly and strongly -pleasing. Flashy and unworthy books are so pressed upon the reading -public at the present day that especial care is needed to avoid -fostering the tendency to receive them in place of literature.</p> - -<p>It is not my purpose to give lists of selections, for in the first -place it has been done over and over, notably in such a collection as -the admirable "Heart of Oak" series; and in the second no selection -can be held to be equally adapted to different <!-- Page 92 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>classes or to have -real value unless it has been made with a view to the actual needs of -a definite body of pupils. Pupils must be interested, yet the things -chosen to arouse their interest should be those which have not only the -superficial qualities which make an instant appeal, but possess also -those more lasting merits essential to genuine literature.</p> - -<p>In the lower grades it is generally, I believe, possible for the -teacher to control the choice of selections put before students, -although even here this is not always the case. If errors of selection -are made, however, they are largely due to inability to judge wisely -and to a too great deference to general literary taste. A teacher -must remember that two points are absolutely essential to any good -teaching of literature: first, that the selection be suited to the -possibilities of the individual class; second, that the teacher be -qualified so to use and present the selection as to make it effective. -Many conscientious teachers take poems which they know are regarded -as of high merit, and which have been used with advantage by other -instructors, yet which they individually, from temperament or from -training, are utterly inadequate to handle. They either lack the -insight and delight in the pieces which are essential if the pupils -are to be kindled, or are deficient in power so to present their own -appreciation and enjoyment that these appeal to the children.</p> - -<p>For illustration of one of the ways in which a child may be led into -the heart of a poem I have <!-- Page 93 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>chosen "The Tiger," by William Blake. -This belongs to the class of literature constantly taken for use with -children because it is reputed to be beautiful, yet which constantly -fails in its appeal to a class. It is to me one of the most wonderful -lyrics in the language, yet I doubt if it would ever have occurred to -me to use it in our common schools, and certainly I should never have -dreamed that it was to be presented to children in the lower grades. -I do not know with what success teachers in general may have used it, -but in one or two Boston schools with which I happen to be fairly -well acquainted the effect is pretty justly represented by the mental -attitude of the small lad spoken of in the next chapter. The extent to -which children acquiesce in a sort of mechanical compliance in what to -them are the vagaries of their elders in the matter of literature can -hardly be exaggerated. Doubtless they often unconsciously gain much -of which they do not dream in the way of the development of taste and -perception, but too often the whole of the instruction given along -æsthetic lines slides over them without producing any permanent effect -of appreciable value.</p> - -<p>Of course I do not contend that children are not advancing unless they -know it. Early training in literature may often be of the highest value -without definite consciousness on the part of the child. Self-analysis -is no more to be expected here than anywhere else in the early stages -of training. The child does not in the least comprehend, for <!-- Page 94 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>instance, -that the ditties of Mother Goose, meaningless jingles as they are, -are educating his sense of rhythm; he does not understand that his -imaginative powers are being nourished by the fairy-tale, the normal -mental food for a certain stage of the development of the individual as -it is the natural and inevitable product of a corresponding stage in -the development of the race. So long as a child has genuine interest -in a poem or a tale he is getting something from it, but he does not -concern himself to consider anything beyond present enjoyment. In the -earlier stages at least, and for that matter at any stage, the thing -to be secured is interest; and instruction in the lower school grades -should be confined to what is actually needed to make children enjoy a -given piece. Anything beyond this may wisely be deferred.</p> - -<p>In many of the lower grades it is now the fashion to have children -act out poems. The method is spoken of with satisfaction by teachers -who have tried it. I know nothing of it by experience, but should -suppose it might be good if not carried too far. Children are naturally -histrionic, and advantage may be taken of this fact to stimulate their -imagination and to quicken their responsiveness to literature, if -seriousness and sincerity are not forgotten.</p> - -<p>In this early work it does not seem to me that much can wisely be done -in the study of metrical effects. Indeed, I have serious doubts whether -much in the way of the examination of the technique of poetry properly -has place anywhere in <!-- Page 95 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>preparatory schools. The child, however, should -be trained gradually to notice metrical effects, by having attention -called to passages which are especially musical or impressive. By -beginning with ringing and strongly marked verse and leading on to -effects more delicate the teacher may do much in this line.</p> - -<p>I have called this early work "inspirational" because it should be -directed to making literature a pleasure and an inspiration. The word, -clumsy as it may seem, does express the real function of art, and the -only function which may with any profit be considered in the earlier -stages of the "study" of literature. The object is to make the children -care for good books; to show them that poetry has a meaning for them; -and to awaken in them—although they will be far from understanding the -fact—a sensitiveness to ideals. The child will not be aware that he -is being given higher views of life, that he is being trained to some -perception of nobler aims and possibilities greater than are presented -by common experiences; but this is what is really being accomplished. -Any training which opens the eyes to the finer side of life is in the -best and truest sense inspiration; and it should be the distinct aim -of the teacher to see to it that whatever else may happen, in the -lower grades or in the higher, this chief function of the teaching of -literature shall not be lost sight of or neglected.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /> -<p><!-- Page 96 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="Chapter_VIII" id="Chapter_VIII"></a>VIII<br /> - -<small>AN ILLUSTRATION</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>To attempt to give a concrete illustration of the method in which any -teaching is to be carried on is in a way to try for the impossible. -Every class and every pupil must be treated according to the especial -nature of the case and the personal equation of the teacher. I perhaps -expose myself to the danger of seeming egotistic if I insert here an -experience of my own, and, what is of more consequence, I may possibly -obscure the very points I am endeavoring to make clear. As well as I -can, however, I shall set down an actual talk, in the hope that it -may afford some hint of the way in which even difficult pieces of -literature may be made to appeal to a child. Of course this is not in -the least meant as a model, but solely and simply as an illustration.</p> - -<p>I once asked a fine little fellow of eight what he was doing at school. -He answered—because this happened to be the task which at the moment -was most pressing—that he was committing to memory William Blake's -"Tiger."</p> - -<p>"Do you like it?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Oh, we don't have to like it," he responded with careless frankness, -"we just have to learn it."</p> - -<p><!-- Page 97 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -The form of his reply appealed to one's sense of humor, and I wondered -how many of my own students in literature might have given answers not -dissimilar in spirit, had they not outgrown the delicious candor which -belongs to the first decade of a lad's life. The afternoon chanced to -be rainy and at my disposal. I was curious to see what I could do with -this combination of Blake and small boy, and I made the experiment. -I should not have chosen the poem for one so young; but it is real, -compact of noble imagination, the boy was evidently genuine, and a real -poem must have something for any sincere reader even if he be a child.</p> - -<p>The following report of our talk was not written down at the time, -and makes no pretense of being literal. It does represent, so far -as I can judge, with substantial accuracy what passed between the -straightforward lad and myself. Too deliberate and too diffuse to have -taken place in a school-room, it yet gives, on an extended scale, -what I believe is the true method of "teaching literature" in all the -secondary-school work. I do not claim to have originated or to have -discovered the method; but I hope that I may be able to make clearer -to some teachers how children may be helped to do their own thinking -and thus brought to a vital and delighted enjoyment of the masterpieces -they study.</p> - -<p>I began to repeat aloud the opening lines of the poem.</p> - -<p>"Why," said the boy, "do you know that? Did <!-- Page 98 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>you have to learn it at -school when you were little like me?"</p> - -<p>"I'm not sure when I did learn it," I answered; "I've known it for a -good while; but I didn't just learn it. I like it."</p> - -<p>I repeated the whole poem, purposely refraining from giving it very -great force, even in the supreme symphonic outburst of the magnificent -fifth stanza:</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">Tiger, tiger, burning bright</div> - <div class="line i1">In the forests of the night,</div> - <div class="line">What immortal hand or eye</div> - <div class="line i1">Could frame thy fearful symmetry?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">In what distant deeps or skies</div> - <div class="line i1">Burnt the fire of thine eyes?</div> - <div class="line">On what wings dare he aspire?</div> - <div class="line i1">What the hand dare seize the fire?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">And what shoulder and what art</div> - <div class="line i1">Could twist the sinews of thy heart?</div> - <div class="line">And, when thy heart began to beat,</div> - <div class="line i1">What dread hand formed thy dread feet?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">What the hammer? what the chain?</div> - <div class="line i1">In what furnace was thy brain?</div> - <div class="line">What the anvil? what dread grasp</div> - <div class="line i1">Dare its deadly terrors clasp?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">When the stars threw down their spears,</div> - <div class="line i1">And watered heaven with their tears,</div> - <div class="line">Did he smile His work to see?</div> - <div class="line i1">Did he who made the lamb make thee?</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>"It sounds rather pretty," I commented, as carelessly as possible.</p> - -<p><!-- Page 99 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> -"Yes, I suppose so," he assented colorlessly, looking at me rather -suspiciously.</p> - -<p>He was a shrewd little mortal, and he had been so often told at school -that he should like this and that for which in reality he did not -care a button that he was on his guard. I made a casual remark about -something entirely unrelated to the subject. It was well that the lad -should not feel that he was being instructed. Then in a manner as -natural and easy as I could make it I asked:</p> - -<p>"Did you ever see a tiger?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes; I've seen lots of them at the circus. Tom Bently never went -to but one circus, but I've been to four."</p> - -<p>"What does a tiger look like?" I went on, ignoring the irrelevant.</p> - -<p>"He's a fierce-looking thing! Didn't you ever see one?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I've seen them, but I wondered if they looked the same to you as -they do to me."</p> - -<p>"Why, how do they look to you?"</p> - -<p>"I asked you first. It's only fair for you to say first."</p> - -<p>"Well," the small boy said, with a fine show of being determined to -play fair, "I think they look like great big, big, big cats. Did you -think that?"</p> - -<p>"That's exactly what I should have said. They really are a sort of cat, -you know. Did you ever see a keeper stir them up?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, sir; and they snarled like anything, and licked their lips -just like this!"</p> - -<p><!-- Page 100 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> -He gave a highly gratifying imitation, and then added vivaciously: "If -I were the keeper, I'd keep stirring them up all the time. They did -look so mad!"</p> - -<p>"And they opened and shut their eyes slowly," I suggested, "as if -they'd like to get hold of their keeper."</p> - -<p>"Yes; and their eyes were just like green fire."</p> - -<p>"'Burning bright,'" I quoted; and then without giving the boy time to -suspect that he was being led on, I asked at once: "Did you ever see a -cat's eyes in the dark?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, I saw our cat once last summer, when we were in the country, under -a rosebush after dark, when Dick and I got out of the window after we'd -gone to bed. She just scared me; her eyes were just like little green -lanterns. Dick said they were like little bicycle lamps."</p> - -<p>"If it had been a tiger under a bush in the night,—'in the forests of -the <span class="nospace">night,'—"</span></p> - -<p>"Oh," interrupted the boy with the eagerness of a discoverer, "is that -what it means! Did he see a tiger in the night under a bush? A real, -truly tiger, all loose? I'd have run away."</p> - -<p>"I don't know if he ever saw one," I answered. "I rather think he -saw a tiger or a picture of one, or thought of one, and then got to -thinking how it must seem to come across one in the woods; when one was -travelling, say, in the East where tigers live wild. If you came upon -one in the forest in <!-- Page 101 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>the dark, what do you think would be the first -thing that would tell you a tiger was near?"</p> - -<p>"I'd hear him."</p> - -<p>"Did you ever hear a cat moving about?"</p> - -<p>"No," the boy said doubtfully. "Aunt Katie says Spot doesn't make any -more noise than a sunbeam. Could a sunbeam make a noise?"</p> - -<p>"She meant that Spot didn't make any. You'd never hear a tiger coming, -for it's a kind of cat, and moves without sound. You wouldn't know that -way."</p> - -<p>"I'd see him."</p> - -<p>"In the night? You couldn't see him."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I could! Yes, I could!" he cried triumphantly. "I'd see his eyes -just like green fire."</p> - -<p>I had interested the lad and taken him far enough to feel sure he would -follow me if I helped him on a little faster. I was ready to use clear -suggestion when I felt that he would respond to it as if the thought -were his own.</p> - -<p>"Well," I said, "don't you see that this is just what the man who wrote -the poem meant? He got to thinking how the tiger would look in the -night to anybody that came on him in the forest and saw those eyes like -green fires shining at him out of the jungle. Don't you suppose you or -I would think they were pretty big fires if we saw them, and knew there -was a tiger behind them?"</p> - -<p>"I guess we should! Wooh! Do you suppose Bruno'd run?"</p> - -<p>Bruno was a small and silky water-spaniel, a <!-- Page 102 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>charming beast in his -way, but not especially welcome at this point of the conversation.</p> - -<p>"Very likely;" I slid over the subject. "The man knew that he would -have a feeling how big and strong that tiger must be: and it gave him -a shock to think what a fearful thing the beast would be there in the -dark, with all the warm, damp smells of the plants in the air, and the -strange noises. It would almost take away his breath to think what a -mighty Being it must have taken to make anything so awful as a tiger."</p> - -<p>"Yes," the lad said so quietly that I let him think a little. He had -snuggled up against my knee and laid hold of my fingers, and I knew -some sense of the matter was working in him. After a moment or two I -asked him if he could repeat the first verse of the poem as if he were -the man who thought of the tiger in the jungle there, with fierce eyes -shining out of the dark, and who had so clear an idea of the mighty -creature that he couldn't help thinking what a wonderful thing it was -that it could be created. The boy fixed his eyes on mine as if he were -getting moved and half-consciously desired to be assured that I was -utterly serious and sympathetic; and in his clear childish voice he -repeated in a way that had really something of a thrill in it:</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">"Tiger, tiger, burning bright</div> - <div class="line indentq i1">In the forests of the night,</div> - <div class="line indentq">What immortal hand or eye</div> - <div class="line indentq i1">Could frame thy fearful symmetry?"</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><!-- Page 103 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -"If a traveller were in the jungle in the dark night," I went on after -a word of praise for his recitation, "I suppose he couldn't see much -around him, the trees would be so thick. He'd have to look up to the -sky to see anything but the tiger's eyes."</p> - -<p>"He'd see the stars there," the boy observed, just as I had hoped he -would. "I've seen stars through the trees. I was out in the woods long -after dark once."</p> - -<p>"Were you really? The man must have thought the stars looked like the -eyes, as if when the animal was made the Creator went to the sky itself -for that fire. Think of a Being that could rise to the very stars and -take their light in His hand."</p> - -<p>"Ouf!" the small man cried naïvely. "I shouldn't want to take fire in -my hand!"</p> - -<p>"The writer of the poem was thinking what a wonderful Being He must be -that could do it; but that if He could make a creature like the tiger, -He would be able to do anything."</p> - -<p>The boy reflected a moment, and then, with a frank look, asked: "Did -the fire in a tiger's eyes really come out of the stars?"</p> - -<p>"I don't think that the poem means that it really did," was my answer. -"I think it means that when the poet thought how wonderful a tiger is, -with the life and the fierceness shining like a flame in his eyes, -and how we cannot tell where that fire came from, and that the stars -overhead were scarcely brighter, it seemed as if that was where the -green <!-- Page 104 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>light came from. He was trying to say how wonderful and terrible -it was to him,—especially when he thought of coming upon the beast all -alone in the forest in the night with nobody near to defend him."</p> - -<p>The boy was silent, and thinking hard. He had evidently not yet clearly -grasped all the idea.</p> - -<p>"But God didn't make a tiger on an anvil and put pieces of stars in for -eyes," he objected.</p> - -<p>"You told me yesterday that Bruno swims like a duck. He doesn't really, -for a duck goes on the top of the water."</p> - -<p>"Oh, but I meant that Bruno goes as fast as a duck."</p> - -<p>"And you wanted me to know how well he swims, I suppose."</p> - -<p>"Why, of course. Bruno can swim twice as fast as Tom Talcott's dog."</p> - -<p>"You said that about the duck to make me know what a wonderful swimmer -Bruno is, and the man who wrote the poem wanted you when you read it to -feel how wonderful the tiger seemed to him; its eyes as if they were of -fire brought from the stars, its strength so great that it seemed as if -his muscles had been beaten out on an anvil from red-hot steel by some -Being mighty enough to do something no man could begin to do. The poem -doesn't mean that a tiger was really made in this way; but it does mean -that when you think of the strength and fearfulness of the creature, -able to carry off a man or even a horse in its jaws, this is the best -way to give an idea of how terrible the animal seemed."</p> - -<p><!-- Page 105 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> -The boy accepted this, and so we came to the fifth verse. The range -of ideas here is so much beyond the mind of any child that it was -necessary to suggest most of them, to go very slowly, and in the end -to be content with a childishly inadequate notion of the magnificent -conception. I gave frankly a suggestion of the creation of all the -animals at the beginning, and of how the angels might have stood around -like stars, watching full of interest and of kindness. The boy was -easily made to feel as if he had seen the making of the deer and the -lamb and the horse, and of how the angels might see in one or another -of the animals a help or a friend to man.</p> - -<p>"Then suppose," I said, "that the angels should see God make the great -tiger, royal and terrible. What would they see?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, a great fierce thing," the lad returned. "Do you suppose he'd jump -right at the deer and the lambs?"</p> - -<p>"He would make the angels think how he could. How different from the -other animals he'd be."</p> - -<p>"Yes, he'd have big, big, sharp teeth, and he'd lash his tail, and he'd -put out his claws. Do you suppose he'd sharpen his claws the way Muff -does on the leather chairs?"</p> - -<p>"Very likely he would," I said. "At any rate the angels would think -how the other animals would be torn to pieces if the tiger got hold of -them; and they would think of what would happen to men. Perhaps they -would imagine some poor Hindu <!-- Page 106 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>woman, with her baby on her back going -through a path in the jungle, and how the tiger might leap out suddenly -and tear them both to pieces. The angels couldn't understand how God -could bear to make any animal so cruel, or how He could be willing to -have anything so wicked in the world. They would be so sorry for all -the suffering that was to come that they would throw down their spears -and not be able to keep back the tears."</p> - -<p>"But angels wouldn't have spears, would they?"</p> - -<p>I went to a shelf of the library in which we were talking and took down -a volume in which I found a picture of St. Michael in full armor.</p> - -<p>"It is like the fire from the stars," I said. "Of course nobody ever -saw an angel to know how he would look, but to show how strong and -powerful an angel might be, a good many men that make pictures have -painted them like knights."</p> - -<p>"But men that had spears wouldn't cry; I shouldn't think angels would."</p> - -<p>"Even the strongest men cry sometimes, my boy; only it has to be -something tremendous to make them. A thing that would make the angels -'water heaven with their tears' must be something so terrible that you -couldn't tell how sad it was."</p> - -<p>"Well, anyway, I'd rather be a tiger than a lamb," he proclaimed rather -unexpectedly.</p> - -<p>"Very likely," I assented, "but I think you'd rather have a lamb come -after Baby Lou than a tiger."</p> - -<p><!-- Page 107 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -"Oh, I wouldn't want a tiger to get Baby Lou!" he cried with a tremor.</p> - -<p>"I suppose that is the way the angels might feel at the idea of the -tiger's killing anybody," I rejoined.</p> - -<p>With a lad somewhat older one would have gone on to develop the -thought that to the watching angels the tiger, leaping out fierce -and bloodthirsty from the hand of the Creator, would be like the -incarnation of evil, and that in their weeping was represented all the -sorrowful problem of the existence of evil in the Universe; but this on -the present occasion I did not touch upon.</p> - -<p>"So the angels," I went on, "couldn't keep back their tears; but what -did God do?"</p> - -<p>"Why, He smiled!" the boy answered, evidently with astonishment at the -thought which now for the first time came home to him. "I shouldn't -think He'd have smiled."</p> - -<p>"When you were so disappointed the other day because the carriage was -broken and you couldn't go over to the lake in it, do you remember that -Uncle Jo laughed?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, he knew we could go in his automobile."</p> - -<p>"He knew."</p> - -<p>"Yes, he knew," began the boy, "and so—" He stopped, and looked at me -with a sudden soberness. "What did God know?" he asked seriously.</p> - -<p>"He must have known that somehow everything was right, don't you think? -He knew why He had made the tiger, just as He knew why He had made <!-- Page 108 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>the -lamb, and so He could see that everything would be as it should be in -the end."</p> - -<p><span class="nospace">"But—but—"</span></p> - -<p>The boy was speechless in face of the eternal problem, as so many -greater and wiser have been before him. It seemed to me that we had -done quite enough for once, so I broke off the talk with a suggestion -that we try the boy's favorite game. That was the end of the matter for -the time, but in the library of the lad's father the copy of Blake is -so befingered at the page on which "The Tiger" is printed that it is -evident that the boy, with the soiled fingers of his age, has turned it -often. How much he made out of the talk I cannot pretend to say, but at -least he came to love the poem.</p> - -<p>I said at the start that I do not give the conversation, which is -actual, as a sample, but as an illustration. The poem called for more -leading on of the pupil than would many, for as Blake is one of the -most imaginative of English writers, his conceptions are the more -subtle and profound. A class, moreover, cannot be treated always with -the same deliberation as that which is natural in the case of a single -child; but the essential principle, I believe, is the same everywhere.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /> -<p><!-- Page 109 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="Chapter_IX" id="Chapter_IX"></a>IX<br /> - -<small>EDUCATIONAL</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Educational in the broadest sense must anything be which is -inspirational; for to interest the child in literature, to make him -enter into it as into a charming heritage, is more truly to educate -him than would be any pedantic or formal instruction whatever. I have -used the term specifically, however, as a convenient word by which -to designate that form of instruction which is more deliberately -and formally an effort to make clear what literature may be held to -teach. To regard any work of art as directly and didactically teaching -anything is perhaps to fail in so far to treat it as art; but the -point which such a consideration raises is too deep for our present -inquiry, and may be disregarded except in the case of unintelligent -attempts to make every tale or poem embody and convey a set moral. To -endeavor to aid pupils to perceive fully the relation of what they read -to themselves and to the society in which they live is part of the -legitimate work of the teacher of literature. In a word, while the term -is perhaps not the best, I have used the word educational to designate -such study as is directed to helping the student to gain from books a -wider knowledge of life and human nature.</p> - -<p><!-- Page 110 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -It is not my idea that in actual practice a formal division is -to be made, and still less that what I have called inspirational -consideration of literature is ever to be discontinued. In the growth -of a child's mind comes naturally a simple and unreflecting pleasure -in literature, beginning, as has been said, with unsophisticated -delight in the marked rhythms of Mother Goose or in the wholesome joy -of the fairy-story. To this is gradually added an equally unreflecting -absorption of certain ideas concerning life, which by slow degrees -gives place to reflection conscious and deliberate. The delight and the -unconscious yielding to the influence of the work of art remain, and to -the end they are more effective than any deliberate and conscious ideas -can be. Nothing that we teach our pupils about a poem can compare in -influence with what they absorb without realizing what they are doing. -One of the great dangers of this whole matter is that we shall hurry -them from an instinctive to a cultivated attitude toward literature; -that we shall replace natural and healthful pleasure by laborious and -conscientious study. In dealing with any piece of real literature the -wise method, it seems to me, is to take it up first for the absolute, -straightforward emotional enjoyment.<a name="FNanchor_110:1_6" id="FNanchor_110:1_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_110:1_6" class="fnanchor">[110:1]</a> It is of very little use -to study any work which the children have not first come to care for. -After they see why a piece is worth while from the point of view of -pleasure, <!-- Page 111 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>then study may go further and consider what is the core of -the work intellectually and emotionally.</p> - -<p>In speaking of treating literature educationally I do not refer to -that sort of instruction which so generally and unfortunately takes -the place of the true study of masterpieces. The history of a poem or -a drama, the biography of authors, and all work of this sort should -in any case be kept subordinate and should generally, I believe, -come after the student has at least a tolerable idea and a fair -appreciation of the writings themselves. What is important and what I -mean by the educational treatment of literature is the development of -those general truths concerning human nature and human feeling which -form the tangible thought of a play or poem. The line of distinction -between this and the less tangible ideas which are conveyed by form, -by melody, by suggestion,—the ideas, in short, which are the secret -of the inspirational effect of a work,—cannot be sharply drawn. Many -of the tangible ideas will have been obvious in the reading of which -the recognized purpose has been mere delight and inspiration; and on -the other hand the two classes of ideas are so closely interwoven that -it is not possible, even were it advisable, to separate them entirely. -It is possible, however, after the pupil has come to take pleasure in -a work,—though it should never be attempted sooner,—to go on to the -deliberate study of the intellectual content, and to take up broad and -general truths.</p> - -<p>One way of preparing a class for the work which <!-- Page 112 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>is now to be done -is to speak to them of literature as a sort of high kind of algebra; -to let them see, that is, how the distinction between the great mass -of reading-matter and what is fairly to be called literature is not -unlike the difference with which they are familiar in mathematics -between arithmetic and the higher grade of work which comes after. The -newspaper, the text-book, the history, the scientific treatise all -deal with the concrete, just as arithmetic has to do with absolute -quantities. In the mental development of the pupil the time comes when -he is considered sufficiently advanced to go on from the handling of -concrete things to the dealing with the abstract. When he is able to -understand the relation between the sum paid for one bushel of wheat -and the amount needed to purchase fifty, he may be advanced to the lore -of general formulæ, and be made to understand how <i>x</i> may represent -any price and <i>y</i> any number of bushels. In the same way from reading -in a newspaper the story of the assassination of the late King of -Servia, the concrete case, he may go on to read "Macbeth," wherein -Duncan represents any monarch of given character, and Macbeth not a -particular, actual, concrete assassin, but a murderer of a sort, a -type, the general or abstract character. The student has gone on from -the particular to the general; from the concrete to the abstract; from -the arithmetic of human nature to its algebra.</p> - -<p>A similar comparison between history and poetry is on the same grounds -easily to be made between <!-- Page 113 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>the history lesson and the chronicle plays -of Shakespeare. The student who in his nursery days started out with -the instinctive question in regard to the fairy-tale: "Is it true?" -begins to perceive the difference between literal and essential truth. -He perceives that verity in literature is not simple and obvious -fidelity to the specific fact or event; he learns to appreciate that -the truth of art, like the truth of algebra, lies in its accuracy -in representing truth in the abstract: he comes to appreciate the -narrowness of the nursery question, which asked only for the literal -fact, and he begins to comprehend something of the symbolic.</p> - -<p>An excellent illustration for practical use is a poem like "How they -Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix." Any live, wholesome boy is -sure to tingle with the swing and fervor of the verse, the sense of -the open air, the excitement, the doubt, the hope, the joyful climax. -It is easy to lead the class on to consider how exhilarating such an -experience would be, and to go on from this to point out that the -poem does not describe a literal, actual occurrence; but that it is a -generalized expression of the zest and exhilaration of a superb, all -but impossible ride, with the added excitement of being responsible for -the freedom or even the lives of the folk of a whole city.</p> - -<p>The first feeling of the class on learning that such a ride was not -taken is sure to be one of disappointment. It is better to meet -this frankly, and to compensate for it by arousing interest in the -<!-- Page 114 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>embodiment of abstract feeling. One great source of the lack of -interest in literature at the present time is that the material, -practical character of the age makes it difficult for the general -reader to respect anything but the concrete fact. Literature is apt to -present itself to the hard-headed young fellow of the public school -as a lot of make-believe stuff, and therefore at best a matter of -rather frivolous amusement. The surest way of correcting this common -attitude of mind is to nourish the appreciation of what fact in art -really means; to cultivate a clear perception of how a poem or a tale -may be the truest thing in the world, although dealing with imaginary -personages and with incidents which never happened.<a name="FNanchor_114:1_7" id="FNanchor_114:1_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_114:1_7" class="fnanchor">[114:1]</a></p> - -<p>As an illustration of the sense in which literature is a sort of -algebra of human feeling somewhat more remote from the ordinary life -of a child may be taken another poem of Browning's, "The Lost Leader." -My experience is that most youth of the school age start out by being -able to make little or nothing of this. By a little talk, however, -beginning perhaps as simply as with the way in which a lad feels when -a school-fellow he had faith in has failed in a crisis, has for some -personal advantage gone over to the other party in a school election, -or of how the class would feel if some teacher who had been with the -students in some effort to obtain an extension of privilege to which -the scholars felt themselves to be honestly entitled had for <!-- Page 115 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>his -own purposes swung over to the opposite side, the whole thing may be -brought home. The boys may be led on to imagine what are the feelings -of a youth eager for the cause of freedom and the uplifting of man, -when one whom he has looked to as a leader, one in whom he has had -absolute faith, deserts the rank for honors or for money. Once the -young minds are on the right track it is by no means impossible to -bring them to see pretty clearly that in the poem is not the question -of a particular man or a particular cause; but that Browning is dealing -with a universal expression of the pain that would come to any man, to -any one of them, in believing that the leader who had been most trusted -and revered had in reality been unworthy, and had betrayed the cause -his followers believed he would gladly die to defend.</p> - -<p>These two examples from Browning I have taken almost at random, and -not because they are unusual in this respect, for this quality is the -universal property of all real literature, and indeed is one of the -tests by which real literature is to be identified. Any selection which -it is worth while to give students at all must have this relation which -I have called "algebraic," but of which the true name is imaginative; -and it is certainly one of the important parts of anything which in a -high sense is properly to be called "teaching" literature to make the -scholars realize and appreciate this.</p> - -<p>The next step is more difficult because far more subtle; and I confess -frankly that it is all but <!-- Page 116 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>impossible to propose methods by which -formal instruction may deal with it. The aim of literature is largely -the attempt to produce a mood. The prime aim of the poet is to induce -in the reader a state of feeling which will lead inevitably to the -reception of whatever he offers in the same mood in which he offers -it. In the simplest cases no instruction is needed, for even with -school-boys a ringing metre, to take a simple and obvious example, -has somewhat the same effect as the dashing swing of martial music; -whoever comes under its influence falls insensibly into the frame of -mind in which the ideas of the verse should be received. The thoughts -are accepted in the exhilarated spirit in which they were written, and -the effects of the metre are as great or greater than the influence of -the literal meaning. It is a commonplace to call attention to the part -which the melody of poetry or the rhythm of prose plays in the effect, -but how to aid pupils to a responsiveness to this language of form is -not the least of the problems of the teacher.</p> - -<p>The means by which an author establishes or communicates his mood -do not always appeal to the young. Indeed, beyond a certain limited -extent they appeal to most adults only after careful cultivation in the -understanding of art-language. It is as idle to suppose that literature -appeals to everybody and without æsthetic education as it is to suppose -that sculpture or music will surely meet with a response everywhere. -Nobody expects Beethoven's "Ninth Symphony" or Bach's "Passion <!-- Page 117 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>Music" -to arouse enthusiasm in accidentally assorted school-children, yet to -all the pupils in a mixed public school are offered the parallel works -of Shakespeare and Milton. Unless a class is made up of boys or girls -with unusual aptitude or wisely and carefully trained to responsiveness -to metrical effect, it seems hardly less idle to offer them "Comus" or -"Lycidas" than it would be to expect them to enjoy a classic concert. -The language of form in the higher range of literature is to them an -unknown tongue.</p> - -<p>Children are likely to be susceptible to marked metrical effects, as -witness their love of "Mother Goose;" but to the more delicate music -of verse they are often largely or completely insensitive. A musical -ear is not, it is probable, to be created, but it is certainly possible -to develop the metrical sense. Children who are born with good native -responsiveness to rhythm often are so badly trained or so neglected -as to seem to have none, and it is part of the office of instruction -to call out whatever powers lie in them latent. This is largely -accomplished by the sort of use of literature which I have called -"inspirational." In the ideal home-training children are so taken -on from the rhymes of the nursery to more advanced literature that -development of the rhythmical sense is continuous and inevitable; but -one of the things which every school-teacher knows best is that this -sort of home-training is rare and the work must be done in the class. -The substitute is a poor one, but it has at <!-- Page 118 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>least some degree of the -universal human responsiveness to rhythm to appeal to.</p> - -<p>Another difficulty is that children have to learn the verbal language -of literature. Much of the atmosphere of a poem, for instance, is -likely to be produced by suggestion, by the mention of legend or -tale or hero, when the reader must find in previous knowledge and -association a key to what is intended. All this is likely to be -largely or entirely lost on children; and yet this is often the -very quintessence of what the author tries to convey. Children are -constantly at the same disadvantage in understanding literature that -they are in comprehending life. They have not gathered the associations -or experienced the emotions which make so large a part of the language -of great writers. All this renders it difficult for the instructor to -be sure that his class has any inkling even of the mood in which a -piece is intended; yet he must first of all be sure that as far as is -possible he has put them, each pupil according to his character and -acquirements, in touch with the spirit of the work to be studied.</p> - -<p>This cannot be done entirely. We cannot hope that a lad of a dozen -years will enter into all the emotions, all the passions of the great -poets. He may, however, be absorbingly interested and thrilled by -"Macbeth," or the "Tempest," or the "Merchant of Venice." He does not -get from these plays all that his elders might get, any more than he -would perceive the full meaning and passion of a tremendous situation -in real life; but he does get <!-- Page 119 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>some portion of the message, some -perception of the deeps and heights of human nature. Even if he find no -more than simple, unreasoning enjoyment, he is gaining unconsciously, -and he is obviously nourishing a love for good literature.</p> - -<p>The question of what is thoroughness in school study of literature -is of much importance, and it is of no less difficulty. Certainly -it is not merely the mastery of technical obscurities of language, -the solving of philological puzzles, or the careful examination of -historical facts. Thoroughness in these things, as has already been -said, may be exactness in learning about literature, but not in the -study of literature itself. Consideration of the average acquirements -of pupils in secondary schools makes it fairly evident, it seems to -me, that the study of technique in any of its phases cannot in these -classes be carried very far without the danger of its degenerating into -the most lifeless formalism; and perhaps in nothing else is the tact -and judgment of the teacher so well shown as in the decision how far it -is wise to carry study along particular lines. I have never encountered -a class even in my college work which I could have set to the subjects -recommended in a book for teachers of literature which advises drilling -the students of the high school on the relations in the plays of -Shakespeare "of metre to character," whatever that may mean. Neither -should I set them to distinguish, as is advised by another text-book, -between "the kinds of imagination employed: (<i>a</i>) Modifying; (<i>b</i>) -<!-- Page 120 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>Reconstructive; (<i>c</i>) Poetical: creative, imperative, or associative." -I could not, indeed, do much with such subjects, from the simple fact -that I do not myself know what such questions mean, and still less -could I answer them. Each instructor, however, must decide for himself, -and with every class decide anew. No fixed standard can be established, -but each case must be settled on its own merits.</p> - - -<hr class="footnotes" /> -<p class="sectctrfn">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_110:1_6" id="Footnote_110:1_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_110:1_6"><span class="label">[110:1]</span></a> The vocabulary, of course, being known before the text -is attempted.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_114:1_7" id="Footnote_114:1_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_114:1_7"><span class="label">[114:1]</span></a> See page <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</p></div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /> -<p><!-- Page 121 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="Chapter_X" id="Chapter_X"></a>X<br /> - -<small>EXAMINATIONAL</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Examinations are at present held to be an essential part of the -machinery of education, and whether we do or do not believe this to -be true, we are as teachers forced to accept them. Especially is it -incumbent on teachers in the secondary schools to pay much attention to -accustoming pupils to these ordeals and to preparing them to go through -them unscathed. Many instructors, as has been said already, become so -completely the slaves to this process that they confine their efforts -to it entirely, and few are able to prevent its taking undue importance -in their work and in the minds of their pupils.</p> - -<p>The general principle should be kept in mind that no examination is of -real value for itself in the training of youth, and that to study for -it directly and explicitly is fatal to all the higher uses of the study -of literature or of anything else. Tests of proficiency and advancement -are necessary, but they should be regarded as tests, and no pains -should be spared to impress upon every student the fact that beyond -this office of measuring attainment they are of no value whatever.</p> - -<p><!-- Page 122 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> -Examinations exist, however, and nothing which can be done directly is -likely to remove from the minds of sub-freshmen the notion that they -study literature largely if not solely for the sake of being able to -struggle successfully with the difficulties of entrance papers. The -only means of combating this idea is the indirect method of making -the study interesting in and for itself; of nourishing a love for -great writings and fostering appreciation of masterpieces. It may be -added, moreover, that this is also the surest way of securing ease and -proficiency on just those lines in which it is the ambition of pedantic -teachers to have their pupils excel. Classes are more effectively -trained for college tests by teaching them to think, to examine for -themselves, to have real responsiveness and feeling for literature, -than they can possibly be by any drill along formal lines. Here as -pretty generally in life the indirect is the surest.</p> - -<p>More is done in the way of preparation for any rational examination, -I believe, by training youth to recognize good literature and to -realize what makes it good, than by any amount of deliberate drill of -especially prescribed works or laborious following out of the lines -indicated by old examination-papers. Much of this is effected by what -has been spoken of as inspirational teaching, the simple training -of children to have real enjoyment of the best. In the lower grades -of school this is all that can be profitably attempted. Before the -student leaves the secondary school, however, he should be <!-- Page 123 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>able for -himself to make in a general way an application of the principles which -underlie literary distinctions. He should be able broadly to recognize -the qualities which belong to the best work. He should be able from -personal experience to appreciate the force of the remarks of De -Quincey:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>What is it that we mean by literature? Popularly, and amongst -the thoughtless, it is held to include everything that is -printed in a book. Little logic is required to disturb this -definition. The most thoughtless person is easily made aware -that in the idea of literature one essential element is some -relation to a general and common interest of man, so that what -applies only to a local or professional or merely personal -interest, even though presenting itself in the shape of a book, -will not belong to literature. . . . Men have so little reflected -on the higher functions of literature as to find it a paradox -if one should describe it as a mean or subordinate purpose of -books to give information. But this is a paradox only in the -sense which makes it honorable to be paradoxical. . . . What do -you learn from "Paradise Lost"? Nothing at all. What do you -learn from a cookery-book? Something new, something you did not -know before, in every paragraph. But would you therefore put -the wretched cookery-book on a higher level of estimation than -the divine poem? What you owe to Milton is not any knowledge, -of which a million separate items are still but a million of -advancing steps on the same earthly level; what you owe is -power, that is, exercise and expansion to your own latent -capacity of sympathy with the infinite, where each pulse and -each separate influx is a step upward, a step ascending as -upon a Jacob's ladder from earth to mysterious altitudes above -the earth. All <!-- Page 124 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>the steps of knowledge, from first to last, -carry you further on the same plane, but could never raise you -one foot above your ancient level of earth; whereas the very -first step in power is a flight, is an ascending movement into -another element where earth is forgotten.—"The Poetry of Pope."</p> -</div> - -<p>If a boy or girl has any vital and personal perception of the truth -which is here so eloquently set forth, this perception affords a -certain criterion by which to judge whatever work comes to hand. It -will also give both the inclination and the power to judge rightly, so -that anything which an examination-paper may legitimately ask is in so -far within the scope of ordinary thought.</p> - -<p>I have ventured, in another chapter, to give some idea of the way -in which I think such a work as "Macbeth" might be treated in -the secondary school. I wish to emphasize the fact that it is an -illustration and not a model. It is the way in which I should do it; -but the teaching of literature, I repeat, is naught if it is not marked -by the personality of the teacher. Of the results to be aimed at one -need not be in doubt; concerning the methods there are and there should -be as many opinions as there are sound and individual instructors. This -illustration I have included because it may serve as a sort of diagram -to make plain things which can only clumsily be presented otherwise, -and because I hope that it may be suggestive even to teachers who -differ widely from this exact method.</p> - -<p>What is aimed at in this manner of treating the <!-- Page 125 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>play is primarily -the enjoyment of the pupil, secondarily the broadening of his -mind, and thirdly the training of his powers for the examinations -inevitably lying in wait for him. It may seem contradictory that I -put pleasure first and yet would begin with straightforward drill on -the vocabulary. Such training, however, is preparatory to the taking -up of literature, I believe it necessary to the best results, and -I have already said that to my mind no need exists for making this -dull. Even if it be looked upon as simple drudgery, however, I should -not shirk it. Children should be taught that they are to meet hard -work pluckily. They cannot evade the multiplication-table without -subsequent inconvenience, and the sooner they realize that this is true -in principle all through life, the better for them. Their enjoyment, -moreover, will be tenfold greater if they earn it by sturdy work.</p> - -<p>It would be well, I believe, if all teachers in the secondary -schools who are in the habit of concerning themselves largely with -examinations and of allowing the minds of those under them to become -fixed on these could realize that readers of blue-books are sure to -be favorably impressed by two things: by the expression of thoughts -obviously individual, and by the evidence of clear thinking. If these -two qualities characterize an examination-book, the chances of its -passing muster are so large that exact formal knowledge counts for -little in comparison. All teachers who are intelligently in earnest -try to put as little stress on examinations as <!-- Page 126 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>is possible under -existing conditions, but not all keep clearly in mind the fact that -the best remedy for possible harm is the cultivation of the student's -individuality.</p> - -<p>The question of written work in preparation for entrance tests is -a difficult one, and it is one which has been largely answered by -the papers set by the colleges. It is natural that teachers who are -entirely aware that their own reputations will largely depend upon the -success of the candidates they send up should endeavor to train their -classes in the especial line of writing which seems best to suit the -ideas of examiners. The principle of selection is not, it seems to me, -a sound one, but it is inevitable. The one thing which may be done is -to make the topics selected as human and as personal as possible: to -insist that the boy or girl who is writing of Lady Macbeth or Hamlet -shall make the strongest effort possible to realize the character as -a real being; shall as far as possible take the attitude of writing -concerning some actual person about whom are known the facts set down -in the play. This is less difficult than it sounds, and while it is -never entirely possible for a child to realize Lady Macbeth as if she -were a neighbor, most children can go much farther in this direction -than is generally appreciated.</p> - -<p>Themes retelling the plot of novel or play are seldom satisfactory. -Satisfactorily to summarize the story of a work of any length requires -more literary grasp than can possibly be expected in a secondary -<!-- Page 127 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>school. It is far better to set the wits of children to work to fill up -gaps of time in the stories as they are originally written; to imagine -what Macbeth and his wife had said to each other before he goes to the -chamber of Duncan in the second act, for instance, or the talk between -Silas Marner and Eppie after the visit in which Godfrey Cass disclosed -himself as the girl's father. These are not easy subjects, and it is -not to be expected that the grade of work produced will be high, but it -is at least likely to be original and genuine.</p> - -<p>Description is a snare into which it is easy for teacher or pupil -to fall. It generally means the more or less conscious imitation of -passages from the reading, or a sort of crazy-quilt of scraps in which -sentences of the author are clumsily pieced together. In the highest -grades good work may sometimes be obtained by asking pupils to describe -the setting of a scene in a play, but this is far too difficult for -most classes.</p> - -<p>Examination of character, of situations, or of motives affords the best -opportunity for written work in connection with literary study. To make -literary study subordinate to the practice of composition is manifestly -wrong, yet in many schools this is done in practice even if it is not -justified in theory. Children should be taught to write by other means -than by themes in connection with the masterpieces of literature. The -old cry against using "Paradise Lost," and the soliloquies of Hamlet -as exercises in parsing might well be repeated with <!-- Page 128 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>added emphasis of -the modern fashion of making Shakespeare and Milton mere adjuncts to a -course in composition. The written work is, of course, to be corrected -where it is faulty, but its chief purpose should never be anything -outside of the better understanding and appreciation of the authors -read.</p> - -<p>In a brief, sensible pamphlet on "Methods of Teaching of Novels" May -Estelle Cook remarks:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>There is another point which I should like to make for the -study of character, though with some hesitation, since there -is room for great difference of opinion about it. It is this: -that the study of character leads directly to the exercise of -the moral instinct. Whether we like it or not, it is true that -the school-boy—even the boy, and much more the girl—will -raise the question, "Is it right?" and "Is it wrong?" and -that we must either answer or ignore these questions. My own -feeling about it is that this irrepressible moral instinct -was included by Providence partly for the purpose of making a -special diversion in favor of the English teacher. . . . A boy -will read scenes in "Macbeth" through a dozen times for the -sake of deciding whether Macbeth or Lady Macbeth was chiefly -responsible for the murder of Duncan, when he will read them -only once for the story; and this extra zeal is not so much -because he wants to satisfy a craving for facts, as because he -enjoys fixing praise or blame. . . . My experience with the Sir -Roger de Coverley papers has been that the class failed to get -any imaginative grasp of them until I frankly appealed to the -moral instinct by asking, "What did Addison mean to teach in -this paper?" "Did the Eighteenth Century need that lesson?" and -"Do we still need it?" By that process the class have finally -reached a grasp <!-- Page 129 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>of Sir Roger which has given them fortitude to -write a theme on "Sir Roger at an Afternoon Tea."</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">My own definition of imagination is evidently not that of the writer, -and I am not able to agree that this appeal to the moral instinct -develops anything other than an intellectual understanding; but that -point is unimportant here. The thing which is to be noted is that -on the moral side children may be able to think intelligently and -individually in regard to the characters and the situations of the -plays and the novels read. The teacher, in choosing such subjects for -written work, must, of course, be careful to avoid topics which have -already been considered in the book itself. In a novel by George Eliot, -for instance, all possible moral issues are likely to be so discussed -and rediscussed by the novelist as to leave little room for the -thought of the reader to exercise itself independently; but in all the -plays of Shakespeare, and in the fiction of most of the masters, the -opportunities are ample.</p> - -<p>The supreme test of any subject which is to be given to students in -their written work is whether it is one upon which it is reasonable -to suppose they can and will have thought which is individual and -therefore original. If it were necessary to make nice distinctions -between that which is and that which is not legitimately part of the -study of literature as an art, one must go much further than this. The -writing of themes, however, is part of the examinational side of the -work; the main thing is <!-- Page 130 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>to be sure that it is not dwelt upon more -than is necessary, and that it is within the range of the personal -experience of the student. If teachers feel compelled to set their -classes to write formal and lifeless themes on pedantic topics such -as too often appear in examination-papers, they will do well to keep -in mind that this is not the study of literature, but a stultifying -process which lessens the power of appreciation and replaces -intelligent comprehension by mechanical imitation.</p> - -<hr class="thoughtbreak" /> - -<p>In connection with the subject of this chapter I may mention a -device which may not be without practical value in secondary-school -examinations. It affords a means of discovering how well the student -is succeeding in grasping general principles and in making actual -application of them; while at the same time it should impress upon him -the fact that he is not studying merely a series of required readings, -but the nature and qualities of literature.</p> - -<p>On an examination-paper in second-year English at the Institute of -Technology was put this test:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>It is assumed that the student has never read the following -extract. State what seem its excellent points (<i>a</i>) of -workmanship; (<i>b</i>) of thought; (<i>c</i>) of imagination.</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">To this was added a brief extract from some standard author.</p> - -<p>The opening statement was made in order that <!-- Page 131 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>the class should -understand the selection to be not from any required reading, but from -some work presumably entirely unfamiliar. The points of excellence only -were asked for in order to fix attention on merits; and indirectly -to strengthen, so far as might be, the perception of the importance -of looking in literature for merits rather than for defects. It is -undoubtedly proper that scholars should be able to perceive defects, -but this power is best trained by educating them to be sensitive and -responsive to excellencies.<a name="FNanchor_131:1_8" id="FNanchor_131:1_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_131:1_8" class="fnanchor">[131:1]</a></p> - -<p>The necessities of time made it impossible to put upon the papers of -which I am speaking extracts of much length, and the class were told -that not much was expected in comment upon the thought expressed. -The purpose of the question, that of seeing how intelligently they -were able to apply such principles as they had learned, was also -frankly put. They were warned against generalities and statements -unsupported. Then they were left to their own devices. The results -were all suggestive, and of course were of widely varying degrees of -merit. A few samples may be given, chosen, I confess, from those more -interesting. On one paper were the opening lines of the second book of -"Paradise Lost."</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">High on a throne of royal state, which far</div> - <div class="line">Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind,</div> - <div class="line">Or where the gorgeous east with richest hand</div> - <div class="line">Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold,</div> - <div class="line">Satan exalted sat.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent"><!-- Page 132 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -Among the comments were these:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>Of the workmanship of this selection we may say that it is -good. The selection of words is especially forcible. "Gorgeous -east" and "richest hand" are extremely so. But what I consider -a fine use of a word is the word "barbaric." Here we can see -the early inhabitants of the uncivilized rich countries of the -east; the inhabitants ignorant of the value of their wealth, -throwing it around as we would the pebbles on a beach. The -thought and the imagination are good. We can see before us the -vividly portrayed picture. There sits Satan high above his -surrounding in such rich and dazzling magnificence that it -outshines even the richest kings of the richest part of the -world.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="bqthoughtbreak" /> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>The best point of the workmanship consists in placing the -description first and not completing the thought until the last -line; thus keeping the reader in suspense, and causing careful -attention to be put on all the sentence. The words "high," -"throne," "royal," and "exalted" combine to bring out the -thought of Satan's majesty. The thought of unbounded wealth is -brought out by the use of the word "showers" in the third line. -The author is able to give us a much more vivid idea of the -magnificence of the throne by letting us construct the throne -to suit ourselves than by giving a detailed description and -leaving nothing to the imagination. Even the materials are only -suggested, the whole idea being one of unbounded wealth and -splendor.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="bqthoughtbreak" /> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>The choice of words is one of the best points in the -workmanship of the quotation. The arrangement also adds -emphasis. All the descriptions of the throne are so vivid that -the mind is deeply impressed by the splendor and richness of -the throne. The "gorgeous east" <!-- Page 133 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>is very expressive of wealth -and beauty. With this arrangement of words the piece becomes -very striking and the choice of the strongest words is shown -too in touch with the whole sentence. Whereas on the other hand -if any other arrangement had been used much of the force of -these words would have been lost. The thought of the extract -is to describe the great wealth and beauty with which Satan is -surrounded. The writer must have a very vivid imagination to -describe such a scene of wealth and beauty. The first word, -"High," appeals directly to the imagination and immediately -gives the impression of power.</p> -</div> - -<p>These answers were written by boys who had not been called upon to do -anything of the sort before, and while their inadequacy is evident -enough, they are genuine, and are sound as far as they go. Of course, -after such a test, the first business of the teacher is to go over the -selection and to show how he would himself have answered the question. -The class is then ready to appreciate qualities which might be recited -to them in vain before they have set their minds to the problem. In -the examples I have given no one has touched, for instance, upon the -suggestiveness of the words "Ormus" and "Ind," but very little is -needed to make them see this after they have had the passage in an -examination-paper.</p> - -<p>A couple of examples dealing with the first two stanzas of Byron's -"Destruction of Sennacherib" may be given by way of showing how a -different selection was treated.</p> - -<p><!-- Page 134 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>The first thing I noticed in reading the extract was the -perfect rhythm. You cannot read the extract without wanting -to say it aloud. Then the choice of words struck me: "The -<em>sheen</em> of their spears;" "when summer is <em>green</em>." It is hard -for me to distinguish workmanship, thought, and imagination. -I cannot tell whether the words and metaphors used in the -extract were the result of deliberate choice and of long -thought; but I strongly suspect that he saw the whole thing in -his imagination, and the words just came to him. It is hard -to understand how anything that reads so smoothly could have -been written with labor. The strongest point of the extract -seems to be its richness in illustration: "The Assyrian came -down like the wolf on the fold." No long, detailed description -could explain better the wildness of such an attack, the sudden -swoop of some half-barbaric horde, striking suddenly, and then -disappearing into the night. "The sheen of the spears was like -stars on the sea." The flash from a spear would be just such a -gleam as the reflected star from the crest of a wave, visible -for a moment and then gone.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="bqthoughtbreak" /> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>Some of its excellent points of workmanship are melody and -selection of words. The melody is excellent. It has a soothing -effect when read aloud, and there is not a place where -one would hesitate in regard to the accenting of words. I -believe the melody is so good that a person only knowing the -pronunciation of the first line could almost read the rest -of it correctly because the sound of each line is so closely -connected with that of all other lines. The selection of words -is very good. There is not a place where a substitution could -be made which would improve the meaning, sense, or melody. The -extract shows great thought. In the last paragraph especially -where the Assyrians are compared to <!-- Page 135 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>the leaves of summer and -in autumn. No better thought could bring out more clearly how -badly the host was defeated. In the first paragraph it also -compares the Assyrians to a wolf coming down upon a fold. -This again gives a definite idea, and seems to point out how -confident they were of victory. The imagination is very vivid. -You can almost think you were on the field and that all the -events were taking place before you.</p> -</div> - -<p>I have copied these partly to emphasize the point that it is idle to -expect too much, and partly to illustrate the form in which genuine -perception is likely to work out upon a school examination-paper. These -have not been chosen as the best papers written, but each is good -because each shows sincere opinion.</p> - -<p>This sort of question is of course in the line of what is constantly -done in class, but it is after all a different thing when it is made -to emphasize the idea that an examination is a test of the power to -appreciate literature instead of an exercise of memory.</p> - - -<hr class="footnotes" /> -<p class="sectctrfn">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_131:1_8" id="Footnote_131:1_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_131:1_8"><span class="label">[131:1]</span></a> See page <a href="#Page_205">205</a>.</p></div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /><p><!-- Page 136 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="Chapter_XI" id="Chapter_XI"></a>XI<br /> - -<small>THE STUDY OF PROSE</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Method in teaching is properly the adaptation of the personality of -a given teacher to the personality of a given class. It cannot be -defined by hard and fast rules, and the only value in presenting such -illustrations as the following is that they may afford hints which -teachers will be able with advantage to develop in terms of their own -individuality. The way that is wise in one is never to be set down as -the way best for another; and here as elsewhere I offer not a model -but simply an illustration. If it suggest, it has fulfilled a better -purpose than if it were taken blindly as a rigid guide.</p> - -<p>My own feeling would be that classes in literature should be provided -with nothing but the bare text, without notes of any kind unless with -a glossary of terms not to be found in available books of reference. -In the matter of looking up difficulties the books of reference in the -school library should be used; and if the school has no library beyond -the dictionary, I should still hold to my opinion. The vocabulary may -be very largely worked out with any fairly comprehensive dictionary, -and what cannot be discovered in this way is better taken <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">viva voce</i><!-- Page 137 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> -in recitation than swallowed from notes without even the trouble of -asking. Much will be done, moreover, by the not unhealthy spirit of -emulation which is sure to exist where the pupils are set to use their -wits and to report the result in class. They will remember much better; -and, what in general education is of the very first importance, they -will have admirable practice in the use of books of reference. Many -difficulties must be explained by the teacher; but this, I insist, is -better than the following of notes, a habit which is sure to degenerate -into lifeless memorizing. The model text for school use would be -cut in those few passages not suited for the school-room, would be -clearly printed, and would be as free as possible from any outside -matter whatever. In the case of poetry the ideal method would be to -keep the text out of the hands of the student altogether until all -work necessary to the mastering of the vocabulary had been done: but -in practice such voluntary reading as a pupil chose to do beforehand -would do no harm other than possibly to distract his attention from -the learning of the meaning of words and phrases. In prose he will -generally be in a key which allows the interruption of a pause for -looking up words without much injury to the effect of the work.</p> - -<p>The study of prose is of course directed by the same principles as that -of poetry, but the application is in school-work somewhat modified -in details. In the first place the vocabulary of any prose used -<!-- Page 138 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>in the schools is not likely to contain obsolete words such as are -found in Shakespeare, and in the second place the length of a novel -forbids its being read aloud in class in its entirety. I have taken my -illustrations chiefly from books included in the College Requirements, -because these books are the ones with which the majority of teachers -are obliged to work. The Sir Roger de Coverley papers are sure to -be taken up in any school-room where literature is studied to-day, -and Burke "On Conciliation" is one of the inevitable obstacles in -the way of every boy who wishes to enter college. Whatever the work, -however, the important thing is that each pupil shall understand, shall -appreciate, and shall connect what he reads with his own life.</p> - -<p>The order in which different works are taken up in class is a matter -of much moment. No rules can be given arbitrarily to govern the -arrangement of the readings, since much depends upon the individual -class to be dealt with. On general principles, for instance, it might -seem that Burke's "Speech," as being the least imaginative of the -prescribed work, might well come first; but on the other hand, the -argument demands intellectual capacity and maturity which will often -require that it be not put before a given group of scholars until they -have had all the training they can gain from the other requirements. -A teacher can hardly afford to have any rule in the whole treatment -of literature which is not so flexible that it may be modified or -<!-- Page 139 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>disregarded entirely when circumstances require. The ideal method, -perhaps, would be to give a class first a few short pieces as tests, -and then to arrange their longer work upon the basis of the result.</p> - -<p>If the "Speech" is to be taken up first or last, it must be preceded by -a clear understanding of the history of the conditions with which Burke -dealt. This knowledge should have been obtained in the history class, -and the use of facts obtained in another branch affords one of the -opportunities for doing that useful thing which should be kept always -in sight, the enforcing of the fact that all education is one, although -for convenience of handling necessarily divided into various branches. -If the class has not had the requisite instruction in history, the -teacher of English is forced to pause and supply the deficiency, as -it is hopeless to try to go on without it. The argument of Burke is -pretty tough work for any class of high-school students, and without -familiarity with the circumstances which called it forth is utterly -unintelligible.</p> - -<p>The vocabulary of Burke contains few words which need to be studied -beforehand, and indeed it is perhaps better to treat the speech as -so far a logical rather than an imaginative work that without other -preparation than a thorough mastery of the circumstances under which -it was delivered and of the political issues with which it dealt the -class may be given the text directly. In the first reading the thing -to be insured is the intelligent comprehension of the language and of -the argument. <!-- Page 140 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>In the first half-dozen paragraphs, for instance, such -passages as these must be made perfectly clear:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>I hope, Sir, that notwithstanding the austerity of the Chair, -your good nature will incline you to some degree of indulgence -toward human frailty.</p> - -<p>The grand penal bill.</p> - -<p>Returned to us from the other House.</p> - -<p>We are not at all embarrassed (unless we please to make -ourselves so) by any incongruous mixture of coercion and -restraint.</p> - -<p>From being blown about by every wind of fashionable doctrine.</p> -</div> - -<p>This is clear enough in meaning, but the class should notice the -suggestion of the biblical phrase which insinuates that a good deal of -the political fluctuation which has complicated the question of the -treatment of the colonies has been like the hysterical instability of -those who run after every fresh eccentricity offered in the name of -religion.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>I really did not think it safe or manly to have fresh -principles to seek upon every fresh mail that should arrive -from America.</p> - -<p>It is in your equity to judge.</p> - -<p>Parliament, having an enlarged view of objects.</p> - -<p>A situation which I will not miscall, which I dare not name.</p> - -<p>That the public tribunal (never too indulgent to a long and -unsuccessful opposition) would now scrutinize our conduct with -unusual severity.</p> - -<p>We must produce our hand.</p> - -<p>Somewhat disreputably.</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent"><!-- Page 141 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> -The whole oration is studded with passages such as these, and it is -the habit of too many instructors to expect the student to depend upon -notes for the solution of such difficulties. I have already indicated -that I believe this to be an unwise and weakening process; and in a -political document of this sort a drill for elucidating difficulties -may well be undertaken when in an imaginative work more latitude may be -allowed in the way of sliding over them.</p> - -<p>The reading of the speech as a whole could hardly be attempted with any -profit until the class has mastered its technicalities and its logic. -The oration differs in this from more imaginative literature. Here it -is not only proper but necessary to make analysis part of the first -reading.</p> - -<p>The class should for itself make a summary of the speech as it goes -forward. For each paragraph should be devised a single sentence which -gives clearly and concisely the thought, so that at the conclusion a -complete skeleton shall have been made. Each student should make these -sentences for himself as part of his preparation of a lesson, and from -a comparison in the class the final form may be selected. Some of the -school editions do this admirably, but one of two things seems to me -indisputable: either the "Speech" is too difficult for students to -handle or they should make their own summaries. To do this part of the -work for them is to deprive the study of its most valuable element. -The best justification such a selection <!-- Page 142 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>can have for its inclusion -in the list of required books is that it may fairly be used for this -careful analytical work without prejudice to the effect of the piece as -a whole. In other words, no objection exists to treating this especial -selection first from the purely intellectual point of view. To consider -a play of Shakespeare first intellectually would seem to me utterly -wrong; but this argument of Burke is intentionally addressed to the -reason rather than to the imagination, and would therefore logically be -so read.</p> - -<p>Beside the mere interpretation of difficult passages, the pupil should -be made to discern and to weigh the value and effect of the admirable -sentences in which the orator has condensed whole trains of logic.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>The concessions of the weak are the concessions of fear.</p> - -<p>A wise and salutary neglect.</p> - -<p>The power of refusal, the first of all revenues.</p> - -<p>The voluntary flow of heaped-up plenty.</p> - -<p>All government—indeed, every human benefit and enjoyment, -every virtue and every prudent act—is founded on compromise -and barter.</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">The study of phrases of this sort is admirable training for the -reasoning faculties of the scholar, it educates the powers of reading, -and it may be made a continuous lesson in the nature and value of -literary technique. Of this study of literary workmanship I shall speak -later; here it is sufficient to point the necessity at once and the -advantage <!-- Page 143 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>of dwelling on these vital thoughts so admirably expressed.</p> - -<p>By the time the oration has been gone through with, and a summary of -each paragraph made in the class, a skeleton is ready from which the -argument may be considered as a whole. In some schools students will be -able to criticise from an historical point of view, and any intelligent -boy to whom the oration is given for study should be able to judge of -the logic of the plea.</p> - -<p>If the "Speech" is to justify its claim to being literature in the -higher sense, however, it is not possible to stop with the intellectual -study. The question of what constitutes literature is better taken up, -it seems to me, near the end of the course of secondary work, if it is -to come in at all; but preparation for dealing with that question must -come all along the line. When Burke has been studied for his political -meanings, his argument summed up and examined, the intellectual force -of the parts and of the whole sufficiently considered, then it is -necessary to look at the imaginative qualities of the work.</p> - -<p>I would never set children to examine any piece of prose or verse for -any qualities until I was sure they understood what they are to look -for. If they are to examine the oration for imaginative passages, -they must first know clearly what an imaginative passage is. Here the -previous training of the class is to be reckoned with. Some classes -must be taught the significance of the term "imaginative" <!-- Page 144 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>by having -the passages pointed out to them and then analyzed; others are so far -advanced as to be able to discover them. The thing I wish to emphasize -is that when the simply intellectual study has progressed far enough, -the imaginative must follow. Passages which may be used here are such -as these:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>My plan . . . does not propose to fill your lobby with squabbling -colony agents, who will require the interposition of your -mace at every instant to keep peace among them. It does not -institute a magnificent auction of finance, where captivated -provinces come to general ransom by bidding against each other, -until you knock down the hammer, and determine a proportion of -payments beyond all powers of algebra to equalize and settle.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="bqthoughtbreak" /> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>Such is the strength with which population shoots in that part -of the world, that, state the numbers as high as we will, -whilst the dispute continues, the exaggeration ends.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="bqthoughtbreak" /> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>Look at the manner in which the people of New England have of -late carried on the whale fishery. Whilst we follow them among -the tumbling mountains of ice, and behold them penetrating into -the deepest frozen recesses of Hudson Bay and Davis Strait, -whilst we are looking for them beneath the Arctic Circle, we -hear that they have pierced into the opposite region of polar -cold, that they are at the antipodes and engaged under the -frozen Serpent of the south. Falkland Island, which seemed -too remote and romantic an object for the grasp of national -ambition, is but a stage and resting-place in the progress <!-- Page 145 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>of -their victorious industry. Nor is the equinoctial heat more -discouraging to them than the accumulated winter of both poles. -We know that while some of them draw the line and strike the -harpoon on the coast of Africa, others run the longitude and -pursue their gigantic game along the coast of Brazil. No sea -but is vexed by their fisheries. No climate that is not witness -of their toils.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="bqthoughtbreak" /> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>A people who are still, as it were, but in the gristle, and not -yet hardened into the bone of manhood.</p> -</div> - -<p>Passages of this sort are frequent in the speech, and it is not -difficult to make the pupils not only recognize them, but appreciate -the quality which distinguishes them from the matter-of-fact statements -of figures, statistics, or other necessary information.</p> - -<p>A step further is to make the class see how the imagination shows in a -passage like the famous sentence:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>I do not know the method of drawing up an indictment against a -whole people.</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">These dozen or so words may profitably be made the subject for an -entire lesson, and if this seem a proportionately extravagant amount -of time to give to a single line, I can only say that to do one thing -thoroughly is not only better than to do a score superficially, but in -the long run it is economy of time as well. If the class can be led to -discuss the meaning of the phrase, and the principles upon which Burke -rested the argument which is behind this superb proposition, not only -will the hour have been well <!-- Page 146 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>spent in developing the ideas of the -students, but the whole oration will be wonderfully illuminated. When -to this is added an adequate understanding of the imaginative grasp -which seizes the personality of a whole nation, perceives its majesty, -its sovereignty, and the impossibility of arraigning it before the bar -like a criminal, the student is getting the best that the study of the -oration can give him.</p> - -<p>Written work should be kept within the limits of the capability of -the individual pupil to think intelligently. Perhaps the best means -of enforcing upon a class the vigor of Burke's style at once and the -completeness of the oration as a whole is that of requiring from each -an expression, as clear and as exact as possible, of just what the -orator wished to effect, and an estimate, as critical as the pupil is -capable of making, of how the means employed were especially adapted -to carry out his purpose. Such work will be useless if the teacher -does the reasoning, but much may be elicited by skilful leading in -recitation, and after the scholars have done all that they can do, the -instructor may add his comment.</p> - -<p>After the "Speech on Conciliation" may reasonably come, if the required -list of readings is being followed, the "Sir Roger de Coverley Papers." -Here one deals with work more deliberately imaginative. Preparation -for taking up these essays should begin with a brief account of the -"Spectator" and of the circumstances under which they were written. The -less elaborate this is the better, so long as it serves <!-- Page 147 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>the purpose of -giving the class some notion of the point of view; and indeed it is to -be doubted whether as a matter of fact any great harm would be done if -even this were omitted. What is needed is to interest the class in the -work, and facts about times and circumstances seldom effect much real -good in this study.</p> - -<p>The vocabulary will give little trouble. It is well to be sure that -the readers understand beforehand such words as may be rather remote -from daily speech. In the account of the club (March 2, 1710-11), -for instance, the list given out for test might include such terms -as these: baronet, country-dance, shire, humor, modes, Soho-square, -quarter-sessions, game-act. In the first paragraph, from which these -words are taken, are also two or three phrases which should be familiar -before the reading is undertaken: "never dressed afterward," "in -his merry humors," "rather beloved than esteemed," and "justice of -the quorum." The historical allusions, as represented by the names -Lord Rochester, Sir George Etherege, and Dawson, go also into this -preliminary study.</p> - -<p>The paper should be first read as a whole, with no other interruption -than may come in the form of questions from the class. The teacher -should make no effort at anything here but intelligent reading. Then -the paper may be given out for careful study; the form of this may be -varied at the pleasure of the teacher and the needs of the class. The -presentation of character is the point to be <!-- Page 148 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>most strongly brought -out, and this must be done delicately but as completely as possible. -The "De Coverley Papers" necessarily seem to the modern youth extremely -remote from actual life as he knows it, and the majority of Institute -students with whom I have talked admit that they found Addison very -quiet, or, in their own phrase, "slow." The characters are accordingly -apt to appear to them dim and unreal; to be hardly more alive than the -figures on an ancient tapestry. This feeling cannot be wholly overcome, -especially in the limited time which is at the command of the teacher -of school literature, yet whatever vividness of impression a reader -of the essays gets is directly proportional to the extent to which -Sir Roger and his friends emerge from the land of shadows, and seem -to the boys and girls genuine flesh and blood. The chief care of the -instructor in dealing with these papers, the aim to which everything -else should be subordinated, is to encourage and to develop the sense -of reality. The little touches by which the personality of the old -knight is shown must be dwelt upon as each appears; and in the end a -summary of these may be made as a means of stating briefly but clearly -Sir Roger's character. Constantly, too, by means homely enough to -be clearly and easily intelligible to the class, must each of these -passages be connected with the personal experiences of the children. -In the essay generally headed "Sir Roger at Home," for instance, the -author remarks:</p> - -<p><!-- Page 149 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>Sir Roger, who is very well acquainted with my humor, lets me -rise and go to bed when I please; dine at his own table, or in -my chamber, as I think fit; sit still, and say nothing, without -bidding me be merry.</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">The whole situation, that of a notable man's visit to a country -squire, is utterly foreign to the pupil's probable experience. He can, -however, be made to recall occasions in which he has been considered -and his wishes consulted. He may or may not as a guest have tested -different forms of hospitality, but he easily decides how under given -circumstances he would wish to be treated. From this he is without -difficulty led to an appreciation of the consideration with which Sir -Roger was intent not upon his own wishes or the ease of his household, -but upon the pleasure of his guest. Few boys or girls can have come to -the school age without understanding what a drawback to good spirits -it is to be told to be merry, and they can appreciate the common sense -of the knight in thinking of this, and his tact in not bothering his -guest. The same thoughtful kindness is shown in the way Sir Roger -protected his lion from sightseers. Incidentally the point may be made -in passing that Addison humorously took this means of impressing on the -reader of the "Spectator" the importance of the supposed writer.</p> - -<p>The best preparation a teacher can make for dealing with these -essays is to get clearly into his own mind the personality, the -characteristics, even the outward appearance of each of the characters -<!-- Page 150 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>dealt with. It is impossible to make these quiet and delicately drawn -pictures real and alive unless we have for them a genuine love and a -sense of acquaintance; and I know of no method by which in practical -work this can be communicated except by the vivifying of such passages -as that quoted above.</p> - -<p>Each student should bring to the class a statement of what he regards -as the chief thought in each paper as it comes up,—not the moral of -the paper, but the chief end which the writer seems to have in view, -the thought which most strongly strikes the reader. These opinions -should be talked over in class, and from them one produced which at -least the majority of the class are willing to accept. No pupil, -however, should be discouraged from holding to his own original -proposition, or from adopting a view at variance with that of the -majority.</p> - -<p>Always if possible,—and personally I should make it possible, even at -the sacrifice of other things,—the paper should last of all be read -as a whole without interruption. The fact should always be kept before -the minds of the pupils that the essay is not a collection of detached -facts or thoughts, but that it is a whole, and that it can fairly be -received only in its entirety.</p> - -<hr class="thoughtbreak" /> - -<p>To stretch out illustrations of the teaching of particular books would -only be tedious, and I trust I have done enough to make evident what I -believe <!-- Page 151 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>should be the spirit of work done in the "studying" of prose -in the secondary schools. The matter is of comparative simplicity as -contrasted with the handling of poetry; and I have therefore reserved -most of my space for the latter. No one knows better than I that any -formal method is fatal to real and vital work; and what I have written -has been largely inspired by a knowledge that many instructors are at a -loss to formulate any rational method at all, while others, I am forced -sorrowfully to add, seem never even to have perceived that any method -is possible.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /> -<p><!-- Page 152 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="Chapter_XII" id="Chapter_XII"></a>XII<br /> - -<small>THE STUDY OF THE NOVEL</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Whatever may be the entrance requirements and whatever the prescribed -course in the way of fiction, I should begin the study of the novel -with a modern book. To hold the attention of the majority of modern -children long enough for them to form any adequate idea of the quality -and characteristics of any work of the length of an ordinary novel, -long enough for them to gain an idea which conceives of the work -as a whole and not as a collection of detached scenes and scraps, -is sufficiently difficult in any case. It should not be made more -difficult by selecting as a text a book requiring effort in the -understanding of vocabulary, point of view, setting, and the rest. -"Ivanhoe" is good in its place, but it is not adapted to use as first -aid to the untrained. It is probable that a class after sufficient -experience in fiction may be able to handle "Silas Marner," and it is -apparently fated by the powers that be that they must struggle with -"The Vicar of Wakefield;" but they certainly need preliminary practice -before they are set to grapple with those fictions so remote from -their daily lives. They should begin with something as near their own -world as possible; and "Treasure Island," the scene laid in the land -of boyhood's imaginings, is <!-- Page 153 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>an excellent example of the sort of story -which may well be used to introduce them to the serious consideration -of this branch of literature.</p> - -<p>A little preliminary talk may well precede the actual reading. The -teacher should be sure that the class has a fair idea of what piracy -is,—a matter generally of little difficulty,—and of the social -conditions under which the tale begins. The actual geography of the -romance need not be considered much, although students lose nothing if -they are trained to the habit of knowing accurately the location of -such real places as are named in any story; but the imaginary geography -of the tale, the topography of the island, should be well mastered. -Beyond this, the teacher should have prepared a list of words to be -learned before any reading is done. This should include all those in -the first assignment that are likely to bother the child in the first -going over of the text. In the opening chapter, for instance, such -words as these:</p> - -<ul class="list"> - <li>Buccaneer (title of Part I).</li> - <li>Capstan bars.</li> - <li>Connoisseur.</li> - <li>Dry Tortugas.</li> - <li>Spanish Main.</li> - <li>Hawker.</li> - <li>Assizes.</li> -</ul> - -<p class="noindent">In this chapter are a couple of allusions to the costume of the time, -but as they are intelligible only when taken as sentences they may be -left for the reading in class:</p> - -<p><!-- Page 154 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p> -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>One of the cocks of his hat having fallen down.</p> - -<p>The neat, bright doctor, with his powder as white as snow.</p> -</div> - -<p>When the class comes together the vocabulary is to be taken up as a -solid and distinct task, and after that is disposed of, the text may -follow. It is generally impossible to give the time to the reading -aloud of an entire novel; but I am inclined to believe that at least -the opening chapters, the portion of the story which must be most -deliberately considered if the young reader is to go on with the tale -in full possession of the atmosphere and the characters as they are -introduced, should always be thus taken up. The portions assigned -for each lesson must be brief at first, but may wisely increase as -the interest grows and familiarity with personages and situations is -enlarged.</p> - -<p>The first chapter, then, having been read aloud, the class may make a -list of the characters introduced: Squire Trelawney, Dr. Livesey, the -old pirate not yet named, the father, the "I" who is telling the story. -The seaman who brings the chest and the neighbors are obviously of no -permanent importance.</p> - -<p>Of these characters the class should give orally so much of an -impression as they have obtained from this chapter. This is simple with -the buccaneer, fairly easy in regard to Dr. Livesey and the inn-keeper, -but more difficult in the case of the boy. The paragraph beginning:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>How that personage haunted my dreams, I need scarcely tell <span class="nospace">you—</span></p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent"><!-- Page 155 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> -and the opening sentence of the following paragraph:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>But though I was so terrified by the idea of the seafaring man -with one leg, I was far less afraid of the captain himself than -anybody else who knew <span class="nospace">him—</span></p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">give admirable material for class discussion. The first should appeal -to the children, who must be made to understand that to Jim Hawkins the -one-legged seafaring man was not a mere idea, but an actual personage -for whom he was set to watch, and of whom even the terrible old Billy -Bones was mortally afraid. The second at once illustrates how the -unknown was more frightful to the lad than the veritable flesh and -blood pirate; and it shows also by excellent contrast how terrifying -the buccaneer was to the frequenters of the inn.</p> - -<p>For the second chapter the vocabulary would for most classes include -such words as</p> - -<ul class="list"> - <li>Cutlass.</li> - <li>Talons.</li> - <li>Chine.</li> - <li>Lancet.</li> -</ul> - -<p class="noindent">The expressions which should be made clear in class would include:</p> - -<ul class="list"> - <li>Cleared the hilt of his cutlass.</li> - <li>Showed a wonderfully clean pair of heels.</li> - <li>Fouled the tap.</li> - <li>Stake my wig.</li> - <li>Open a vein.</li> -</ul> - -<p>This chapter has a number of delicate touches which should be brought -to the notice of the class; <!-- Page 156 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>such as the lump in the throat of Black -Dog while he waited for the pirate in moral terror; his clever excuse -for having the door left open apparently that he might be sure Jim was -not listening, but in reality that he might have a way of escape in -case of danger; the picture of the gallows in the tattooing.</p> - -<p>The characters of Billy Bones and Jim are added to in the chapter, -and that of the doctor made more clear. The touch by which the boy is -made to feel compassion for the pirate when Bones turns so ghastly at -the sight of Black Dog is one which should not be missed. The story, -too, begins to develop, and the youthful reader must be unusually -insensitive if he does not speculate upon the past of Bones and upon -the relation of the pirate with Black Dog.</p> - -<p>It is not necessary to go on with this sort of analysis, for the method -I am detailing must be essentially that of most teachers. If the points -mentioned seem to some over-minute, I can only say that since the -aim is to teach children how to handle fiction, the task of training -them to be intelligently careful in their reading is of the first -importance. There is no risk of making them finical or too minutely -observant. This is moreover the <em>study</em> of a novel, and it should be -more careful than reading is supposed to be. It is morally certain -that any child will fall below the standard set, and it is therefore -necessary to have the standard as high as it can be without tiring or -confusing the children.</p> - -<p><!-- Page 157 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -When the book has been gone through in this way comes the important -question of dealing with it as a whole. It would hardly be wise to ask -children directly what they think of a book as a complete work; and yet -that is the thing at which the teacher wishes to arrive. The way has -been prepared by the study of character and the discussion of incident -throughout. In the end the subject of character as it is seen from the -beginning of the tale to the close may easily lead the way to making -up some estimate of the book as a unit. First, do the persons in the -romance act consistently; second, do the incidents follow along so that -they seem really to have happened. These questions will at first have a -tendency to bewilder young readers, who are likely to accept anything -in a romance as if it were true, and to have no judgment beyond the -matter whether the book does or does not interest them. It is not to -be expected that they will go very deep or be very broad in their -dealing with such points in the case of a first novel, but they can -make a beginning. They cannot in the book in question go far in what is -the natural third question concerning a book as a whole: Does it show -clearly and truly the development of character under the circumstances -of the story. Jim Hawkins is at the end of the book manifestly older -and more manly than at the start, as shown, for instance, by his -refusal to break his word to Silver when the doctor talks with him -over the stockade and urges him to come away with <!-- Page 158 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>him. With the other -characters it is more the bringing out of traits already existing than -the developing of new ones. John Silver is of course by far the most -masterly figure in the book—although the student should be allowed -to have his own idea in regard to this. Indeed, one of the ways in -which he judges and should judge a book as a whole is by deciding what -personage in it is, all things considered and the story taken all -through, most clearly and sharply defined. The class should be able to -see and to appreciate how the tale as it progresses brings to light one -phase after another of the amazing character of Silver, up to his pluck -at the moment when the treasure-seekers discover that the gold has been -taken away from the cache and to his humble attitude toward the Squire -when the cave of Ben Gunn is reached.</p> - -<p>Lastly, perhaps,—for I do not insist upon the order in which these -points should be taken up, but only give them in the sequence which to -me seems likely to be most natural and effective,—the class should -be brought to appreciate the construction of the book. This involves -obviously the way in which the author weaves together incidents so that -each shall have a part in the general scheme; but it also involves the -way in which he brings out the part that the individual traits and -character of the persons in the story had in leading up to the end. In -"Treasure Island," for instance, it is easy to show how one thing leads -to another, and how out of the chain no link could be taken without -breaking <!-- Page 159 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>the continuity. This should not be impressed upon the class, -however, as a matter of invention on the part of the author. Children -know that the book is a fiction, but they prefer to ignore this. It is -not well to make the fact part of the instruction. The way to handle -this is to dwell upon the skill with which he has arranged particulars, -and passed in his narrative from one party to another so as to have -each incident clear. Pupils may be reminded of how easy it is to mix -the details of a story so as to confuse the hearer or the reader, and -thus may be made to appreciate to some degree the cleverness of the -workmanship which so distinguishes the work of Stevenson.</p> - -<p>More subtle in a way and yet not beyond the comprehension of the -school-boy is the part which character plays in shaping events and -moulding the story. The restlessness and the curiosity of Jim, from -the adventure of the apple-barrel to the saving of the ship, are -essentials in the tale; and equally the diabolical cleverness and -<em>unscrupulousness</em> of Silver shape the events of the story from -beginning to end.</p> - -<p>One more illustration may be taken from the novel which is so generally -included in high-school English, Scott's "Ivanhoe." Here it is -necessary to prepare for the story by the acquirement of a certain -amount of history. It is perhaps as well to take the first five<a name="FNanchor_159:1_9" id="FNanchor_159:1_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_159:1_9" class="fnanchor">[159:1]</a> -paragraphs of the opening chapter <!-- Page 160 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>as a preliminary lesson, and to -treat it as history pure and simple. In preparation for this lesson the -following vocabulary should be mastered:</p> - -<ul class="list"> - <li>Dragon of Wantley.</li> - <li>Wars of the Roses.</li> - <li>Vassalage.</li> - <li>Inferior gentry, or franklins.</li> - <li>Feudal.</li> - <li>The Conquest.</li> - <li>Duke William of Normandy.</li> - <li>Normans.</li> - <li>Anglo-Saxons.</li> - <li>Battle of Hastings.</li> - <li>Laws of the chase.</li> - <li>Chivalry.</li> - <li>Hinds.</li> - <li>Classical languages.</li> -</ul> - -<p class="noindent">A few other expressions, such as "petty kings," should be looked after -in the reading, lest the class get a false impression. The geography of -the river Don and of Doncaster may be passed over; but it is perhaps -better, especially in this historical preliminary, to require full -accuracy in this particular. To my thinking all this should be looked -up by the students, and never taken from notes appended to the text.</p> - -<p>The five paragraphs in which Scott gives the historic background -should be taken frankly as a piece of work out of which the class is -to make as clear a conception of the period of the tale as possible. -The pupils should use their common sense and their intelligence in -studying it, getting all out <!-- Page 161 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>of it that they can get. Then it should -be read aloud in the class, and carefully gone over. The aim should be -to have understood as clearly as possible what were the political and -the social conditions of the time when the events of the romance are -represented as taking place. Such other historic personages as enter -into the story without being mentioned in this preliminary sketch -should be brought into this exposition. Thus when King Richard and -Prince John and Robin Hood the semi-historic come upon the stage the -student will be prepared for the effect which the novelist intended, -and will have, moreover, that pleasure which a young reader always -feels in finding himself equal to an occasion.</p> - -<p>This preliminary work being accomplished, the rest of the book will -probably have to be largely assigned for home reading. The opening -chapters, however, and the most striking scenes must certainly be read -aloud in class. A sufficient portion for a lesson will be assigned each -day. A list of words for that portion will be given out with it to be -learned first. No teacher will suppose, I fancy, that in every case a -student will master the vocabulary before he reads the selection, but -the principle is sound and the words would at least be all taken up in -class before any reading is done. Students should be told to read the -selection aloud at home, and should come to the class acquainted with -the meaning and significance of each passage, or prepared to ask about -them.</p> - -<p><!-- Page 162 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> -At the beginning of the novel, when the reader is learning the -situation and the characters concerned, the assignments must be shorter -than in the latter part of the book, when these things are understood -and the current of the tale runs more swiftly. The remainder of the -first chapter, from the paragraph beginning "The sun was setting" is -quite enough for a first instalment. The following words make up the -preliminary vocabulary:</p> - - -<ul class="list"> - <li>Rites of druidical superstition.</li> - <li>Scrip.</li> - <li>Bandeau.</li> - <li>Harlequin.</li> - <li>Rational.</li> - <li>Quarter-staff.</li> - <li>Murrain.</li> - <li>Eumæus.</li> -</ul> - -<p>The method of treating the fiction itself has been sufficiently -indicated in the previous illustration from "Treasure Island," but may -be briefly touched upon. In this chapter of "Ivanhoe" are introduced -two characters. Both are described at some length, but in the case of -both important touches here and there add to the impression. Gurth is -said at the beginning to be stern and sad, and in the talk the reasons -come out.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>"The mother of mischief confound the Ranger of the forest, that -cuts the foreclaws off our dogs, and makes them unfit for their -trade."</p> - -<p>"Little is left us but the air we breathe, and that appears -to have been reserved with much hesitation, solely <!-- Page 163 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>for the -purpose of enabling us to endure the tasks they lay upon our -shoulders."</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">We have a proof of his impulsiveness in the dangerous freedom with -which he speaks to Wamba, and of how daring this is we are made aware -when the jester says to him:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>"I know thou thinkest me a fool, or thou wouldst not be so -rash in putting thy head into my mouth. One word to Reginald -Front-de-Bœuf . . . thou wouldst waver on one of these trees -as a terror to all evil speakers against dignities."</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Of the superstition of Gurth we have proof by his fear at the mention -of the fairies.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>"Wilt thou talk of such things while a terrible storm of -thunder and lightning is raging within a few miles of us?"</p> -</div> - -<p>Here is a fairly satisfactory portrait of Gurth, although other traits -of character are developed as the book goes forward. At the end of -the novel the attention of the class may be directed to the skilful -way in which at the very start Scott has struck in the words of Gurth -the keynote of the oppression of the Normans and the hatred for them -in the hearts of the Saxons; but a point of this sort should not be -anticipated. It will tell for more if it is left until it has had its -full effect and its place as a part of the whole romance may be clearly -shown.</p> - -<hr class="thoughtbreak" /> - -<p>One last word I cannot bring myself to omit. I have said elsewhere that -I disbelieve in the drawing <!-- Page 164 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>of morals, and at the risk of repetition I -wish to emphasize this in connection with fiction. The temptation here -is especially strong. It is so easy to draw a moral from any tale ever -written that two classes of teachers, those morally over-conscientious -and those ignorantly inept, are almost sure to insist that their -classes shall drag a moral lesson out of every story. The habit seems -to me thoroughly vicious. It is proper to make the character of the -persons in the novel as vivid as possible. The villain may be made -as hateful to God and to man as the testimony of the author will in -any way allow; but when that is done the children should be left to -draw their own morals. They should not even be allowed to know that -the teacher is aware that a moral may be drawn, and still less should -they be asked to discover one. If they draw a moral themselves or ask -questions about one, this is well, so long as they are sincere and -spontaneous. If they are left entirely to themselves in this they will -in a healthy natural fashion get from the story such moral instruction -as they are capable of profiting by, and they will not be put into that -antagonistic attitude which human nature inevitably takes when it is -preached to.</p> - - -<hr class="footnotes" /> -<p class="sectctrfn">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_159:1_9" id="Footnote_159:1_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_159:1_9"><span class="label">[159:1]</span></a> Five in the original. Some school editions, for what -reason I do not know, omit paragraph five, which begins: "This state of -things I have thought it necessary to premise."</p></div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /> -<p><!-- Page 165 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="Chapter_XIII" id="Chapter_XIII"></a>XIII<br /> - -<small>THE STUDY OF "MACBETH"</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>How I conceive the study of poetry may be managed in school-work I have -already indicated somewhat fully, but one concrete example is often -worth a dozen abstract statements. In the literary work of almost every -high school is now included the study of at least one Shakespearean -play, and as "Macbeth" is so generally selected as the one to be first -taken up, I have chosen that as an illustration.</p> - -<p>The study of any play, as I have said, should begin with a requirement -that the class master the vocabulary. The pupils should be made to -understand that the need of doing this is precisely the same as the -need of learning common speech for the sake of comprehending the talk -of every-day life, or of mastering the vocabulary of French before -going to the theatre to hear a play in that language. The scholars -should be told frankly that this will not be particularly easy work, -but that it is to be taken in the same spirit that one learned the -multiplication-table. No harm can come of letting the class expect this -part of the work to be full harder than it really is, and at least it -is well to have students understand that they are expected to labor to -fit themselves for the enjoyment of literature.</p> - -<p><!-- Page 166 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> -In this preparation the aim is to make it possible for the readers -to go on with the text without important interruptions. This purpose -determines what words and passages shall be taken up. Some difficulties -may safely and wisely be left for the second reading of the play, and -as it is well in these days not to expect too much of the industry -of youth, the teacher will do well to keep the list of words to be -mastered as short as may be. The whole play should be prepared for -before any of it is read, but I give only examples from the first act. -I should suggest—each teacher to vary the list at his pleasure—that -in the first act the following words should be dealt with. The numbers -of the lines are those of the Temple Edition.</p> - -<p><i>Alarum.</i> This occurs in the stage-directions of scene ii. The class -will see at once that it differs from "alarm," and can be made to -appreciate how from the strong rolling of the <i>r</i>—"alarr'm" came to -this form. That the latter form is now used in the sense of a warning -sound, and especially in the sense of a sound of trumpet or drum to -announce the coming of a military body or the escort of importance -affords a good example of the manner in which synonyms are established -in the language. A quotation or two may help to fix the word in mind:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings—"Richard III," -<i>i</i>, 1.</p> - -<p>And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love?—"Othello," -<i>ii</i>, 3.</p> - -<p><!-- Page 167 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> -The dread alarum should make the earth quake to its -centre.—Hawthorne, "Old Manse."</p> -</div> - -<p><i>Kerns and gallowglasses</i>, <i>ii</i>, 13. It may be enough to give simply -the fact that the first of these uncouth words means light-armed and -the second heavy-armed Irish troops. If the teacher likes, however, he -may add a brief mention of the passage from Barnabie Riche:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>The <i>Galloglas</i> succeedeth the Horseman, and hee is commonly -armed with a skull,<a name="FNanchor_167:1_10" id="FNanchor_167:1_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_167:1_10" class="fnanchor">[167:1]</a> a shirt of maile, and a <i>Galloglas</i> -axe; his service in the field is neither good against horsemen, -nor able to endure an encounter of pikes, yet the Irish do -make great account of them. The <i>Kerne</i> of Ireland are next in -request, the very drosse and scum of the countrey, a generation -of villaines not worthy to live: these be they that live by -robbing and spoiling the poor countreyman, that maketh him -many times to buy bread to give unto them, though he want -for himself and his poore children. These are they that are -ready to run out with every rebell, and these are the very -hags of hell, fit for nothing but for the gallows.—<cite>New Irish -Prognostication.</cite></p> -</div> - -<p><i>Thane</i>, <i>ii</i>, 45. This word may be made interesting by its close -connection with the Anglo-Saxon. <i>Thegan</i> was originally a servant, -then technically the king's servant, and so an Anglo-Saxon nobleman and -one of the king's more immediate warriors.</p> - -<p><i>Bellona</i>, <i>ii</i>, 54. The mythological allusion is of course easy to -handle.</p> - -<p><i>Composition</i>, <i>ii</i>, 59. This I would include in the list chiefly to -emphasize how often a little common <!-- Page 168 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>sense will solve what at first -sight seems a difficulty of language. "Craves composition" is so easily -connected with "composing difficulties" or any similar phrase that an -intelligent pupil can see the point if he is only alive to the force of -language.</p> - -<p><i>Aroint</i>, <i>iii</i>, 6. It will interest most scholars to learn that this -word—except for modern imitations—is found only in Shakespeare, -and in him but twice, both times in the phrase "Aroint thee, witch" -(the second instance, "Lear," <i>iii</i>, 4). They will be at least amused -by the possibility of its being derived from a dialect word given -in the Cheshire proverb quoted by an old author named Ray in 1693, -and probably in use in the time of Shakespeare: "'Rynt you, witch,' -quoth Bessie Locket to her mother;" and in the speculation whether -the dramatist himself made the word. The curious derivation of the -term from rauntree or rantry, the old form of rowan, or mountain-ash, -is sure to appeal to children who have seen the rowan ripening its -red berries. The mountain-ash, or the "quicken," as it is called in -Ireland, is one of the most famous trees in Irish tradition, and is -sacred to the "Gentle People," the fairies. It was of old regarded as a -sure defence against witches, and the theory of some scholars is that -the original form of the exclamation given by Shakespeare was "I've a -rauntree, witch," "I've a rowan-tree, witch." All that it is necessary -for the reader to know is that the word is evidently a warning to the -witch to depart; <!-- Page 169 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>but there can be no objection to introducing into -this preliminary study of the vocabulary matter which is likely to -arrest attention and to fix meanings in the mind.</p> - -<p><i>Rump-fed ronyon</i>, <i>iii</i>, 6. It is hardly worth while to do more with -this than to have it understood that "ronyon" is a term of contempt, -meaning scabby or something of the sort, and that "rump-fed," while it -may refer to the fact that kidneys, rumps, and scraps were perquisites -of the cook or given to beggars, probably indicates nothing more than a -plump, over-fed woman.</p> - -<p><i>Pent-house lid</i>, <i>iii</i>, 20. A pent-house is from the dictionary found -to be a sloping roof projecting from a wall over a door or window; and -from this to the comparison with the eyebrow is an easy step. That the -simile was common in the sixteenth century may be shown by numerous -quotations, as, for instance, the passage in Thomas Decker's "Gull's -Horne-book," 1609:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>The two eyes are the glasse windows, at which light disperses -itself into every roome, having goodlie pent-houses of hair to -overshadow them.</p> -</div> - -<p>In the second chapter of "Ivanhoe":</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>Had there not lurked under the pent-house of his eye that sly -epicurean twinkle.</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">And so on down to our own time, when Tennyson, in "Merlin and Vivian," -writes:</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <!-- Page 170 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> - <div class="line">He dragged his eyebrow bushes down, and made</div> - <div class="line">A snowy pent-house for his hollow eyes.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><i>Insane root</i>, <i>iii</i>, 84. In Plutarch's "Lives," which in the famous -translation of North was familiar to Shakespeare and from which he took -material for his plays, we are told that the soldiers of Anthony in the -Parthian war were forced by lack of provisions to "taste of roots that -were never eaten before; among which was one that killed them, and made -them out of their wits." Any intelligent student would be likely to -understand the force of this phrase from the context, but it is well to -speak of it beforehand to avoid distraction of the attention in reading.</p> - -<p><i>Coign</i>, <i>vi</i>, 7. "Jutty," from our common use of the verb "to jut," -carries its own meaning, and the use of the word "coign" in this -passage is given in the "Century Dictionary."</p> - -<p><i>Sewer</i>, <i>vii</i>, <i>stage-directions</i>. The derivation and the meaning are -also given in the "Century Dictionary," with illustrative quotations.</p> - -<p>So far for single words which would be likely to bother the ordinary -student in reading. The list might be extended by individual teachers -to fit individual cases, and such words included as choppy, <i>iii</i>, 44; -blasted, <i>iii</i>, 77; procreant, <i>vi</i>, 8; harbinger, <i>iv</i>, 45; flourish, -<i>iv</i>, <i>end</i>; martlet, <i>vi</i>, 4; God 'ield, <i>vi</i>, 13; trammel up, <i>vii</i>, -3; limbec, <i>vii</i>, 67. It is well, however, not to make the list longer -than is absolute necessary; and as the vocabulary of the whole play is -to be taken up, it is better to <!-- Page 171 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>trust to the general intelligence of -the class as far as possible.</p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>These doubtful or obsolete words having been mastered by the class, -and the lines in which they occur used as illustrations of their use, -the next matter is to take up obscure passages. These may be blind -from unusual use of familiar words or from some other cause. Where -the difficulty is a matter of diction it is hardly worth while to -make further division into groups, and in the first act the following -passages may be given to the students to study out for themselves if -possible, or to have explained by the teacher if necessary:</p> - -<div class="poem poemhead"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">Say to the king <em>the knowledge of the broil</em></div> - <div class="line">As thou did leave it.—<i>ii</i>, 6.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="poem poemhead"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">For brave Macbeth—well he deserves that name—</div> - <div class="line"><em>Disdaining fortune</em>, with his brandished steel</div> - <div class="line">Which smoked with <em>bloody execution</em>,</div> - <div class="line">Like <em>valour's minion</em> carved out his passage</div> - <div class="line">Till he faced the slave;</div> - <div class="line">Which ne'er shook hands, nor bid farewell to him,</div> - <div class="line">Till he <em>unseam'd him from the nave to chaps</em>,</div> - <div class="line">And fix'd his head upon our battlements.—<i>ii</i>, 16-23.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="poem poemhead"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds,</div> - <div class="line">Or <em>memorize another Golgotha</em>,</div> - <div class="line">I cannot tell.—<i>ii</i>, 39-41.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="poem poemhead"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">Till that <em>Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof,</em></div> - <div class="line"><em>Confronted him with self-comparisons,</em></div> - <div class="line"><em>Point against point rebellious</em>, arm 'gainst arm,</div> - <div class="line">Curbing his lavish spirit.—<i>ii</i>, 54-57.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="poem poemhead"> - <div class="stanza"> - <!-- Page 172 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> - <div class="line">He shall live a man <em>forbid</em>.—<i>iii</i>, 21.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="poem poemhead"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">The weird sisters, hand in hand,</div> - <div class="line"><em>Posters</em> of the sea and land.—<i>iii</i>, 32, 33.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="poem poemhead"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">Art not without ambition, but without</div> - <div class="line"><em>The illness should attend it</em>.—<i>v</i>, 20-21.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="poem poemhead"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">All that impedes thee from the <em>golden round</em></div> - <div class="line">That fate and <em>metaphysical aid</em> doth seem</div> - <div class="line">To have thee crowned withal.—<i>v</i>, 30-31.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="poem poemhead"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i12">To <em>beguile</em> the time</div> - <div class="line">Look like the time.—<i>vi</i>, 63.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="poem poemhead"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">—Those honors deep and broad wherewith</div> - <div class="line">Your majesty loads our house: for those of old</div> - <div class="line">And the late dignities heap'd up to them</div> - <div class="line">We rest your <em>hermits</em>.—<i>vi</i>, 16-20.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="poem poemhead"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i13">This Duncan</div> - <div class="line">Hath borne his <em>faculties</em> so meek.—<i>vii</i>, 16-17.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="poem poemhead"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">What cannot you and I perform upon</div> - <div class="line">The unguarded Duncan? what not put upon</div> - <div class="line">His <em>spongy</em> officers, who shall bear the guilt</div> - <div class="line">Of our great <em>quell</em>.—<i>vii</i>, 69-72.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>This list again may be made longer or shorter, with the same proviso -as before, that it be not unnecessarily distended. Phrases like -"craves composition" and "insane root," which I have put into the -first section, may be grouped here if it seems better. I have not felt -it needful to indicate the way in which the meaning of these obscure -passages is to be brought out, for the method would be essentially the -same as that taken to interest the class in the vocabulary of detached -words.</p> - - -<p><!-- Page 173 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p> -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>Passages possibly obscure from the thought may for the most part be -left for the later study of the play in detail. A few of them it is -well to take up for the simple purpose of training the student in -poetic language, and some need to be understood for the sake of the -first general effect. In the first act of "Macbeth" the passages which -it is actually necessary to examine are few, but the list may be made -long or short at the pleasure of the teacher. The following may serve -as examples:</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">The merciless Macdonwald—</div> - <div class="line">Worthy to be a rebel, for to that</div> - <div class="line">The multiplying villainies of nature</div> - <div class="line">Do swarm upon him.—<i>ii</i>, 9-12.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="poem poemhead"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">As whence the sun 'gins his reflection</div> - <div class="line">Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break,</div> - <div class="line">So from that spring whence comfort seem'd to come</div> - <div class="line">Discomfort swells.—<i>ii</i>, 25-28.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="poem poemhead"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">But thither in a sieve I'll sail,</div> - <div class="line">And like a rat without a tail,</div> - <div class="line">I'll do, I'll do and I'll do.—<i>iii</i>, 8-10.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>This passage is a good example of what may be passed over in the first -reading, yet which if understood adds greatly to the force of the -effect. If the scholar knows that according to the old superstition a -witch could take the form of an animal but could be identified by the -fact that the tail was wanting, the idea of the hag's flying through -the air on the wind to the tempest-tossed vessel bound for Aleppo, -and on it taking the form of a <!-- Page 174 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>tailless rat to gnaw, and gnaw, and -gnaw till the ship springs a leak, is sure to appeal to the youthful -imagination.</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,</div> - <div class="line">Shakes so my single state of man that function</div> - <div class="line">Is smothered in surmise, and nothing is</div> - <div class="line">But what is not.—<i>iii</i>, 139-142.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">This is one of those passages which is sure to puzzle the ordinary -school-boy, although a little help will enable him to understand it, -and to see how natural under the circumstances is the state of mind -which it paints. The murder is as yet only imagined (fantastical), -and yet the thought of it so shakes Macbeth's individual (single) -consciousness (state of man) that the ordinary functions of the mind -are lost in confused surmises of what may come as the consequences of -the deed; until to his excited fancy nothing seems real (is) but what -the dreadful surmise paints, although that does not yet exist.</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line i4">Your servants ever</div> - <div class="line">Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs, in compt</div> - <div class="line">To make their audit to your highness' pleasure,</div> - <div class="line">Still to return your own.—<i>vi</i>, 25-28.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="poem poemhead"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line i4">His two chamberlains</div> - <div class="line">Will I with wine and wassail so convince,</div> - <div class="line">That memory, the warder of the brain,</div> - <div class="line">Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason</div> - <div class="line">A limbec only.—<i>vii</i>, 63-67.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The whole of Macbeth's soliloquy at the beginning of scene <i>vii</i> is a -case in point. It may be taken up here, but to my thinking is better -treated <!-- Page 175 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>after the class is familiar with the circumstances under which -it is spoken.</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>The taking up of especially striking passages beforehand may be omitted -altogether, although what I consider the possible advantages I have -already indicated.<a name="FNanchor_175:1_11" id="FNanchor_175:1_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_175:1_11" class="fnanchor">[175:1]</a> Perhaps the better plan is to do this after -the first reading of the play, and before the second reading prepares -the way for detailed study. The sort of passage I have in mind is -indicated by the following examples:</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">If you can look into the seeds of time,</div> - <div class="line">And say which grain will grow and which will not.—<i>iii</i>, 58-59.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">The attention of the pupils may be called to the especial force and -fitness of the image. The impossibility of telling from the appearance -of a seed whether it will grow or what will spring from it makes very -striking this comparison of events to them, so unable are we to say -which of these "seeds of time" will produce important results and which -will show no more growth than a seed unsprouting.</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line"><i>Dun.</i> This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air</div> - <div class="line i2h">Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself</div> - <div class="line i2h">Unto our gentle senses.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line"><i>Ban.</i> <span class="s9h">This guest of summer,</span></div> - <div class="line i2h">The temple-haunting martlet, does approve</div> - <div class="line i2h">By his loved mansionry that the heaven's breath</div> - <div class="line i2h">Smells wooingly here.—<i>vi</i>, 1-7.</div> -</div></div> - -<p class="noindent"><!-- Page 176 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>This is not only charming as poetry, but it is excellent as a help to -train the class to appreciative reading by attention to significant -details. "Nimbly,"—with a light, quick motion,—the air "recommends -itself,"—comes upon us in a way which makes us appreciate its -goodness,—unto our "gentle,"—delicate, capable of perceiving subtle -qualities,—senses. In the reply of Banquo the use of "guest," one -favored and invited, of "temple-haunting," conveying the idea of one -frequenting places consecrated and revered, of "loved mansionry," -dwellings which the eye loves to recognize, all help to strengthen the -impression, and to give the feeling to the mind which we might have -from watching the flight of the slim, glossy swallows flitting about -their nests.</p> - -<p>It is not necessary to multiply examples, since each teacher will -have his personal preferences for striking passages; and since many -will probably prefer to leave this whole matter to be taken up in the -reading.</p> - - -<h3>V</h3> - -<p>The first reading of a play, whether it come before or after the -mastering of the vocabulary, should be unbroken except by the pauses -necessary between consecutive recitations, and must above everything be -clear and intelligible. In all but the most exceptional circumstances -it should be done by the teacher, the class following the text in -books of their own. No teacher who cannot read well has <!-- Page 177 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>any business -to attempt to teach literature at all, for reading aloud is the most -effective of all means to be used in the study. This does not mean that -the reading should be over-dramatic, and still less that it should be -what is popularly known as "elocutionary;" but it does mean that it -shall be agreeable, intelligent, and sympathetic. The teacher must -both understand and feel the work, and must be trained to convey both -comprehension and emotion through the voice. The pupils will from a -first reading get chiefly the plot, but they may also be unconsciously -prepared for the more important knowledge of character which is -naturally the next step in the process of studying the drama.</p> - -<p>As preparation for the first reading of "Macbeth" little is needed in -the way of general explanation. The discussion of the supernatural -element, of the responsibility of the characters, and of the central -thought of the play, may safely be left for later study. Young people -will respond to the direct story, and it is not unwise to let the -plot produce its full effect as simple narrative. It is well to state -beforehand how it comes that the kingship does not necessarily go by -immediate descent, and so to make it evident how Macbeth secured the -throne; it may be well also to comment briefly on the state of society -in which crime was more possible than now; but beyond this the play may -be left to tell its own tale.</p> - -<p>In this first reading the teacher will do well to indicate such points -of stage-setting as are not <!-- Page 178 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>evident, and such stage "business" as is -necessary to the understanding of the scene. It is as well, however, -not to give too much stress to this. To follow the play of emotions -is with children instinctive, and this they will do without dwelling -on the details of the scene too closely in a material sense. At least -a very little aid will be sufficient at this stage. In a subsequent -reading these matters may be more fully brought out, although I am -convinced that even then it is easy to overdo the insisting upon aids -to visualization.</p> - -<p>What may be done and should not be omitted is the interspersion in -passing of comments so brief that they do not interrupt, yet which -throw light upon meanings which might otherwise be likely to pass -unnoticed. Nothing should be touched upon in this way which is so -complicated as to require more than a word or two to make it plain. -What I mean is illustrated by these examples:</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">I come Graymalkin.</div> - <div class="line">Paddock calls.—<i>i</i>, 9, 10.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">The voice in reading conveys the idea that the witches speak to -familiar spirits in the air, but it is well to state that fact -explicitly.</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">What, can the devil speak true?—<i>iii</i>, 107.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Banquo thinks instantly of the word of the witches,</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">Glamis, and thane of Cawdor, etc.—<i>iii</i>, 111-119.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">In these lines and in 126-147, it is of so much importance that the -distinction between the asides <!-- Page 179 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>and the direct speech be appreciated -that it may be well to call attention to the changes.</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">Cousins, a word, I pray you.—<i>iii</i>, 126.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Banquo draws the others aside, probably to tell them of the prediction -by the witches of the news they have brought, and this gives Macbeth a -moment by himself to think of the strangeness of it.</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">Think upon what hath chanced.—<i>iii</i>, 153.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">This is said, of course, to Banquo.</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">We will establish our estate upon</div> - <div class="line">Our eldest son, Malcolm.—<i>iv</i>, 37.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Here the conditions of succession already spoken of may be alluded -to, and the fact noted that if Macbeth had entertained any hopes of -succeeding Duncan legitimately, these were now dispelled.</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">And when goes hence?—<i>v</i>, 60.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">The sinister suggestion of this may well be emphasized by calling -attention to it.</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">By your leave, hostess.—<i>vi</i>, 31.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">With these words Duncan, who has taken the hand of Lady Macbeth, turns -to lead her in.</p> - - -<h3>VI</h3> - -<p>Once the play has been read as a whole the way has been prepared for -more careful attention to details. For each recitation the parts should -be assigned beforehand for oral reading, three or four pupils being -assigned to each part so that in a long scene opportunity is given for -bringing a number <!-- Page 180 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>of the students to their feet.<a name="FNanchor_180:1_12" id="FNanchor_180:1_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_180:1_12" class="fnanchor">[180:1]</a> It is well -to prepare for this second reading by selecting the central motive of -the play, and having the class discuss it. In the case of "Macbeth" it -is easy to select ambition as the main thread. In some plays a single -passion or emotion is not so easily detached, but it is generally -needful to remember that if children are to be impressed and are to -see things clearly, they must be dealt with simply; so that even at -the expense of slighting for the time being some of the strands it is -well to keep to the principle of naming one and holding to it with -straightforwardness until the work is tolerably familiar.</p> - -<p>The children should be made to say—not to write, for contagion of -ideas is of the greatest importance here—what they understand by -ambition, how far they have noticed it in others, and perhaps how far -felt it themselves. A wise teacher should have little difficulty in -making such a talk personal enough to enforce the idea without letting -it become too intimate. It can be brought out that the test of ambition -is the extent of the sacrifices one is willing to make to gratify -it. The ambition already spoken of to excel in class, to be at the -head of the school baseball nine or football team, to be popular with -friends, and so on for the common ambitions of life may seem trifling, -but it belongs to the language of the child's life. Here and there -the teacher finds pupils who might seize the <!-- Page 181 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>conception of ambition -without starting so near the rudiments, but most need it; I am unable -to see how any can be hurt by it. It is much more difficult to get a -conception vividly into the minds of twenty pupils together than it is -to impress the same thing upon a hundred separately, and I should never -feel that I could afford to neglect the humblest means which might be -serviceable. The talk, moreover, does not stop here. It is to be led on -to what the boys and girls would wish to be in the world; and from this -to historic instances of what men have done to gratify their ambitions. -The assassination of the late King of Servia is still so recent as -to seem much more real than murders farther back in history, and it -lends itself well to the effort to make vital the tragedy that is -being studied. I am not for an instant urging that literature shall be -treated in too realistic a manner, as I hope to show before I conclude; -but I do not feel that there is any fear of making it too real to the -boys and girls with whom one must deal to-day in our schools.</p> - -<p>It is perhaps well, too, that some comment should be made at this stage -on the supernatural element. A class is likely to have had geometry by -the time it has come to the study of Shakespeare, and most children can -with very little difficulty be made to understand that in "Macbeth" -and "The Ancient Mariner" the existence of the supernatural is the -hypothesis upon which the work proceeds. When this is understood it is -not amiss to develop the <!-- Page 182 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>idea that Shakespeare perhaps introduced the -witches as a way of showing how evil thoughts and desires spring up in -the heart. The class will easily see that the ideas of ambition, of -the possibility of gaining the crown, which little by little grew in -the heart of Macbeth can be better shown to an audience by putting the -words into the mouths of the witches than by means of soliloquies. This -giving of reasons why the dramatist does one thing or another should -not be pressed too far and should be touched upon with caution. It is -often better to let a detail go unremarked than to run the risk of -confusing the mind of the pupil. The witches, however, are almost sure -to be remarked upon, and they must be considered frankly.</p> - -<p>In this second reading such obscure passages as have been glided over -before are to be taken into consideration. If the pupils have, as -they should have, texts unencumbered with notes, they may be given a -scene or two at a time, and told to use their wits in elucidating the -difficulties. Often they show surprising intelligence in this line, -and the bestowal of praise where it is deserved is one of the most -effective as well as one of the pleasantest parts of the whole process. -What they cannot elucidate alone, they may be if possible helped to -work out in class, or, if this fails, may be told outright. If they -have tried to arrive at the true meaning, they are in a condition when -an explanation will have its best and fullest effect.</p> - -<p>Passages in the first act of "Macbeth" which <!-- Page 183 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>I have thus far passed -over deliberately, to the end that the pupil be not bothered over too -many difficulties at once, are such as these:</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">Fair is foul, and foul is fair,—<i>i</i>, 11.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky</div> - <div class="line">And fan our people cold.—<i>ii</i>, 49, 50.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">Nor would we deign him burial of his men</div> - <div class="line">Till he disbursed, at Saint Colme's inch.—<i>ii</i>, 59, 60.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">Ten thousand dollars.—<i>ii</i>, 62.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">If, as is likely to be the case, the greater part or all of the class -have passed the word "dollars" without notice, that fact serves to -illustrate the need of care in reading. That they should pass it, -moreover, illustrates also how the anachronism might pass unnoticed -in Shakespeare's time, when historical accuracy was the last thing -about which a playwright bothered his head. The teacher may well here -refer back to the idea of considering literature as the algebra of the -emotions, and remind the class that as the poet was not endeavoring -to write history or to tell what happened in a concrete instance, but -only to represent the abstract principle of such a situation as that in -which Macbeth and his wife were involved, a departure from historical -accuracy is of no importance so long as it does not disturb the effect -on the mind of the audience or reader.</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">No more that thane of Cawdor shall receive</div> - <div class="line">Our bosom interest.—<i>ii</i>, 63, 64.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">I'll give thee a wind.—<i>iii</i>, 11.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">The supposed power of the witches to control the <!-- Page 184 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>winds and the -superstitions of the sailors about buying favorable weather from them -may be taken up in the first reading; but it seems better to leave it -for the time when the effect of the play as a whole has been secured, -and the interruption will be less objectionable.</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">His wonders and his praises do contend</div> - <div class="line">Which should be thine or his: silenced with that.—<i>iii</i>, 63.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">That, trusted home.—<i>iii</i>, 120.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">Poor and single business.—<i>vi</i>, 16.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">Like the poor cat i' the adage.—<i>vii</i>, 45.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>It is not necessary to continue this list. Its length is decided by the -one fixed principle to which is no exception: it is too long the moment -the teacher fails to hold the interest of the class in the work which -is being done. No amount of information acquired or skill in passing -examinations can compensate for the harm done by associating the plays -of Shakespeare in the minds of the student with the idea of dulness or -boredom.</p> - -<p>Textual explanation, however, is of small importance as compared to an -intelligent grasp of the office and effect of each incident and each -scene in the development of the story and of the characters of the -actors in the tragedy. At the end of each scene, or for that matter -at any point which seems well to the instructor, the students should -in this second reading be called upon to comment orally on what has -been done in the play and what has been shown. I have much more faith -in the <!-- Page 185 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>genuineness of what a boy says on his feet in the class room -than in what he may write at home. A teacher with the gentlest hint may -at once stop humbug and conventionality when it is spoken, but when -stock phrases, conventional opinions, views imperfectly remembered or -consciously borrowed from somebody's notes have been neatly copied out -in a theme, no amount of red ink corrects the evil that has been done. -The important thing is to get an appreciation, no matter how limited or -imperfect it may be, which is yet genuine and intelligent.</p> - -<p>With the matter of disputed readings, I may say in parenthesis, the -teacher in the secondary school has no more to do than to answer doubts -which may arise in the minds of the pupils. Personally I should offer -to the consideration of the class the conjectural reading of the line</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself.—<i>vii</i>, 27.</div> - <div class="line">Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps its selle (saddle);</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">because it seems to me so plausible and because it is likely to commend -itself. For the most part, however, I should let sleeping dogs lie, and -if nobody noticed the possible confusion of the text, I would not risk -confusion of mind by calling attention to it.</p> - -<p>The personal opinions of the class upon the actions and the acts of -the characters are not difficult to get at in this way, and often will -be the more fully shaped and more clearly thought out if the <!-- Page 186 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>pupil is -constrained to defend an unpopular view. I am not introducing anything -new, for this sort of discussion is carried on by every intelligent -teacher; it is mentioned here only for the sake of completeness in the -process of treating a play in the class-room.</p> - - -<h3>VII</h3> - -<p>It may seem superfluous to some teachers to end the study as it began, -by a complete, uninterrupted reading of the whole. It is possible that -sometimes it would weary a class already weary of going over the same -ground; but if so the class has been on the wrong tack throughout. I -make the suggestion, however, in confidence that the effect will be -good, and that the students will enjoy this review. Whether the reading -is done by teacher or pupils depends somewhat upon circumstances; but -it should certainly be by the pupils if possible.</p> - - -<h3>VIII</h3> - -<p>I have carefully and intentionally omitted all mention of the study of -the sources of the plot, the probable date of the play, and things of -that sort which interest thorough Shakespearean scholars, and which -are the chosen subjects of pedantic formalists. Metrical effects and -subtilties are beyond any pupils I have ever encountered in secondary -schools. I do not believe that students in the secondary schools should -be troubled with any study of this sort. The teacher should of course -be <!-- Page 187 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>prepared briefly to answer any questions of this nature which are -put, and to show the pupils where in books of reference information -may be found. The great principle is, however, to include in the study -nothing which does not enhance the impression of the play as a work of -imaginative literature, and to omit everything which can possibly be -spared without endangering this general effect.</p> - -<p>The danger of overshadowing literary study with irrelevant information -is great and constant. The amount of special knowledge which a child -must acquire to appreciate a play of Shakespeare's is unhappily large -in any case; and the constant aim of the teacher should be to reduce -this to a minimum. It is far better that a pupil go through the work -with imaginative delight and fail to get the exact meaning of half -the obscure passages than that he be bored and wearied by an exact -explanation of all of them at the expense of the inspiration of the -work as a whole. My painful doubts of the wisdom of our present scheme -of insisting upon the study of literature in the common schools arises -largely from the unhappy necessity of having so much explained and -the too common lack of courage to do a sufficient amount of judicious -ignoring of difficulties.</p> - - -<h3>IX</h3> - -<p>I cannot shirk entirely, as I should be glad to do, the question of -written work on the play we <!-- Page 188 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>have been considering.<a name="FNanchor_188:1_13" id="FNanchor_188:1_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_188:1_13" class="fnanchor">[188:1]</a> It is a -thousand pities that children must be required to write anything about -"Macbeth" when they have read it; but it is evident that under existing -conditions they will be required to produce something on paper. In -regard to this I must repeat that they should never be asked to write -as exercises in composition. Everything that a child writes is, in -one sense, a rhetorical exercise, but the teacher should impress it -upon the class that here the chief aim is to get an expression of the -child's thought. The more completely the children can be made to feel -that this is not a "composition," but a statement of impressions, of -personal tastes, and of opinions, the better.</p> - -<p>What subjects are suited for written work is a matter which must be -decided by each teacher according to the dispositions, the knowledge, -the aptitude shown by the scholars in a particular class. It will -inevitably be influenced largely by examination-papers; and in the -face of the lists of subjects provided by these it is idle to offer -any particular suggestions. In general the test of a subject, so far -as real benefit is concerned, is whether it is one upon which the -student may fairly be expected to be able to feel and to reason in -terms of his own experience. A subject is suited to his needs so long, -and so long only, as he is able to consider it as a matter which might -concern him personally. He may think crudely and he <!-- Page 189 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>must of course -think inadequately; but he should at least think sincerely and without -regard to what somebody else has thought before him. He should be -original in the sense that he is putting down his own impressions, is -writing thoughts which have not been gathered from books, but have been -come at by considering the play in the light of whatever knowledge he -personally has of life and human nature.</p> - -<p>Much may depend, it is worth remarking, upon the way a subject for -theme-work is given out. Phrases count greatly in all human affairs, -but especially in the development of children. Adults are supposed -to understand words so readily as to be free from the danger of -receiving wrong impressions from phraseology which is unfamiliar; but -whether this be true or not, certain it is that the young are often -bewildered by words and queerly affected by turns of language. The same -theme-subject may be hopelessly incomprehensible or at least unhappily -remote when stated in one way, while in another wording it is entirely -possible. The first essential is to make clear beyond all possibility -of doubt what is required, and this is to be accomplished only by using -language which the student understands. The teacher must here as in -all instruction keep constantly in mind that language that is clear -and familiar to him may be nothing less than cryptic to the class. I -remember a lad in a country school who was hopelessly bewildered when -confronted with the subject given <!-- Page 190 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>out by his teacher: "What Character -in this Book Appeals to You Most, and on what Grounds?" yet who wrote -easily enough a very respectable theme when I said: "She only wants -you to pick out the person in the book you like best, and tell why you -like him." "Oh, is that all?" he said at first incredulously. "But that -isn't saying anything about grounds." The incident, absurd as it is, is -really typical.</p> - -<p>I have usually found that the word "compare" will reduce most students -to mere memories, as they strive almost mechanically to reproduce -things set down in the notes of text-books. Nothing is more common than -subjects like "Compare the Characters of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth," -"Compare 'L'Allegro' and 'Il Penseroso,'" and so on. The result is -generally a statement of the criticisms of the characters or works -mentioned, a statement which is a poor rehash of notes, but has of real -comparison no trace. The comparison calls for analytical powers far -beyond anything pupils are likely to have developed; and when a boy -asked me not so very long ago what a teacher expected of him when he -had been required to compare Sir Roger de Coverley and Will Honeycomb -I was forced to reply that I was utterly unable even to conjecture. I -regard the frequent appearance of theme-subjects of this sort in the -secondary schools with mingled envy and wonder: envy for the teachers -who apparently possess the power to elicit satisfactory work on these -lines, and wonder that the power <!-- Page 191 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>to do this work seems so completely -to disappear when the pupil leaves the secondary schools.</p> - -<p>To comment on the subjects which have actually stood upon entrance -examinations in the last half-dozen years would in the first place -be invidious, in the second would expose me to an unpleasant danger -of seeming to challenge attention to papers for which I have been -personally responsible, and in the third place would do no possible -good. A teacher with common sense can make the application of the -general principles I have stated if he choose; and he will at least -minimize the unfortunate necessity of making the written work a -preparation for examinations.</p> - - -<h3>X</h3> - -<p>Memorizing is perhaps best done in connection with the last reading -of the play, but that is a mere detail. Students should be encouraged -to commit to memory the finest passages, and should be given an -opportunity of repeating them in the class with as much intelligent -effectiveness as possible. They should not, of course, be encouraged -or allowed to rant or to "spout" Shakespeare; but the teacher should -insist that at least lines be recited so that the meaning is brought -out clearly, and he should encourage the speaker to give each passage -as if it were being spoken as the expression of a distinct personal -thought.</p> - -<p class="wideellipsis">. . . . . . . . .</p> - -<p><!-- Page 192 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> -As I said at the beginning of this chapter, I have not endeavored to -provide a model, but merely for the sake of suggestiveness to offer an -illustration. This is at least one way in which the study of a play -may be taken up in the secondary school. Whether it is the best way -for a given case is another matter; and I must at the risk of tiresome -iteration add that here as everywhere the highest function of the -teacher is to discover what is the best possible method not for the -world in general, but for the particular class to be dealt with at the -moment.</p> - - -<hr class="footnotes" /> -<p class="sectctrfn">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_167:1_10" id="Footnote_167:1_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_167:1_10"><span class="label">[167:1]</span></a> A metal covering for the head: a helmet.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_175:1_11" id="Footnote_175:1_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_175:1_11"><span class="label">[175:1]</span></a> Page <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_180:1_12" id="Footnote_180:1_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_180:1_12"><span class="label">[180:1]</span></a> Personally I would never have a pupil recite except on -his feet.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_188:1_13" id="Footnote_188:1_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_188:1_13"><span class="label">[188:1]</span></a> See <a href="#Chapter_XI">chapter xi</a>.</p></div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /> -<p><!-- Page 193 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="Chapter_XIV" id="Chapter_XIV"></a>XIV<br /> - -<small>CRITICISM</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>What should be used in the way of tests of the knowledge of pupils is a -puzzling question for any teacher. Like any other pedagogically natural -and necessary inquiry, it can be answered only with a repetition of the -caution that no set of hard and fast rules will apply to all schools or -to all classes. Students themselves, however, would often be perplexed -if they were not given definite tasks to perform, definite questions to -answer, definite facts to memorize. In acquiring the vocabulary needed -for the reading of a play both teacher and pupil feel with satisfaction -that legitimate because tangible work is being done; and for either -it is hard to appreciate the fact that the essential thing in the -study of literature is too intangible to be tested or measured by -specific standards. In what I have called the inspirational treatment -of literature both are likely to feel as if a vacation is being taken -from real work, since the impression is general that the only method of -keeping within the limits of useful educational progress is dependent -upon the accomplishing of concrete tasks.</p> - -<p>The need of fitting students for examinations is generally allowed in -practice to answer the question <!-- Page 194 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span>what shall be done. I have already -said that I have personally little faith in the ultimate value of -much of the drill thus imposed, and it is hardly to be supposed that -any intelligent teacher could be satisfied to let matters rest here. -Certainly a pupil who graduates from the high school should have some -power of criticising intelligently any book which comes into his hands, -and of forming estimates of diction, general form, and to a less extent -even of style. His criticism is necessarily incomplete; but it should -be genuine and sound as far as it goes. Such a result is not dependent -upon the power of passing examinations, but is chiefly secured by -precisely that training in appreciation which is least formal and may -easily appear farthest from practice in criticism.</p> - -<p>Some actual and definite criticism, however, is legitimately a part of -the school-work; and concerning this certain things present themselves -to my mind as obvious. In the first place criticism is of no value, but -rather is harmful, if it fails to be genuine. From this follows the -deduction that no criticism can profitably be required until the child -is old enough to form an opinion, and that at no stage should comments -be asked which are beyond the child's intellectual development. In the -early stages criticism is necessarily genuine in proportion as it is -personal; and it must have become entirely easy and natural before it -can safely be made at all theoretic.</p> - -<p>In the early stages of the use of literature in <!-- Page 195 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>education, as has -been said already, the aim is to help the child to enjoy, and to -understand so that enjoyment may be inevitable. This should normally be -done in the home, but since in a large number of cases in the common -schools the effects of home training in literature are so lamentably -wanting, the teacher must in most cases undertake to begin at the very -beginning. So far as criticism goes, the early stages are of course -merely the rudimentary likings or dislikings, and the encouragement -of expression of such tastes. Following this comes naturally the -putting into word of reasons for preferences. This must be done with -simplicity, in the homeliest and most unconventional manner, and above -all with no hint to the child that he is doing anything so large as to -"criticise." It is precisely at this stage that children are most in -danger of contracting the habit of repeating parrot-like the opinions -of their elders. All of us have to begin life by receiving the views of -adults, and we are all—except in the rare instances of extraordinary -geniuses, who need not be much considered here—eager to conceal lack -of knowledge by glib repetitions of the ideas of others. To force young -pupils to give opinions when they have none of their own to give is to -repeat the mistake which Wordsworth notes in his "Lesson for Fathers." -The child in the poem unthinkingly declared that he preferred his new -home to the old. His father insists upon a reason, and the poor little -fellow, having none, is forced into the lie:</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <!-- Page 196 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> - <div class="line">"At Kilve there is no weathercock,</div> - <div class="line indentq">And that's the reason why."</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>In the lower grades the thing which may well and wisely be done is to -accustom the children to literature and to literary language. If pupils -come to the upper grades and show that this has not been done, the -teacher still has it to do, just as he must teach them the alphabet or -the multiplication-table if they arrive without the knowledge of these -essentials to advanced work. This is the only safe foundation upon -which work may rest, and although to acquire it consumes the time which -should be put on more elaborate study, that study cannot be soundly -done until the rudimentary preparation is well mastered. Criticism must -be postponed until the pupil is prepared for it.</p> - -<p>Criticism, whenever it come, must begin simply, and it must be -connected with the actual life and experience of the child. We are -constantly endangering success in teaching by being unwilling to stop -at the limits of the possible. Boys and girls will be frank about what -they read if they are once really convinced that frankness is what is -expected and desired. They are constantly, if not always consciously, -on the watch for what the teacher wishes them to say. Whatever -encourages them to think for themselves and to state that thought -unaffectedly and freely is what is educationally valuable, and this -only.</p> - -<p>Opinions concerning characters in tales perhaps do as well as anything -for the beginning of criticism <!-- Page 197 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>in classes. A teacher may say to a -pupil: "Suppose you had known Silas Marner, what would you have thought -of him?" The child is easily led to perceive the difference between -seeing or knowing such a man in real life, with its limited chances -of any knowledge of character, of the past history of the weaver, of -his secret thoughts, or of his feelings, and knowing him from the book -which gives all these details so fully. The question then becomes: -"Suppose you had in some way found out about him all that the novel -tells, what would you have felt?" The teacher will easily detect and -should with the gentlest firmness and the firmest gentleness suppress -any conventional answers. The young girl who with glib conventionality -declares that Silas was a noble character whom she pities because of -the way in which he was misunderstood may be questioned whether if -she had lived in Raveloe she would have seen more than the homely, -unsocial stranger, and whether, even had she known all that was -concealed under his homely life, she could have held out against his -general unpopularity. She is forced to think when she is asked whether -among those who live around her may not be men and women whose lives -are as pathetic and as misjudged as was that of the weaver. Children -have ideas about the personages in the stories they hear or read, and -it is only necessary to encourage, in each pupil according to his -temperament, first the formulating of these clearly and then the frank -stating of them.</p> - -<p><!-- Page 198 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> -In all this sort of criticism one thing which should be sedulously -avoided is any appearance of drawing a moral. Deliberately to draw a -moral is almost inevitably to defeat any lesson which the tale might -enforce if it is left to make its own effect. The point to be aimed at -here is not to turn the story into a sermon, but to make it as close -to the individual life of the child as is possible. The difference is -in essence that between being told a thing and experiencing it. Once -this relation is established, the child feels an emotional share in the -matter such as can be created by no amount of sermonizing. It may be -doubted if any genuine child ever drew a moral spontaneously, and in -all this work spontaneity is the beginning of wisdom.</p> - -<p>After the pupil has come to have some notion, more or less clear -according to his own mental development, of what the personages in a -story or a play are like, he easily goes on to determine the relation -of one event to another, the interrelation between the separate parts -of the work. He should be able to tell in a general way at least what -influence one character has upon another, and of the responsibility of -each in the events of the narrative.</p> - -<p>These opinions should as much as possible be put into speech before -being written. The subject should be talked out, however, in a manner -so sincere and straightforward as to make conventionality impossible. -Students must be held rigorously to honest and simple expression of -real beliefs and feelings. In every class, and perhaps especially -<!-- Page 199 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>among girls, are likely to be some who will surely repeat conventional -phrases. Children pick up set phrases with surprising ease, and will -offer them whenever they have reason to believe such counterfeit will -be received instead of real coin. These shams are easily recognized, -and they should be mercilessly dealt with, almost anything except -sarcasm, that weapon which is forbidden to the teacher, being -legitimate against such cant. The student who repeats a set phrase -is usually effectually disposed of by a request to explain, to make -clear, and to prove; so that the habit of meaningless repetition cannot -grow unless the teacher is insensitive to it. The genuine ideas of the -pupils may be developed and put into word in the class, and afterwards -the writing out will involve getting them into order and logical -sequence.</p> - -<p>It may be objected that by this process each scholar will borrow ideas -from what he hears said in the class. This is in reality no serious -drawback to the method. If the individuals are trained to think for -themselves, each will judge the views which are presented in class, and -will make them his own by shaping and modifying them. In any case the -danger of a student's getting too many ideas is not large, and those -he gets from his peers, his classmates, are much more likely to appeal -to him and to remain in his mind than any which he culls from books. -The notions will sometimes be crude, but they will be so corrected and -discussed in recitation that they cannot be essentially false.</p> - -<p><!-- Page 200 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> -Any criticism which is received from pupils, whether spoken or written, -must first of all be intelligent. Sound common sense is the only safe -basis for any comment, and the higher the grade of a work of literature -imaginatively the more easy is it to treat it in a common-sense spirit. -Pupils should be made to feel not only that they have a right to any -opinion of their own on what they read, but that they are expected -to have one; and that this opinion may be of any nature whatever, -so long as they can justify it by sound reasons. Still farther than -this, they should be allowed freely to cherish tastes for which they -cannot give formal justification—provided they can show a reasonable -appreciation of the real qualities of the work they like or dislike. -In the higher regions of imaginative work the power of analysis of the -most able critic may fail; and it is manifestly idle to expect from -school-children exhaustive criticism of high things which yet they may -feel deeply.</p> - -<p>Since it is of so much importance that all comment and criticism shall -be sincere, care must be taken to keep work within limits which make -sincerity possible. Students must not be required to perform tasks -which are in the nature of things impossible. To push beyond dealing -with comparatively simple matters in a frank and direct manner, is -inevitably to encourage the use of conventional phrases and to replace -sincerity with cant.</p> - -<p>A nice question connects itself with the determination of how much it -is proper and wise to <!-- Page 201 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>require of children: it is how much farther it -is well to call upon them to criticise literature than we should ask -them to comment on life. We need to know what we are doing, and though -an examination of the character and motives of a criminal in a book -is not the same thing as would be this sort of criticism applied to a -flesh and blood neighbor, the two processes are the same in essence. -The better the teacher succeeds in arousing the imagination of the -pupil, moreover, the more closely the two approach. We should be sure -that we are doing well in requiring of the young, who would not and -should not be encouraged to dwell on actual crime and suffering, that -they produce original opinions upon these things as represented in -fiction.</p> - -<p>It is of course to be allowed that no teaching can make fictions vital -and real in exactly the same way as is that which is known actually to -have happened. An imaginative child vitalizes the story which touches -him, but does not bring it home to himself as he would occurrences -within the circle of his own experience. It may be urged that by -encouraging him to analyze sin in the comparatively remote world of -fancy we give him a chance to perceive its moral hatefulness without -that distrust of his fellows which might come if he were forced to -learn the lesson from the harsher happenings of life; and that in books -the knowledge of character and circumstance is so much fuller than it -is likely to be in experience that he is able <!-- Page 202 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>to see more clearly. -The fact remains, however, that we should hardly expect or desire a -lucid and reasonable estimate of the late King and Queen of Servia -from the school-children who are being made to write laborious reams -on the motives and the character of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth; that we -should be shocked at finding boys and girls considering in real life -occurrences like the seduction of Olivia Primrose, or suspicions like -those Gareth entertained of Lynette. We certainly cannot afford to -be prurient, or to confine the young to goody-goody books. They may -generally be safely trusted, it seems to me, to read any tale or poem -of first-class merit, although its subject were as painful as that of -"Œdipus." They will receive it as they receive facts of life told -by a wholesome-minded person, often with very little real perception -of the darkest and most sinister side. It will be as it was with young -Copperfield when he read Fielding's masterpiece and took delight in -the hero, "a child's Tom Jones, a harmless creature." When it comes to -the discussion of motives, of character, of black events in fiction, -the case is different. The child is forced to take a new attitude; to -accumulate the opinions of his elders, to view life from their more -sophisticated point of view; and inevitably to receive a fresh, and not -always a desirable insight into evil. I am not inclined to dogmatize on -this point, and touch upon it chiefly for the sake of suggesting that -teachers may do well to keep it a little in mind. Each case, it seems -to me, must be <!-- Page 203 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>decided upon its own merit, and I at least have no -arbitrary rules to lay down. Of one thing, however, I am sure, and that -is that whatever is taken up at all should be treated with absolute and -fearless frankness.</p> - -<p>All criticism of diction, style, or whatever belongs to literary -workmanship necessarily comes late. In the secondary schools I believe -very little can profitably be done in this line at all. Of this I -shall speak later in connection with the study of workmanship, but -here I may say that I suppose most teachers to recognize the obvious -absurdity of such questions about metres and metrical effects as are -given on page <a href="#Page_43">43</a>. That they should be gravely proposed in a book of -advice is indication that somebody believes in them; but any class -of students with which I have ever had to deal would be reduced to -mechanical repetition of cant conventionality by the bare sight of such -interrogations.</p> - -<p>One thing which is of importance is the need of encouraging pupils to -judge of any work as a whole. It is so much easier to deal with details -than with a complete work that constantly students leave schools where -the training is in many respects excellent, and have gained no ability -to go beyond the examination of particulars. The far more important -power of estimating a book or a play from its total effect has not been -cultivated. No teacher should forget that the ability to deal fairly -with a whole is of as much more value than any <!-- Page 204 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>facility in minute -criticism as that whole is greater than any of its parts.</p> - -<p>This does not mean that a student can well summarize everything he -reads or that he may wisely attempt it. It does imply that at least his -attention shall have been directed over and over to the great fact that -the study of details is not the study of a masterpiece; that he shall -have been required to judge a book or a play, so far as he is able, as -a whole work and with reference to its entire effect. In talking with -undergraduates even about short works, pieces no longer than a single -essay of Steele or a simple lyric, I constantly find that they are apt -to have no conception whatever that they could or should do anything -but pick out minute details. I ask what it amounts to as a whole, how -it justifies itself, or what is its value as a complete poem or essay, -and they seem utterly unable to see what I am driving at. The painful -attempt to find out what I wish them to say so entirely occupies their -minds as to render them incapable of using whatever power of judgment -they may possess. Not long ago one boy said to me: "I didn't know it -made any difference what the poem was about if you could pick out -things in it." "What do you suppose it was written for?" I asked. A -look of painful bewilderment came into his face, and he answered that -he supposed some folks liked to write that way. I inquired whether he -would test a bridge—he was an engineering student—by picking out bits -without seeing how the parts held <!-- Page 205 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>together and how strong it was as -a whole, and he returned with puzzled frankness: "But a bridge has a -use." "Very good," was what I assured him, "and so does a poem. Can't -you appreciate that mankind has not been keeping poems from generation -to generation without finding out if they really are useless? Any work -of literature that is really good must be of value as a whole, and -you have not got hold of it until you are able to see what it is for -as a single thing, a complete unit." The fact is so evident that it -seems almost absurd to mention it in a book intended for teachers, but -scores of boys come yearly from the fitting-schools who prove how often -the fact is ignored,—ignored, very likely, because it is taken for -granted, but no less ignored with seriously ill effects.</p> - -<p>In general, criticism in the secondary schools should have to do only -with the good points of work. Unless a pupil himself shows that he -perceives shortcomings in what is read, it is on the whole the place -of the instructor to keep the attention of the class fixed on merits, -while defects are ignored. This is not to be interpreted as meaning -that any weakness should ever be allowed to pass for a merit; or as -indicating that it is ever wise to shirk a difficulty. Any intelligent -pupil, for instance, should see for himself that the metaphors are -sadly and inexcusably mixed in the passage:</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer</div> - <div class="line">The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,</div> - <div class="line">Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,</div> - <div class="line">And by opposing end them.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent"><!-- Page 206 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span>It is necessary to meet this knowledge frankly, and to show him how it -is that Shakespeare can be so great in spite of faults like this. It is -the inclination of childhood to feel that a man must be perfect to be -great, but even at the cost of encountering the difficulty of such a -faith the truth must be told. In general, however, it is as well not to -go out of the way to enforce the doctrine of human fallibility, and the -youthful mind is best nourished by being fed on what is good, rather -than by being taught to perceive what is bad.</p> - -<p>When a pupil is asked to put into words the reason why a piece is -written, he should be required to answer by a complete sentence, a -properly phrased assertion. He is not unlikely to begin by giving -a single term, an incomplete and tentative phrase, or at best a -fragmentary statement. For the sake of the clearness of his own -idea and of the habit of accurate thinking, he should be encouraged -and expected to make the idea clear and the statement finished. -Student-criticism, as I have said perhaps often enough already, cannot -in the nature of things be either profound or exhaustive, but it should -be intelligent and well defined as far as it goes.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /> -<p><!-- Page 207 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="Chapter_XV" id="Chapter_XV"></a>XV<br /> - -<small>LITERARY WORKMANSHIP</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The appreciation of literary workmanship dawns very slowly on the -child's mind. In the secondary schools not much can be accomplished -in the way of making students feel the niceties of literary art; -but something should be done to enforce the nature and the worth of -technique. Much that touches the undergraduate's feelings he cannot -analyze, and should never in any work of the secondary schools be -asked to criticise. He should, however, if he is to be systematically -trained in the study of masterpieces, have knowledge enough of the -qualities which distinguish them from lesser work to perceive on what -their claims to superiority are founded. Children so naturally and -so generally feel that distinctions which do not appeal to them are -arbitrary, and it is of so much importance to guard against any feeling -of this sort in the case of literature, that it is worth while to be -at some pains to make distinctions perceptible, even if they may not -always be made entirely clear.</p> - -<p>One of the tests of rank in civilization is appreciation of -workmanship. The savage knows nothing of mechanics beyond the power -of a lever in prying up a rock, the action of a bowstring, or crude -facts <!-- Page 208 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>of this sort. A machine to him is not only incomprehensible, -but supernatural: a locomotive is a fire-devil, and a loom or a -printing-press, should he see one, a useful spirit. At the other end of -the scale of appreciation of mechanical appliances is the inventor who -devises or the trained engineer who understands the most complicated -engines of modern ingenuity. Somewhere between stands any one of -us,—the ordinary pupil presumably far above the savage, but far below -the expert. In the appreciation of the art of the painter, at the -bottom of the scale is the bushman who can look at the clever painting -of a man and not know what it represents, and at the top the great -painters of the world and those who can best enter into the spirit of -their productions. In this scale again each of us stands somewhere; the -average school-boy is unhappily likely to be so far down as to take -delight in the colored illustrations of the Sunday newspapers and to -be utterly indifferent to a Titian or a Rembrandt. In comprehension -of the value and effect of language, the same principle obtains. The -scale extends from the savage tribes with a vocabulary of but a few -hundred words for the entire speech of the race and no power of making -combinations beyond the simplest, to the cultivated nations with -perhaps a couple of hundred thousand words and the art of producing the -highest forms of prose and of poetry. The scale is a long one, and its -development has taken uncounted ages; but somewhere in the line each -individual has his <!-- Page 209 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>place. The degree of the civilization of a race is -unerringly determined by its command of the written word; the mental -rank of the individual is no less certainly fixed by his power of using -and of comprehending human speech.</p> - -<p>This general truth is easily brought home to young people by reminding -them how they began their knowledge of language with the acquirement of -single words and went on to appreciate how much more may be expressed -by word-combinations. After the infantile "give" came in turn "p'ease -give" and "please give me a drink." From such stages each of them has -gone on learning. They have constantly increased their vocabulary, -their knowledge of the value of words, of word-arrangement, and of -sentence-construction. Gradually by practical experience they have -gained some appreciation of all those points which make up the sum of -instruction in classes in composition. They now need to be shown that -literary appreciation is the extension of this knowledge along the same -lines; that it is the means of advancing toward a higher place in that -scale which extends from the ignorant savage to the sages. They may in -this way be brought to a conception of literary technique as a matter -connected with the process of perception which they have been carrying -on from childhood.</p> - -<p>How value in all workmanship is to be judged by the effects produced is -admirably illustrated by machinery, but it is hardly less evident in -the case <!-- Page 210 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>of language. The simpler forms of sentence come to be used by -the child in place of single disconnected words because with sentences -he can do more in the way of communicating his ideas and obtaining what -he desires. To illustrate more complicated forms of language we have -only to remind the child how carefully he orders his speech when he is -endeavoring to coax a favor from an unwilling friend or a reluctant -parent. The child feels himself clever just in proportion as he is -able so to frame his plea that it secures his end. He may be reminded -that he selects most carefully the terms which suggest such things and -ideas as favor his wish and avoids any that might hint at possible -objections. Out of these homely, universal experiences of childhood it -is possible to build up in the mind of the pupil a very fair notion of -the nature and the use of literary workmanship; a notion, moreover, -which is at once sound in principle and entirely adequate as a working -basis.</p> - -<p>Teaching consists principally in helping pupils to extend ideas -which they have received from daily life. In this matter of literary -workmanship, for instance, it means showing them that they have, -without being especially conscious of the fact, a responsiveness -to well-turned forms of speech and to skilful use of words. They -may perhaps be made to appreciate this with especial vividness by -having their attention called to the pleasure they take in clever or -apt sayings from their fellows or from joking speeches. This form -of illustration <!-- Page 211 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>must, it is true, be used with discretion. It is -always difficult to lead the mind of a child from the concrete to -the general. Not a few children—and children, too, of considerable -intelligence—are not unlikely, if jesting remarks are instanced, to -conclude that good literary workmanship means something amusing. With -due care, however, a class may be led to see how the same quality -of apt presentation in word which pleases them in the sayings of -schoolmates is what, carried farther, is the foundation of literary -technique.</p> - -<p>Concrete examples of thoughts so well expressed that they have come to -be almost part of common speech are abundant. The crisp, dry phrases of -Pope lend themselves admirably as illustration, they are so neat, so -compact, and, it may be added, so free from delicate sentiment which -might be blurred in the handling.</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="line">Order is heaven's first law.</div> - <div class="line">An honest man's the noblest work of God.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">The class can supply examples in most cases, and be pleased with itself -for being able to do so. The finer instances from greater writers may -be led up to, the epigrams of Emerson, the imaginative phrases of -Shakespeare; and so on to longer examples, with illustrations from the -rolling paragraphs of Macaulay, the panoplied prose of De Quincey, -and after that from lyrics and passages in blank verse. Thus much -may be done in the way of instruction in technique fairly early in -high-school <!-- Page 212 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>work. With it or after it at a proper interval should -follow instruction in regard at least to the mechanical differences -between prose and poetry and what they mean. I have mentioned -earlier<a name="FNanchor_212:1_14" id="FNanchor_212:1_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_212:1_14" class="fnanchor">[212:1]</a> the impression students often bring from the reading -of Macaulay's "Milton." The remarks there quoted are selected from -answers to a question of an entrance paper in regard to the difference -in form and in quality between prose and poetry. Others from the same -examination show yet more strikingly the general haziness of conception -in the minds of the candidates:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>In prose words are thrown together in a way to make good sense -and to form good English. Poetry is the grouping of words into -a metric [<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">sic</i>] system.</p> - -<p>Poetry is often written in rhyme, while prose is expressed in -sentences.</p> - -<p>Poetry is the name given to writing that is written in verse -form. One does not as a rule get the meaning of things when -they are written in verse form.</p> - -<p>Prose may be verse when dealt with by such an author as -Shakespeare or Milton, but prose usually consists of words -arranged in sentences and paragraphs without any special order.</p> - -<p>Poetry is used as a pastime, and as such is all right.</p> - -<p>Between good blank verse and prose there is not much difference -except in the form of wording in which it is put upon the page.</p> - -<p>For me, the difference between prose and poetry is this: Prose -does not rhyme and poetry does. Under such a definition, all -literature not poetry must be prose. Therefore Shakespeare's -works are prose.</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent"><!-- Page 213 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> -The illustrations might be much extended, but these will show the -confusion which existed in the minds of boys who had been painfully -drilled in the college entrance requirements. I have not selected -the examples for their absurdity, although in a melancholy way they -are droll enough; but I have meant them to illustrate the confusion -which existed in the minds of a large number of the candidates at that -particular examination of what makes the vital difference between prose -and poetry. It is not my contention that teachers in the secondary -schools are to go into minute details in regard to poetic form; but I -do believe that it is idle to talk about the rank of a writer as a poet -or of the beauty of Shakespeare's verse to students who do not know the -difference between verse and prose.</p> - -<p>I may be allowed to remark in passing that to my mind the influence of -the theories of Macaulay's "Milton" alluded to above illustrates the -difference in effect of that which appeals to the personal experience -and feelings of boys and that which they are forced to receive without -such inward interpretation. The boys who were trained in the "Milton" -were trained also in Carlyle's "Burns." The Carlyle, with its eloquent -appreciation of the office of the poet, the seer to whom has been given -"a gift of vision," had apparently left no trace upon their minds. They -had, however, been forced, too often unwilling, over numerous pages of -what they were assured was poetry of the highest quality, yet which to -them was unintelligible <!-- Page 214 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>and wearisome. When Macaulay declared that -poetry was a relic of barbarism they seized upon the theory eagerly -because it justified their own feelings, because it coincided with -their own impressions; and thenceforth they doubtless held complacently -to their faith in the obsolete uselessness of verse, fortified by so -high an authority.</p> - -<p>In the whole body of papers in the examination from which I have been -quoting very few gave the impression that the writer had a clear -conception that somehow, even if he could not express it, a vital -difference exists between poetry and prose. The greater number of -the boys seemed to think that rhyme made the distinction, or that -distortion of sentences was the leading characteristic. Not one -teacher in a score had succeeded in impressing upon his pupils the -fundamental truth that the only excuse poetry can have for existing -is that it fulfils an office impossible for prose. Yet nothing which -can properly be called the study of poetry can be done until this -prime fact is recognized with entire clearness. Beyond the entirely -unanalytical enjoyment of verse, the native responsiveness to rhythm, -and the uncritical pleasure with which one learns to love literature -and to seek it as a means of pleasure, the first, the most primary, the -absolutely indispensable fact to be thoroughly impressed on a young -student is that poetry uses form as a part, and an essential part, of -its language. The boy must be made to understand that just as he tries -by his tone, by his manner, by his <!-- Page 215 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>smile, to produce in his hearers -the mood in which he wishes them to receive what he has to say, so the -poet by his melody, by the form of his verse, by his ringing rhythms or -long, melting cadences, by his rhyme or his pauses, is endeavoring to -interpret the ideas he expresses as surely as he is by the statements -he makes. The truth which the teacher knows, that not infrequently the -metrical effect is really of more value and significance than the ideas -stated, is naturally for the most part too deep for the comprehension -of pupils at this stage. It would only confuse a class to go so far as -this; but if we are to "study" poetry, we must have at least a working -definition of what poetry is, and one which shall commend itself to the -children with whom we are working.</p> - -<p>As a mere suggestion which may be of practical use to some teachers, I -would call attention to what may be done by comparing certain pieces of -prose with the poems which have grown out of them. I know of nothing -better for this use than Tennyson's "Ballad of the Revenge" and the -prose version of Sir Walter Raleigh from which it is taken. In many -parts the language is almost identical,—but with the differences -between robust prose and a stirring lyric. The teacher who can make a -class see what the distinction is, what the ballad accomplishes that -Raleigh has not attempted, will have made clear by concrete example -what poetry does and why it is written. Another example is Byron's -"Destruction of Sennacherib" <!-- Page 216 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>compared with the original version of the -incident as given in the Bible.</p> - -<p>It may seem to some teachers that I am going rather deep, but to such I -should simply propound the question what they understand by the study -of poetry. The natural error of the untrained mind is to regard the -intellectual content of a poem as its reason for being, and to foster -such an error as this is to make forever improbable if not impossible -any intelligent or genuine insight into poetry whatever. If we are -not to protect children against this mistake, fatal as it is to any -perception of the real province and nature of poetic art, what do we -expect to accomplish in all the extensive attention which is under the -present system devoted to the works of the masters?</p> - -<p>That so many boys failed to answer satisfactorily in this matter of -distinguishing between prose and poetry is of course not conclusive -evidence either of general ignorance or of conscious fault on the part -of instructors. Boys often fail in attempts to state distinctions -about which they are yet reasonably clear in their minds, and it may -well be that many who gave absurd replies would have no difficulty in -discriminating between verse and prose,—at least when verse fulfilled -the specification of the candidate who wrote:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>A jagged appearance is the main form-characteristic of blank -verse. Each sentence is a separate line, and every other -sentence is indented about a quarter of an inch.</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent"><!-- Page 217 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> -It would be interesting to present to pupils who have finished the -study of the college requirements half a dozen brief selections, some -prose and some poetry, but all printed in solid paragraphs. The number -of students who could accurately and confidently distinguish in every -case would be a not unfair test of the extent to which the distinction -is understood.</p> - -<p>Teachers probably fail to make this matter clear because they not -unnaturally assume that of course any intelligent lad in his teens -must know the distinction between prose and poetry. Natural as such an -assumption may be, however, it is often—indeed, I am tempted to say -generally—wrong. The chief business of the modern teacher is after -all the instructing of pupils in things which they would naturally be -supposed to know already. It is certainly safer never to assume in -any grade that a student knows anything whatever until he has given -absolute proof. The weakest points in the education of the modern -student are certainly those which are continually taken for granted.</p> - -<p>One of the most serious obstacles in the way of bringing young people -to understand technical excellence and to appreciate literary value is -the difficulty of having school-work done with proper deliberation. It -is doubtful if any process in education can profitably be hurried; it -is certain that nothing of worth can be done in the study of literature -which is not conducted in a leisurely manner. The first care of an -instructor in this delicate <!-- Page 218 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>and difficult branch must be to insure a -genial atmosphere: an atmosphere of tranquillity and of serenity. No -matter how tall a heap of prescribed books may block the way to the -end of the school year, each masterpiece that is dealt with should be -treated with deference and an amount of time proportioned not to its -number of pages but to the speed with which the class can assimilate -its worth and beauty. If worst comes to worst, I would have a teacher -say honestly to his pupils: "We have taken up almost all of the term -by treating what we have studied as literature instead of huddling -through it as a mechanical task. For the sake of examinations we are -forced to crowd the other books in. The process is not fair to them or -to you; so do not make the mistake of supposing that this is the proper -way of treating real books." Children who have been properly trained -will understand the situation and will appreciate the justice of the -proposition.</p> - -<p>In this connection is of interest the remark of an undergraduate -who said that he obtained his first impression of style and of the -effectiveness of words from translating. "I suppose the truth is," -he explained with intelligence, "that in English I never read slowly -enough to get anything more than the story or what was said. When I was -grubbing things out line by line and word by word I at last got an idea -of what my teachers had meant when they talked about the effect of the -choice of words." Many of us can look back to the days <!-- Page 219 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>when we learned -grammar from Latin rather than from English, although we had been over -much the same thing in our own tongue. In the foreign language we had -to go deliberately and we had to apply the principles we learned. Only -when the student is treating literature so slowly and thoroughly that -these conditions are reproduced does he come to any comprehension of -style or indeed of the real value of literature.</p> - -<p>Readers of all ages naturally and normally read anything the first -time for the intellectual content: for the story, for the information, -for that meaning, in short, which is the appeal to the intellectual -comprehension. The great majority are entirely satisfied to go no -farther. They do not, indeed, perceive the reason for going farther; -and they are too often left in ignorance of the fact that they have -entirely missed the qualities which entitle what they have read to be -considered literature in the higher sense.</p> - -<p>In this they are often encouraged, moreover, by the unhappy practice -of making paraphrases. The paraphrasing of masterpieces is to me -nothing less than a sacrilege. It degrades the work of art in the mind -of the child, and contradicts the fundamental principle that poetry -exists solely because it expresses what cannot be adequately said in -any other way. A paraphrase bears the same relation to a lyric, for -instance, that a drop of soapy water does to the iridescent bubble -of which it was once the film. The old cry against the selection of -<!-- Page 220 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>passages from Milton for exercises in parsing should be repeated with -triple force against the use of literature as material for children to -translate from the words of the poet into their own feeble phraseology. -The parsing was by far the lesser evil. It is often necessary to have -an oral explanation of difficult passages; but this should be always -expressly presented as simply a means to help the child to get at -the real significance of a lyric, a sort of ladder to climb by. Any -paraphrasing and explaining should be carefully held to its place as an -inadequate and unfortunate necessity. The class should never be allowed -to think that any paraphrase really represents a poet, or that it is to -be regarded in any light but that of apologetic tolerance.</p> - -<p>In this matter of workmanship, as everywhere else in the process of -dealing with literature, much depends upon the character of the class. -Much must always be left unaccomplished, and much is always wisely -left even unattempted. Often the teacher must go farther in individual -cases than would naturally have been the case in a given grade -because questions will be asked which lead on. It is often necessary, -for instance, to explain that the crowding forward of events made -unavoidable by stage conditions is not a violation of truth, but a -conforming to the truth of art. A lad will object that things could not -move forward so rapidly, and it is then wise to show him that dramatic -truth does not include faithfulness to time, but may <!-- Page 221 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span>condense the -events of days into an hour so long as it is true to human nature and -to the effects those events would have had if occurring at intervals -however great. Again children will object in a tale that the incidents -are not likely to have happened; and it is then necessary to make clear -the distinction between probability and possibility, and how fiction -may deal with either. These matters, however, are to be left to the -intelligence of the individual instructor. If he cannot manage them -wisely without advice, he cannot do it with arbitrary rules.</p> - -<p>For a last word on the matter of training students in the appreciation -of literary form and workmanship I should offer a warning against -attempting too much. Something is certainly unavoidable, but of -minutiæ it is well to exercise what Burke calls "a wise and salutary -neglect." Literary language must be learned or all intelligent work is -utterly impossible; since form is an important element in all artistic -language, it is not possible to ignore this. The extent to which work -can and should go in the study of form in a given class is one of the -matters which the instructor has to decide; and when he has decided it -he must resolutely refuse to allow himself to be unhappy because in the -great realm of literature are so many noble tracts of which he has not -even hinted to his class the existence. If he has done the lesser work -well he has at least put his students in a condition to do the greater -for themselves; if he had attempted more he might have accomplished -nothing.</p> - - -<hr class="footnotes" /> -<p class="sectctrfn">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_212:1_14" id="Footnote_212:1_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_212:1_14"><span class="label">[212:1]</span></a> Page <a href="#Page_36">36</a>.</p></div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /><p><!-- Page 222 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="Chapter_XVI" id="Chapter_XVI"></a>XVI<br /> - -<small>LITERARY BIOGRAPHY</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>How far the biography of authors shall be a part of the school-work is -a question which deserves attention. I began these talks by calling -attention to the fact that it is so much easier to teach details -about the life of a writer than it is to train the youthful mind to a -true appreciation of literature itself. Teachers naturally and almost -unconsciously fall into the habit of over-emphasizing this division of -the history of literature, and questions about the lives of authors are -dangerously easy to formulate for recitation or for examination-paper. -Nothing, however, should be allowed to obscure the idea that the work -and not the worker is the thing with which study should be concerned; -and everybody would agree that in theory the limit to biographical -inquiry in secondary-school study is the extent to which a knowledge of -an author's career or personality aids to the understanding of what he -has written.</p> - -<p>To say this, however, is much like restating the question. Like a good -deal that passes for argument, it only puts the problem in other words; -for we are at once confronted with the doubt how far a pupil in the -secondary school is likely to be <!-- Page 223 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>helped by knowing about the facts of -a writer's life. At the beginning of the "Spectator" Addison remarks:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>I have observed that a reader seldom peruses a book with -pleasure, till he knows whether the writer of it be a black -or a fair man, of a mild or choleric disposition, married or -a bachelor, with other particulars of the like nature, that -conduce very much to the right understanding of an author.</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">I may frankly confess that this is so entirely untrue of myself that -I am perhaps not a fair judge for others. Since it is to me a matter -almost of indifference who wrote a book, where or when he lived, what -he was and what he did, I have not perhaps estimated rightly the -effect of biography on children. I am firm in my belief, however, that -for making literature more clear, more vivid, more attractive, the -effect of a knowledge of the author's life is with children apt to be -practically nothing. If they are interested in a book, they may on that -account like to know something of the man who wrote it, but I have yet -to find a student who really cared for a piece of literature because he -had been made to learn facts about the author. That a book was written -in a given age will account to him for fashions of thought strange -to-day, but he is seldom able to carry such analysis beyond the most -general idea.</p> - -<p>In regard to helping scholars in the secondary schools to understand -a given piece of literature by instructing them about the personality -of the <!-- Page 224 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>writer, I am quite as skeptical. It may be that one lad in a -hundred may come to a better appreciation of a book from what he knows -of the temperament of the author. It is possible to point this out in -occasional striking instances. If a boy read "A Modest Proposal," a -teacher naturally calls attention to the character of Swift as having -determined the ferocious form which this plea for humanity has taken; -in dealing with "The Journal of the Plague Year" it is inevitable that -the instructor speak of the journalistic tendency of Defoe, which led -him to write on topics which were at the moment before the public. In -either case the result is not important in the sense of going much -beyond what the student may be made to feel without any mention of the -writer or the writer's peculiarities.</p> - -<p>It is very easy to delude ourselves into feeling that we are being -helpful when in reality we are simply being pedagogic. If our pupils -were so far advanced as to be able to perceive the subtle relations -between character and literature, between the nature of a writer and -the interpretation we are to put upon what he has written, they would -in most cases be better fitted to instruct us than to receive any -instruction we are able to furnish. It is sometimes well to give pupils -things which we are aware they cannot grasp; to show them the existence -of lines of thought which they are not yet qualified to carry out. -Our aim in this is to broaden their perceptions, and to direct them -<!-- Page 225 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span>toward truths which later they may investigate for themselves. In the -secondary schools, however, very little of this sort can be profitably -done in connection with anything so complex and subtle as the relation -of the character of an author to his work. Young people must take -literature at its face value, so to say, and in teaching them to do -this is more than room for all the energies a teacher in these grades -can bring to bear.</p> - -<p>The history of literature, its development, its relations to the -evolution of human thought, should all be as far as possible familiar -to the teacher; and no instructor with knowledge and enthusiasm is -likely to ignore any of these in dealing with masterpieces. They must -all, however, be brought forward with care, for it is easy to overwhelm -the mind of the young, especially in an age like the present when a -child goes to school with attention already strained by the imperative -and insistent calls of daily life. Students on leaving the high school -should be familiar with the place in the centuries of authors they have -especially studied, and of the score or so of writers most important -in English literature from Chaucer down. With the exact details of -biography they need not have been concerned. If they have had curiosity -enough to look these up as a matter of individual interest, it is -well, although I am not sure that anything is gained by encouraging -this research. To know of Shakespeare, of Chaucer, and of Milton, for -instance, what may be put into a dozen lines; <!-- Page 226 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>and of lesser writers to -have proportionate information, seems to me ample. The work and not the -worker is of importance; the book and not the author; the poem and not -the poet.</p> - -<p>Many teachers will not agree with me in giving to the personality and -the biographies of writers so small a place. Every man must judge by -his own experience, and I can only say that every year I deal with -classes in literature I find myself deliberately giving less attention -to the history of literature. I have insisted already upon the danger -that such study shall take the place of the consideration of literature -itself, and I have now attempted to reënforce that thought by stating -definitely what it seems to me wise to attempt in the secondary -schools. I do not desire to be dogmatic, however, and here as elsewhere -the conclusion of the whole matter is that while the question of the -wisdom of giving extended instruction in literary history or biography -is to be carefully considered, each instructor must frame the answer -according to personal experience and the individual needs of any given -class.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /><p><!-- Page 227 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="Chapter_XVII" id="Chapter_XVII"></a>XVII<br /> - -<small>VOLUNTARY READING</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>No teacher who is really concerned with the development of the pupil's -mind can afford to ignore outside influences. Indeed, even were a -teacher conceivable who, consciously or unconsciously, cared only to -drag scholars over the prescribed course, he would yet be forced to -take into account the effect of every-day life and circumstance, and -under existing conditions every teacher is sure to find that he is to -a great extent obliged to do the work of the home in all that relates -to the æsthetic training of a large number of children. In teaching -literature it is not only wise but it is easy to discover and to a -large extent to influence whatever reading pupils do of their own will -outside of the required work.</p> - -<p>Thoroughly to accomplish all that a teacher desires, or even all that -is often expected of him, would be possible only to the gods; and it -is evident enough that no instructor can exercise complete parental -supervision over all the life of the pupils under him. Certain things -in the training of the young are accomplished at home or go forever -undone. Perhaps the most serious difficulty in this whole complicated -business of education is <!-- Page 228 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>that the schoolmaster is so largely called -upon to undo what is done outside the schoolroom. He may at least be -thankful that in the matter of reading he is dealing with something -tangible, something in which so many of his flock may with skilful -management be influenced.</p> - -<p>In a leaflet published under the auspices of the New England -Association of Teachers of English, "The Voluntary Reading of High -School Scholars," Professor W. C. Bronson, of Brown University, -comments on the fact that the mind of the young person is likely to -perceive little relation between the literature administered at school -and the books voluntarily read outside. He says:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>Many of our high-school youth are leading a double life in -things literary: in the class-room Doctor Jekyll studies the -lofty idealism of "Comus" or "Paradise Lost;" outside, Mr. -Hyde revels in the yellow journalism and the flashy novel; and -in many cases Doctor Jekyll does not even realize that he has -changed into another and lower being.</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">The difficulty in making boys and girls realize a connection between -school-work and actual life is familiar to every teacher. I am -personally convinced that one reason for this—although obviously not -the only one—is the modern tendency to diminish the sense of value and -necessity by too much yielding to the inclination of the child. Coaxing -along the line of the least resistance is sure to produce an effective -even if hardly conscious indifference, which is far less healthy than -the temper <!-- Page 229 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>of mind bred by insistence upon progress along the line -of duty. Be that as it may, however, the modern scholar generally -regards school as one thing and life as practically another. Books read -in the class-room, books studied, discussed as a part of formal and -required work, are felt to be remote from daily existence and almost as -something a bit unreal. They may be even enjoyed, and yet seem to the -illogical youthful mind as having a certain adult quality which sets -them apart from any vital connection with the life of youth. It is not -uncommon, I believe, for a boy to like a book in his private capacity, -reading it for simple and unaffected pleasure, and yet to feel it -almost a duty to be bored by the same book when it comes up as a part -of the work of the school-room.</p> - -<p>Very likely a hint of the explanation of the whole matter is to be -found in this last fact. In the first place the work of the schoolroom, -however gently administered, represents compulsion, and we have -trained the rising generation to feel that compulsion is a thing to -be abhorred. Perhaps nothing could ever make school-work the same -as the life which is voluntary and spontaneous; but modern methods -have generally not succeeded in minimizing this difficulty. In the -second place, teachers are too often uncareful or unable to soften the -differences between reading without responsibility of thoroughness -and reading with the consciousness that class-room questionings may -lie beyond. Almost any child has the power of treating <!-- Page 230 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span>a book or a -poem as a friend when he reads for pleasure and of regarding the same -book as an enemy when it becomes a lesson. The thing is normal and not -unhealthy; but it is to be reckoned with and counteracted.</p> - -<p>Professor Bronson, in his brief discussion of the matter, goes on to -remark that where the Jekyll and Hyde attitude of mind exists—which to -some degree, I believe, would be in every <span class="nospace">pupil—</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>The first task of the teacher is to make the pupil fully -realize it and to urge upon him the necessity of discrimination -in his voluntary reading. For this purpose ridicule of trashy -books by name and praise of good books, with reasons why they -are good, may well fill the part of a recitation period, now -and then, even though the routine work suffer a little. For the -same purpose, it is very desirable that more of the best modern -literature be made a part of the English course, especially -in the earlier years, when the pupil's taste is forming, for -it is easier to bring such works into close relation with his -voluntary reading. The teacher of English may also consider -himself recreant if he does not give his class advice about -the reading of magazines and instructions how to read the -newspapers.</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">With the spirit of this I agree entirely. The letter does not seem -to me entirely satisfactory. I have learned to be a little afraid -of ridicule as a means of affecting the minds of the young in any -direction. It is the easiest of methods, but no less is it the one -which requires the most prudence and delicacy. It is the one which is -most surely open to the error of the point of view. If the teacher -tries <!-- Page 231 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>to lessen the inclination of pupils for specific books by -ridicule, he can do no good unless he is able to make the class feel -that these books are ridiculous not only according to the standards of -the teacher but according to the standard of the child. To prove that -from the instructor's point of view a book is poor and silly amounts -to little if the work really appeals to the young. No more is effected -than would be accomplished if the teacher told lusty lads that to him -playing ball seemed a foolish form of amusement. They appreciate at -once that he is speaking from a point of view which is not theirs and -which they have no wish to share. He must be able to make it evident -that the book in question, with its attractions, which he must frankly -acknowledge, is poor when judged by standards which the pupils feel to -be true and which belong to the sphere of boyhood.</p> - -<p>I confess with contrition that in my zeal for good literature I have in -earlier days spoken contemptuously of popular and trashy books which -I had reason to think my boys probably enjoyed and admired. I believe -I was wrong. Now I do not hesitate to say what I think about any book -when a student asks me, but I make it a rule never in class to attack -specific books or authors for anything but viciousness, and that -question is hardly likely to arise in the secondary schools. I cannot -afford to run the risk of alienating the sympathies of my pupils, -and of arousing a feeling that my point of view is so far removed -from theirs that they cannot <!-- Page 232 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>trust my opinions to be sympathetic. -The normal attitude of the child toward the adult is likely enough -to be that of believing "grown-ups" to be so far from understanding -what children really care for as to be entirely untrustworthy in the -selection of reading. The child disregards or distrusts the judgments -of his elders not on abstract grounds, but merely from an instinctive -feeling that adults do not look at things from his point of view. I -always fear lest by an unwise condemnation of a book which a lad has -enjoyed I may be strengthening this perfectly natural and inevitably -stubborn conviction.</p> - -<p>The first and most important means of influencing outside reading -is by impressing upon the child's mind the idea that he is studying -literature chiefly for the sake of reading to himself and for himself. -About this should be no doubt or uncertainty. No child should for -a moment be allowed to suppose that such dealing with books as is -possible in the school-room can be chiefly for its own sake, can be -so much an end as a means. To allow him to suppose that the few works -he goes over can be held adequately to represent the great literary -treasures of the race, or that he can be supposed to do more than to -learn how to deal with literature for himself, is at once to make -instruction in this branch more an injury than a benefit. It would -be no more reasonable than to allow him to think that he learns the -multiplication-table for the sake of his school "sums" rather than -<!-- Page 233 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>that he may have an effective tool to help him in the practical affairs -of life.</p> - -<p>To influence outside work of any sort is difficult, especially in -city schools where the pupils are subject to so many distractions. -The teacher is generally obliged to make his effort in this direction -almost entirely individual, treating no two scholars exactly in the -same way, and he is not infrequently obliged to employ a considerable -amount of shrewdness in the process. "When I wish to talk to John Smith -about his reading," a clever teacher said in my hearing, "I send to him -to see me about his spelling, or his handwriting, or anything to give -an excuse for a chat. Then I bring in the thing I am aiming at as if by -accident." The number of instructors possessed of the adroitness, the -time, and the patience for this sort of finesse is probably not large; -but much may be done by words dropped apparently by chance, if only the -instructor has the matter earnestly at heart.</p> - -<p>How far the relation of books in the required reading to books read -voluntarily may profitably be insisted upon in class must depend -largely upon the particular pupils involved. Every teacher will -certainly do well to find out what his students are reading outside, -if they are reading anything, and he should then consider what use to -make of his knowledge. The very fact that he concerns himself about -the matter will call the attention of the class to the fact that a -connection exists; and that it is real enough to be worth heeding. -Any wise <!-- Page 234 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>teacher will find an advantage in having indications of the -natural tastes and inclinations of those he is trying to train, and to -know what the boys and girls really like to read will often correct a -tendency to speak of the required readings in a tone that is outside -the range of the sympathies of the scholars. If he knows that the girls -are fond of weeping over "The Broken Heart of the Barmaid," that the -boys revel in "The Bloody Boot-jack," that both find "Mrs. Pigs of the -Potato-patch" exquisitely amusing, he sees at once that he must be -cautious in dwelling on the pathos of "Evangeline," the romance of "The -Flight of a Tartar Tribe," or the humor of Charles Lamb. Children fed -on intellectual viands so coarse would find real literature insipid, -and must be trained with frank acceptance of that fact.</p> - -<p>To say that teachers may also often do something in the way of arousing -parents to do their part in guiding the reading of children is to go -somewhat outside of my field. The public asks so much of teachers -already that any hint of labor in the homes of pupils seems—and -in many cases would be—nothing less than the suggestion of an -impossibility. If I were to urge the matter, I should do it purely on -the ground that teachers may sometimes greatly lessen the difficulty -of the task they undertake in the school-room by a little judicious -labor in the home. In the public schools to-day many children, perhaps -even a majority, come from homes wherein no literary standard is -<!-- Page 235 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>apparent, and where for the most part none exists. They are being given -a training which their parents did not have, and they feel themselves -better able to direct their elders in things intellectual than their -fathers and mothers are to advise them. In these cases, certainly very -numerous, the teacher must accept the inevitable, and do what he can by -inducing his pupils to talk with him about their outside reading. Where -parents are more cultivated, much may often be effected by the simple -request or suggestion that the young folk be supervised a little in the -choice of books. The teacher must of course use tact in doing anything -in this line, especially in those cases where such a request is most -needed. Parents who pay least attention to such matters are especially -likely to resent interference with their prerogative of neglecting -their children, though they may generally be reached by the flattery -of a carefully phrased request for coöperation. Few things are more -delicate to handle than neglected duties, and the fathers and mothers -who shirk all responsibility for the mental training of their offspring -must be approached as if they jealously tried to leave nothing in this -line for any teacher to do.</p> - -<p>The most common fault of young people to-day in connection with reading -is the neglect of books altogether or the devouring of fiction of a -poor quality. To urge boys and girls to read good books or to admonish -them to avoid poor ones is seldom likely to effect much. Such direct -and general <!-- Page 236 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span>appeal is sure to seem to them part of the teacher's -professional routine work, and not to alter their inclinations or to -make any especial difference with their practice. Children are led -to care for good reading only by being made acquainted with books -that appeal to them; and they are protected against poor or injurious -reading only by being given a taste for what is better.</p> - -<p>This summing-up of the situation is easily made, but how to make -children acquainted in a vital and pleasant fashion with good books and -how to cultivate the taste is really the whole problem which we are -studying. This is the aim and the substance of all genuine teaching -of literature, and everything in these talks is an attempt to help -toward an answer. When the problem of voluntary reading has been -satisfactorily solved the work of the teacher is practically done, -for the pupil is sure to go forward in the right direction whether he -is led or not. All that treatment of literature which for convenience -I have called "inspirational" is directly in the line of developing -and raising the taste of young readers, and beyond this I do not see -that specific rules can be given. Personal influence is after all -what tells, and the most that can be done here is to call attention -to the fact that in so far as a teacher can influence and direct the -voluntary reading of a pupil he has secured a most efficient aid to his -school-work in literature.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /><p><!-- Page 237 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="Chapter_XVIII" id="Chapter_XVIII"></a>XVIII<br /> - -<small>IN GENERAL</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Throughout these talks I have tried to deal with the teaching of -literature in practical fashion, not letting theory lead me to forget -the conditions actually existing. To consider an ideal state of things -might be interesting, but it would hardly help the teacher bothered -by the difficulties of every-day school-work. I have intended always -to keep well within the field of ordinary experience, and to make -suggestions applicable to average teaching. How well I have succeeded -can be judged better by teachers than by me; but I wish in closing -to insist that at least I believe that what I have said is every-day -common sense.</p> - -<p>I have throughout assumed always that no teacher worthy of the name -can be content with merely formal or conventional results, but will be -determined that pupils shall be brought to some understanding of what -literature really is and of why it is worthy of serious attention—to -some appreciation, in a word, of literature as an art. If an instructor -could be satisfied with fitting boys and girls for examinations, -nothing could be simpler or easier; but I am sure that I am right in -believing that our public-school teachers are eagerly anxious <!-- Page 238 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>to -make of this study all that is possible in the line of developing and -ennobling their pupils.</p> - -<p>Every earnest teacher knows that literature cannot be taught by -arbitrary methods. The handling of classes studying the masterpieces -of genius must be shaped by the knowledge and the inspiration of the -individual teacher or it is naught. Neither I nor another may give a -receipt for strengthening the imagination, for instilling taste, for -arousing enthusiasm. All that any book of this sort can effect, and all -that I have endeavored to do, is to protest against methods that are -formal and deadening, to offer suggestions which may—even if only by -disagreement—help to make definite the teacher's individual ideas, and -to warn against dangers which beset the path of all of us to whom is -committed the high office of teaching this noble art.</p> - -<p>The idea which I have hoped most strongly to enforce is the possibility -of arousing in children, even in those bred without refining or -intellectual influences, an appreciation of the spirit and the -teachings of the great writers, a love for good books which may -lead them to go on with the study after they have passed beyond the -school-room. The best literature is so essentially human, it so truly -and so irresistibly appeals to natural instincts and interests, that -for its appreciation nothing is needed but that it be understood. To -produce and to cultivate such understanding should be, I believe, the -chief aim of any course in literature.</p> - -<p><!-- Page 239 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> -The understanding and the appreciation must of course vary according -to the temperament and the responsiveness of the child. Miracles are -not to be expected. No teacher need suppose that the street Arab and -the newsboy will lie down with Browning and rise up with Chaucer; that -Sally and Molly will give up chewing gum for Shakespeare, or that Tom, -Dick, and Harry will prefer Wordsworth to football. In his own way and -to his own degree, however, each child will enjoy whatever literature -he has comprehended. As far as he can be made to care for anything not -directly personal or appealing to the senses, he may be made to care -for this. Nature has taken care of the matter of fitting children to -understand and to love literature as it has prepared them to desire -life. To bring the young into appreciation of the best that has been -thought and recorded by man, there is but one way: make them familiar -with it.</p> - -<p>It is a mistake to suppose, moreover, that an especial sort of books is -needed for children. A selection there should be, and it is manifestly -necessary to exercise common sense in choice of works for study. A -class that will be deeply interested in "Macbeth" would be simply -puzzled and bored by "Troilus and Cressida." Childish games for the -intellect there may be, as there are childish amusements for the body; -but so far as serious training is concerned there is neither adult -literature nor juvenile literature, but simply literature.</p> - -<p>The range of the mind of a child is limited, and <!-- Page 240 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span>the experience -demanded for the simplest comprehension of a work may be necessarily -beyond the possible reach of child life.<a name="FNanchor_240:1_15" id="FNanchor_240:1_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_240:1_15" class="fnanchor">[240:1]</a> The limitations of -youth have, however, and should have, the same effect in literature as -in life. They restrict the comprehension and the appreciation of the -facts of existence, and equally they restrict the comprehension and -the appreciation of the facts in what is read. The impressions which -the child takes from what he sees or from what he reads are not those -of his elders, although this is less generally true of emotions than -of facts. The important point is that the impressions shall be vital -and wholesome, and above all else that they be true with the actual -verity of human experience. We all commit errors in the conclusions we -draw from life; and children will make mistakes in the lessons they -draw from books. Books which are wise and sane, however, will sooner or -later correct any misconceptions they beget, just as life in time makes -clear the false conclusions which life itself has produced.</p> - -<p>I have spoken more or less about the enjoyment of this study by -children, and it is difficult if not impossible to conceive that if -a class is rightly handled most children will not find the work a -pleasure. It is necessary, however, to be a little on our guard in the -practical application of the principle that children get nothing out -of literature unless they enjoy it. They certainly cannot enjoy it -unless they get something out of it; but it will <!-- Page 241 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span>hardly do to make the -enjoyment of a class too entirely the test by which to decide what work -the class shall do. Pupils should be stimulated to solid effort in the -way of application and concentration, and I have already pointed out -that in mastering the difficulties of literary language they should -be made to do whatever drudgery is needed, whether they are inclined -to it or not. They cannot, moreover, read with intelligence anything -with real thought in it, until they have learned concentration of mind. -Children, like their elders, value most what has cost something to -attain, and facile enjoyment may mean after-indifference.</p> - -<p>The contagion of enthusiasm is one of the means by which children are -most surely induced to put forth their best efforts to understand and -to assimilate. If the teacher is genuinely enthusiastic in his love -for a masterpiece, even if this be something that might seem to be -over the heads of the children, he arouses them in a way impossible -of attainment by any other means. A boy once said to me with that -shrewdness which is characteristic of youth, "My teacher didn't -like that book, and we all knew it by the way she praised it." Sham -enthusiasm does not deceive children; but they are always impressed by -the genuine, and no influence is more powerful.</p> - -<p>The most serious obstacle which teachers of literature to-day meet -with, I am inclined to think, is the difficulty children have in -seizing abstract ideas.<a name="FNanchor_241:1_16" id="FNanchor_241:1_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_241:1_16" class="fnanchor">[241:1]</a> So long as study and instruction are -<!-- Page 242 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>confined to the concrete and the particular the pupil works with -good will and intelligence. The moment the boundary is crossed into -the region of the general, he becomes confused, baffled, and unable -to follow. The algebra of life is too much for the brain which is -accustomed to deal only with definite values. What is evidently needed -all along the line is the cultivation of the reasoning powers in the -ability to deal with abstract thought. Personally I believe that this -could be best secured by the simplification of the work in the lower -grades, and by the introduction of thorough courses in English grammar -and the old-fashioned mental arithmetic. If some forty per cent. of -the present curriculum could be suppressed altogether, and then ten -per cent. of the time gained given to these two admirable branches, -the results of training in the lower grades, I am convinced, would -show an enormous improvement. I may be wrong in this, and in any case -we must deal with things as they exist; and the teacher of literature -must accept the fact that he has largely to train his class in breadth -of thinking. He will be able to deal with generalizations only so far -as he is assured that his students will grasp them, and this will -generally mean so far as he is able to teach them to deal with this -class of ideas.</p> - -<hr class="thoughtbreak" /> - -<p>This book has stretched beyond the limits which in the beginning were -set for it, and in the <!-- Page 243 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>end the one thing of which I am most conscious -is of having accomplished the emphasizing of the difficulties of the -branch of work with which it is concerned. If I have done nothing more -than that, I have discouraged where I meant to help; and I can only -hope that at least between the lines if not in the actual statements -may be found by the earnest and hard-working teachers of the land—that -class too little appreciated and worthy so much honor—hints which will -make easier and more effective their dealing with this most important -and most difficult requirement of the modern curriculum.</p> - - -<hr class="footnotes" /> -<p class="sectctrfn">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_240:1_15" id="Footnote_240:1_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_240:1_15"><span class="label">[240:1]</span></a> See pages <a href="#Page_68">68-70</a>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_241:1_16" id="Footnote_241:1_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_241:1_16"><span class="label">[241:1]</span></a> See page <a href="#Page_112">112</a>.</p></div> - -<p><!-- Page 244 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /> -<p><!-- Page 245 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="INDEX" id="INDEX"></a>INDEX</h2> -</div> - - -<ul class="list"> - <li class="newletter">Abilities of children differ, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>.</li> - - <li>Abstract ideas, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112-115</a>.</li> - - <li>Acting out poems, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>.</li> - - <li>Addison, <cite>De Coverley Papers</cite>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146-150</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Spectator</cite>, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>.</li> - - <li>Analysis <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">vs.</i> synthesis, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>.</li> - - <li>Art, literature an, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">not to be translated into words, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">purpose of, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>.</li> - - - <li class="newletter">Bach, <cite>Passion Music</cite>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.</li> - - <li>Beethoven, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Ninth Symphony</cite>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.</li> - - <li>Biography, literary, <a href="#Page_222">222-226</a>.</li> - - <li>Blake, William, quoted, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>The Tiger</cite>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96-108</a>.</li> - - <li>Bronson, W. C., <cite>Voluntary Reading</cite>, <a href="#Page_228">228</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>.</li> - - <li>Brown, Dr. John, quoted, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>.</li> - - <li>Browning, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>How they Brought the Good News</cite>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>The Lost Leader</cite>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>.</li> - - <li>Burke, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Speech on Conciliation</cite>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138-146</a>.</li> - - <li>Byron, <cite>Destruction of Sennacherib</cite>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>.</li> - - - <li class="newletter">Carlyle, <cite>Burns</cite>, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>.</li> - - <li>Chaucer, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>.</li> - - <li>Children, abilities differ, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">at disadvantage, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">comply mechanically, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">conceal feeling, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">do not know how to study, <a href="#Page_46">46-48</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">know when bored, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">learn life by living, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">must be taught in own language, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">must do own work, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">must form estimates, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">not affected by preaching, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">puzzled by literature, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">responsive to metrical effects, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">skip morals, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">their world, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">too much demanded of, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">understand only through personal experience, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.</li> - - <li>Coleridge, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Ancient Mariner</cite>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>.</li> - - <li>College entrance requirements, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">books, <a href="#Page_34">34-38</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">editors of, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>.</li> - - <li>Conventionality, how met, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>.</li> - - <li>Cook, May Estelle, <cite>Methods of Teaching Novels</cite>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>.</li> - - <li>"Cramming," <a href="#Page_59">59</a>.</li> - - <li>Criticism, <a href="#Page_193">193-206</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">asked of pupils, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">of trashy books, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">must take pupil's point of view, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>.</li> - - - <li class="newletter">Decker, quoted, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>.</li> - - <li>Defoe, <cite>Journal of the Plague Year</cite>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.</li> - - <li>Deliberation in work necessary, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>.</li> - - <li>Description, how written by pupils, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.</li> - - <li>De Quincey, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">definition of literature, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Flight of a Tartar Tribe</cite>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>.</li> - - <li>Diagrams, futility of, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>.</li> - - <li>Dickens, quoted, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>.</li> - - <li>Didactic literature, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.</li> - - - <li class="newletter">Edgeworth, Maria, <cite>Parents' Assistant</cite>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.</li> - - <li>Eliot, George, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Silas Marner</cite>, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>.</li> - - <li>Emerson, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">quoted, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.</li> - - <li>Emotion, aim of literature to arouse, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">in literature, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">the motive power, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</li> - - <li>Enthusiasm, connected with culture, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">contagious, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">necessary in teaching, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">justification of, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">reason to be reached through, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>.</li> - - <li><cite>Evangeline</cite>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">questions on, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>.</li> - - <li>Examinational teaching, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121-135</a>.</li> - - <li>Examinations, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">an Institute paper, <a href="#Page_130">130-135</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">best prepared for by broad teaching, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">boy's view of, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">danger of, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">entrance, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">inevitable, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">necessarily a makeshift, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">not the aim in teaching, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">study for, <a href="#Page_121">121-130</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">valuable only as tests, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">what counts in, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">what examinations should test, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>.</li> - - - <li class="newletter">Fables, truth of, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>.</li> - - <li>Fielding, <cite>Tom Jones</cite>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>.</li> - - - <li class="newletter">Goldsmith, <cite>Vicar of Wakefield</cite>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.</li> - - - <li class="newletter">Hawthorne, quoted, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</li> - - <li><cite>Heart of Oak Series</cite>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.</li> - - <li>Honesty essential in teaching, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>.</li> - - - <li class="newletter">Illustrations, care in using, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>.</li> - - <li><cite>Il Percone</cite>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</li> - - <li>Imagination essential in study of literature, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">not created but developed, <!-- Page 246 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span><a href="#Page_53">53</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">nourished by literature, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>.</li> - - <li>Inspirational use of literature, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88-95</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>.</li> - - <li>Irving, <cite>Life of Goldsmith</cite>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>.</li> - - <li><cite>Ivanhoe</cite>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">quoted, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">study of, <a href="#Page_159">159-163</a>.</li> - - - <li class="newletter">Johnson, Samuel, quoted, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.</li> - - <li>"Juvenile" literature, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.</li> - - - <li class="newletter">Lamb, Charles, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>.</li> - - <li>Language of literature, <a href="#Page_63">63-67</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">of pupils, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, <a href="#Page_68">68-70</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">value judged by effect, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>.</li> - - <li>Life, "realities of," <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.</li> - - <li>Limitations, inevitable, <a href="#Page_46">46-48</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">must be accepted, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">youthful, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>.</li> - - <li>Litchfield, Mary E., quoted, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>.</li> - - <li>Literature, a Fine Art, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">aim of, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">algebraic, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">approached through personal experience, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">deals with abstract ideas, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">difficulty in teaching, <a href="#Page_28">28-38</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">defined by De Quincey, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">essentially human, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">history of, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">"juvenile," <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">language of, <a href="#Page_63">63-67</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">measured by life, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">must be connected with life, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">must be taught in language of learner, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">not didactic, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">not taught by arbitrary methods, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">nourishes imagination, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">pupils indifferent to, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">relation to life, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">reproduces mood, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">symbolic, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">truth in, <a href="#Page_112">112-114</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">vocabulary of, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">why included in school course, <a href="#Page_11">11-27</a>.</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><em>See</em> <a href="#Study_of_literature">Study of Literature</a>; <a href="#Teaching_of_literature">Teaching of Literature</a>; <a href="#Literary_workmanship">Literary Workmanship</a>.</li> - - <li>Literary appreciation, may be unconscious, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.</li> - - <li><a name="Literary_workmanship" id="Literary_workmanship"></a>Literary workmanship, <a href="#Page_207">207-221</a>.</li> - - <li>Longfellow, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Evangeline</cite>, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>.</li> - - - <li class="newletter">Macaulay, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Life of Johnson</cite>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Milton</cite>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>.</li> - - <li><cite>Macbeth</cite>, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">false explanations of words in, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">Miss Cook on, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">note on, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">study of, <a href="#Page_165">165-192</a>.</li> - - <li><cite>Machiavellus</cite>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</li> - - <li>Memorizing, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.</li> - - <li><cite>Merchant of Venice</cite>, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>.</li> - - <li>Metrical effects, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">beyond ordinary students, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">children susceptible to, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">in <cite>Evangeline</cite>, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">relation to character, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">study of, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><i lang="la" xml:lang="la">vs.</i> intellectual content, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li> - - <li>Middleton, <cite>Witch</cite>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</li> - - <li>Milton, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Comus</cite>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_228">228</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Il Penseroso</cite>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>L'Allegro</cite>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Lycidas</cite>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_228">228</a>.</li> - - <li><cite>Milton</cite>, Macaulay's, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>.</li> - - <li>Moral, drawn by children, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">not to be drawn by teacher, <a href="#Page_71">71-73</a>, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">skipped by children, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>.</li> - - - <li class="newletter">North, <cite>Plutarch's Lives</cite>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>.</li> - - <li>Notes, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">to be studied first, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> - - <li>Novel, study of, <a href="#Page_152">152-164</a>.</li> - - - <li class="newletter"><cite>Œdipus</cite>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>.</li> - - <li>Oral recitation, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>.</li> - - <li>Originality in children, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>.</li> - - - <li class="newletter">Parables, truth of, <a href="#Page_21">21-22</a>.</li> - - <li>Paraphrases, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>.</li> - - <li>Plutarch, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>.</li> - - <li>Poetry, compared with prose, <a href="#Page_211">211-217</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">nature of, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>.</li> - - <li>Point of departure, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>.</li> - - <li>Point of view, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>.</li> - - <li>Pope, quoted, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>.</li> - - <li>Praise, not to be given beforehand, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">when wise, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.</li> - - <li>Prose, compared with poetry, <a href="#Page_212">212-217</a>.</li> - - - <li class="newletter">Quicken tree, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</li> - - - <li class="newletter">Raleigh, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>.</li> - - <li>Raphael, <cite>Dresden Madonna</cite>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>.</li> - - <li>Ray, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</li> - - <li>Reading, aloud, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">final, of play, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">first, of play, <a href="#Page_176">176-179</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">in concert, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">intelligent, basis of study, <a href="#Page_61">61-67</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">second, of play, <a href="#Page_179">179-186</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">voluntary, <a href="#Page_227">227-236</a>.</li> - - <li>Readings, disputed, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>.</li> - - <li>Reference, books of, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>.</li> - - <li>Rembrandt, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>The Night Watch</cite>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>.</li> - - <li>Riche, Barnabie, quoted, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</li> - - <li>Ridicule, danger of, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>.</li> - - <li>Roosevelt, President, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>.</li> - - - <li class="newletter">Sarcasm, forbidden, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>.</li> - - <li>Scott, <cite>Ivanhoe</cite>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159-163</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Lady of the Lake</cite>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>.</li> - - <li>Shakespeare, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Hamlet</cite>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">ill-judged notes on, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Julius Cæsar</cite>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Lear</cite>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Macbeth</cite>, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165-192</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Merchant of Venice</cite>, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Midsummer Night's Dream</cite>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Othello</cite>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">quoted, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">reason of greatness unexplained, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Richard III</cite>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Romeo and Juliet</cite>, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Tempest</cite>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Troilus and Cressida</cite>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>.</li> - - <li><cite>Silas Marner</cite>, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">note on, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</li> - - <li><cite>Sir Roger de Coverley Papers</cite>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">study of, <a href="#Page_146">146-150</a>.</li> - - <li><cite>Speech on Conciliation</cite>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">study of, <a href="#Page_138">138-146</a>.</li> - - <li>Stevenson, <cite>Treasure Island</cite>, <a href="#Page_152">152-159</a>.</li> - - <li><!-- Page 247 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span>Swift, <cite>A Modest Proposal</cite>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.</li> - - <li><a name="Study_of_literature" id="Study_of_literature"></a>Study of literature, in lower grades, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">must be deliberate, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">not study about literature, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">not study of notes, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">object of, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">obstacles to to-day, <a href="#Page_39">39-60</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">overweighted with details, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">puzzling to students, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">test of success in, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">used as gymnasium, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>.</li> - - <li>Summary, not a criticism, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>.</li> - - <li>Supernatural, the, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">in <cite>Macbeth</cite>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">in <cite>The Ancient Mariner</cite>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>.</li> - - <li>Superstition, about witch, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">about quicken tree, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</li> - - <li>Synthesis <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">vs.</i> analysis, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>.</li> - - - <li class="newletter">Teacher asks too much, <a href="#Page_41">41-46</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">ignores strain on pupil, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">must have clear ideas, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">must take things as they are, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">not clear as to object, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">not equal to demands, <a href="#Page_53">53-60</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">obliged to do work of home, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">to lead, not to drive, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>.</li> - - <li>Teaching, helping to extend ideas, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">method in, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.</li> - - <li><a name="Teaching_of_literature" id="Teaching_of_literature"></a>Teaching of literature, aim of, <a href="#Page_11">11-27</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69-70</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">cannot be done by rule, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">choice of selections in, <a href="#Page_90">90-92</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">confused methods, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">deals with emotion, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">educational, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109-120</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">examinational, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121-135</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">fine passages taken up in, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">importance of reading aloud in, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">inspirational, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88-95</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">must be adapted to average mind, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">preliminary, <a href="#Page_74">74-87</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">uncertainty in, <a href="#Page_1">1-10</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">written work in, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>.</li> - - <li>Technique, instruction in. <em>See</em> <a href="#Workmanship_literary">Workmanship, literary</a>.</li> - - <li>Tennyson, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Elaine</cite>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Merlin and Vivian</cite>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Princess</cite>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Revenge</cite>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>.</li> - - <li>Text, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">model, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>.</li> - - <li>Thoroughness, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.</li> - - <li>Titian, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>.</li> - - <li>Translating, effect of, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>.</li> - - <li><cite>Treasure Island</cite>, study of, <a href="#Page_152">152-159</a>.</li> - - <li>Truth in literature, <a href="#Page_112">112-114</a>.</li> - - - <li class="newletter"><cite>Vicar of Wakefield</cite>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.</li> - - <li>Vocabulary, growth of, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">Miss Litchfield's view, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">of Burke's <cite>Speech</cite>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">of <cite>Ivanhoe</cite>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">of <cite>Macbeth</cite>, <a href="#Page_165">165-171</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">of prose, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">of <cite>Sir Roger de Coverley</cite>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">of <cite>Treasure Island</cite>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">study of, <a href="#Page_76">76-79</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">to be learned first, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Footnote_110:1_6">110, n.</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">to be learned from reference-books, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> - - - <li class="newletter">Washington, George, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.</li> - - <li>Words, value of, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li> - - <li>Word-values, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>.</li> - - <li>Wordsworth, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem"><cite>Lesson for Fathers</cite>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</li> - - <li><a name="Workmanship_literary" id="Workmanship_literary"></a>Workmanship, literary, <a href="#Page_207">207-221</a>.</li> - - <li>Written work, <a href="#Page_126">126-130</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">comparison in, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">description in, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">in study of <cite>Macbeth</cite>, <a href="#Page_187">187-191</a>;</li> - <li class="listsubitem">supreme test in, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>.</li> -</ul> - - - -<hr class="newchapter" /> -<p><!-- Page 248 --><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span></p> - -<p class="sectctr">The Riverside Press</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Electrotyped and printed by H. O. Houghton & Co.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><i>Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A.</i></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="newchapter" /> -</div> -<div class="notebox"> -<p class="tnhead">TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:</p> - -<p>Variations in spelling and hyphenation remain as in the original. -Ellipses match the original.</p> - -<p>Pages ii, vi, viii, and 244 are blank in the original.</p> - -<p>The following corrections have been made to the original text:</p> - -<div class="tnblock"> -<p>Page 165: XIII[original has "XII"]</p> - -<p>Page 174: gnaw till the ship springs a leak[original has -"aleak"]</p> - -<p>Page 245, under "Examinations": best prepared for by broad -teaching, 122;[original has a comma]</p> - -<p>Page 247: Teaching of literature, aim of, 11-27, -69-70,[original has a semi-colon] 236</p> -</div> -</div> - - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Talks on Teaching Literature, by Arlo Bates - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALKS ON TEACHING LITERATURE *** - -***** This file should be named 50082-h.htm or 50082-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/0/8/50082/ - -Produced by Shaun Pinder, Lisa Reigel, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Talks on Teaching Literature - -Author: Arlo Bates - -Release Date: September 30, 2015 [EBook #50082] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALKS ON TEACHING LITERATURE *** - - - - -Produced by Shaun Pinder, Lisa Reigel, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: Words in italics in the original are surrounded by -_underscores_. A row of asterisks represents a thought break. Ellipses -match the original. A complete list of corrections as well as other -notes follows the text. - - - - - TALKS ON TEACHING - LITERATURE - - BY - - ARLO BATES - - [Illustration: Riverside Press colophon] - - - BOSTON AND NEW YORK - HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY - The Riverside Press, Cambridge - 1906 - - - - - COPYRIGHT 1906 BY ARLO BATES - - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - - _Published October 1906_ - - - - -These Talks are founded upon lectures delivered before the Summer -School of the University of Illinois in June, 1905. The interest which -was shown in the subject and in the views expressed encouraged me to -state rather more elaborately and in book form what I felt in regard to -a matter which is certainly of great importance, and concerning which -so many teachers are in doubt. I wish here to express my obligation to -Assistant-Professor Henry G. Pearson, who has very kindly gone over the -manuscript, and to whom I am indebted for suggestions of great value. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - I. THE PROBLEM 1 - - II. THE CONDITIONS 11 - - III. SOME DIFFICULTIES 28 - - IV. OTHER OBSTACLES 39 - - V. FOUNDATIONS OF WORK 61 - - VI. PRELIMINARY WORK 74 - - VII. THE INSPIRATIONAL USE OF LITERATURE 88 - - VIII. AN ILLUSTRATION 96 - - IX. EDUCATIONAL 109 - - X. EXAMINATIONAL 121 - - XI. THE STUDY OF PROSE 136 - - XII. THE STUDY OF THE NOVEL 152 - - XIII. THE STUDY OF _MACBETH_ 165 - - XIV. CRITICISM 193 - - XV. LITERARY WORKMANSHIP 207 - - XVI. LITERARY BIOGRAPHY 222 - - XVII. VOLUNTARY READING 227 - - XVIII. IN GENERAL 237 - - INDEX 245 - - - - - TALKS ON TEACHING - LITERATURE - - - - -I - -THE PROBLEM - - -Few earnest teachers of literature have escaped those black moments -when it seems perfectly evident that the one thing sure in connection -with the whole business is that literature cannot be taught. If they -are of sensitive conscience they are likely to have wondered at times -whether it is honest to go on pretending to give instruction in a -branch in which instruction was so obviously impossible. The more -they consider, the more evident it is that if a pupil really learns -anything _in_ literature,—as distinguished from learning _about_ -literature,—he does it himself; and they cannot fail to see that as -an art literature necessarily partakes of the nature of all art, the -quality of being inexpressible and unexplainable in any language except -its own. - -The root of whatever difficulty exists in fulfilling the requirements -of modern courses of training which have to do with literature is just -this fact. Any art, as has been said often and often, exists simply and -solely because it embodies and conveys what can be adequately expressed -in no other form. A picture or a melody, a statue or a poem, gives -delight and inspiration by qualities which could belong to nothing -else. To teach painting or music or literature is at best to talk about -these qualities. Words cannot express what the work or art expresses, -or the work itself would be superfluous; and the teacher of literature -is therefore apparently confronted with the task of endeavoring to -impart what language itself cannot say. - -So stated the proposition seems self-contradictory and absurd. Indeed -it too often happens that in actual practice it is so. Teachers weary -their very souls in necessarily fruitless endeavors to achieve the -impossible, and fail in their work because they have not clearly -apprehended what they could effect and what they should endeavor to -effect. In any instruction it is of great importance to recognize -natural and inevitable limitations, and nowhere is this more true than -in any teaching which has to do with the fine arts. In other branches -failure to perceive the natural restrictions of the subject limits the -efficiency of the teacher; in the arts it not only utterly vitiates all -work, but it gives students a fundamentally wrong conception of the -very nature of that with which they are dealing. - -In most studies the teacher has to do chiefly with the understanding, -or, to put it more exactly, with the intellect of the pupil. In dealing -with literature he must reckon constantly with the emotions also. If -he cannot arouse the feelings and the imaginations of his students, -he does not succeed in his work. Not only is this difficult in itself, -but it calls for an emotional condition in the instructor which is -not easily combined with the didactic mood required by teaching; a -condition, moreover, which begets a sensitiveness to results much -more keen than any disappointment likely to be excited by failure to -carry a class triumphantly through a lesson in arithmetic or history. -This sensitiveness constantly brings discouragement, and this in turn -leads to renewed failure. In work which requires the happiest mood -on the part of the teacher and the freest play of the imagination, -the consciousness of any lack of success increases the difficulty a -hundredfold. The teacher who is able by sheer force of determination to -manage the stupidities of a dull algebra class, may fail signally in -the attempt to make the same force carry him through an unappreciated -exercise in "Macbeth." It is true that no teaching is effective unless -the interest as well as the attention of the pupils is enlisted; -but whereas in other branches this is a condition, in the case of -literature it is a prime essential. - -The teaching of literature, moreover, is less than useless if it is -not educational as distinguished from examinational. It is greatly to -be regretted that necessity compels the holding of examinations at -all in a subject of which the worth is to be measured strictly by the -extent to which it inspires the imagination and develops the character -of the student. Any system of examinations is likely to be at best a -makeshift made inevitable by existing conditions, and it is rendered -tolerable only where teachers—often at the expense, under present -school methods, of a stress of body and of soul to be appreciated -only by those who have taught—are able to mingle a certain amount of -education with the grinding drill of routine work. Examination papers -hardly touch and can hardly show the results of literary training which -are the only excuse for the presence of this branch in the school -curriculum. Every faithful worker who is trying to do what is best for -the children while fulfilling the requirements of the official powers -above him is face to face with the fact that the tabulated returns of -intermediates and finals do not in the least represent his best or most -laboriously achieved success. - -Under these conditions it is not strange that so many teachers are at a -loss to know what they are expected to do or what they should attempt -to do. If the teachers in the secondary schools of this country were -brought together into some Palace of Truth where absolute honesty was -forced upon them, it would be interesting and perhaps saddening to -find how few could confidently assert that they have clear and logical -ideas in regard to the teaching of literature. They would all be able -to say that they dealt with certain specified books because such work -is a prominent part of the school requirement; and many would, unless -restrained by the truth-compelling power of their environment, add -vague phrases about broadening the minds of the children. A pitiful -number would be forced to confess that they had no clear conception of -what they were to do beyond loading up the memories of the luckless -young folk with certain dead information about books to be unloaded at -the next examination, and there left forever. Too often "broadening the -mind" of the young is simple flattening it out by the dead weight of -lifeless and worthless fact. - -This uncertainty in regard to what they are to do and how they are -to do it is constantly evident in the complaints and inquiries of -teachers. "How would you teach 'Macbeth'?" one asked me. "Do you think -the sources of the plot should be thoroughly mastered?" Another wrote -me that she had always tried to make the moral lesson of "Silas Marner" -as clear and strong as possible, but that one of her boys had called -her attention to the fact that no question on such a matter had ever -appeared in the college entrance examination papers, and that she did -not know what to do. A third said frankly that she could never see -what there was in literature to teach, so she just took the questions -suggested by a text-book and confined her attention to them. If these -seem extreme cases, it is chiefly because they are put into words. -Certainly the number of instructors who are virtually in the position -of the third teacher is by no means small. - -Even the editors of "school classics" are sometimes found to be no more -enlightened than those they profess to aid, and not infrequently seem -more anxious to have the appearance of doing a scholarly piece of work -than one fitted for actual use. The devices they recommend for fixing -the attention and enlightening the darkness of children in literary -study are numerous; but not infrequently they are either ludicrous or -pathetic. A striking example is that conspicuously futile method, the -use of symbolic diagrams. The attempt to represent the poetry, the -pathos, the passion of "The Merchant of Venice" or "Romeo and Juliet" -by a diagram like a proposition in geometry seems to me not only the -height of absurdity, but not a little profane. I have examined these -cryptic combinations of lines, tangents, triangles, and circles, -with more bewilderment than comprehension, I confess; generally with -irritation; and always with the profound conviction that they could -hardly be surpassed as a means of producing confusion worse confounded -in the mind of any child whatever. Other schemes are only less wild, -and while excellent and helpful text-books are not wanting, not a -few show evidence that the writers were as little sure of what they -were trying to effect, or of how it were best effected, as the most -bewildered teacher who might unadvisedly come to them for enlightenment. - -Instruction in literature as it exists to-day in the common schools of -this country is almost always painstaking and conscientious; but it is -by no means always intelligent. The teachers who resort to diagrams are -sincerely in earnest, and no less faithful are those who at the expense -of most exhausting labor are dragging classes through the morass of -questions suggested by the least desirable of school editions of -college requirements. They dose their pupils with notes as Mrs. Squeers -dosed the poor wretches at Dotheboys Hall with brimstone and treacle. -The result is much the same in both cases. - - "Oh! Nonsense," rejoined Mrs. Squeers. . . . "They have - brimstone and treacle, partly because if they hadn't something - or other in the way of medicine they'd be always . . . giving a - world of trouble, and partly because it spoils their appetites, - and comes cheaper than breakfast and dinner." - -Certainly any child, no matter how great his natural appetite for -literature, must find the desire greatly diminished after a dose of -text-book notes. - -The difficulties of teachers in handling this branch of instruction -have been increased by the system under which work must be carried -on. The tremendous problem of educating children in masses has yet -to be solved, and it is at least doubtful if it can be worked out -successfully without a very substantial diminution of the requirements -now insisted upon. Certainly it is hardly conceivable that with the -curriculum as crowded as it is at present any teacher could do much -in the common schools with the teaching of literature. The pedagogic -committees who have fixed the college entrance requirements, moreover, -seem to have acted largely along conventional lines. In the third -place the spirit of the time is out of sympathy with art, and the -variety and insistence of outside calls on the attention and interest -of the children make demands so great as to leave the mind dull to -finer impressions. To the boy eager over football, the circus, and -the automobile race he is to see when school is out, even an inspired -teacher may talk in vain about Dr. Primrose, Lady Macbeth, or any other -of the immortals. Ears accustomed to the strident measures of the -modern street-song are not easily beguiled by the music of Milton, and -yet the teacher of to-day is expected to persuade his flock that they -should prefer "L'Allegro" to the vulgar but rollicking "rag-time" comic -songs of dime-museum and alley. Under circumstances so adverse, it is -not to be wondered at that teachers are not only discouraged but often -bewildered. - -What happens in many cases is sufficiently well shown by this extract -from a freshman composition, in which the writer frankly gives an -account of his training in English literature in a high school not -twenty-five miles from Boston: - - Very special attention was paid to the instruction of the - classics as to what the examinations require. As closely as - possible the faculty determine the scope of the examinations, - and the class is drilled in that work especially. Examination - papers are procured for several years back, and are given - to the students as regular high school examinations, and - as samples of the kind of questions to be expected. The - instructors notice especial questions that are often repeated - in examination papers, warn the pupils of them, and even go so - far as to estimate when the question will be used again. I have - heard in the classroom, "This question was given three years - ago, and it is about due again. They ask it every three or four - years." - -Another boy wrote, in the same set of themes, that he had taken the -examination in the autumn, and added: - - On the June examinations I noticed that there was nothing about - Milton, so I studied Milton with heart and soul. - -Here we find stated plainly what everybody connected with teaching -knows to be common, and indeed what under the present system is almost -inevitable. I know of many schools of no inconsiderable standing where -in all branches old examination papers, if not used as the text-books, -are at least the actual guide to all work done in the last year of -fitting for college. This is perhaps only human, and it is easy to -understand; but it certainly is not education, and of that fact both -students and teachers are entirely well aware. All this I say with -no intention of blaming anybody for what is the result of difficult -conditions. It is not well, however, to ignore what is perfectly well -known, and what is one of the important difficulties of the situation. - -The problem, then, which confronts the teacher in the secondary school -is twofold. He has to decide in the first place what the teaching of -literature can and should legitimately accomplish, and in the second, -by what means this may most surely and effectively be done. In a word, -although work in this line has been going on multitudinously and -confusedly for years, we are yet far from sufficiently definite ideas -why and how literature should be taught to children. - - - - -II - -THE CONDITIONS - - -The inclusion of literature in the list of common school studies, -however the original intent may have been lost sight of, was -undoubtedly made in the interest of general culture. It is not certain -that those who put it in had definite conceptions of methods or -results, but unquestionably their idea was to aid the development of -the children's minds by helping them to appreciate and to assimilate -thoughts of nobility and of beauty, and by fostering a love for -literature which should lead them to go on acquiring these from the -masterpieces. How clear and well defined in the minds of educators -this idea was it is needless to inquire. It is enough that it was -undoubtedly sincere, and that it was founded on a genuine faith in the -broadening and elevating influence of art. - -The importance of literature as a means of mental development used to -be taken for granted. Our fathers and grandfathers had for the classics -a reverence which the rising generation looks back to as a phase of -antiquated superstition, hardly more reasonable than the worship of -sacred wells or a belief in goblins. So much stress is now laid -upon the tangible and the material as the only genuine values, that -everything less obvious is discredited. The tendency is to take only -direct results into consideration; and influences which serve rather to -elevate character than to aid in money-getting are at best looked upon -with toleration. - -That sense of mankind, however, which depends upon the perception of -the few, and which in the long run forms the opinion of society in -spite of everything, holds still to the importance of literature in any -intelligent scheme of education. The popular disbelief makes enormously -difficult the work of the teacher, but the force of the conviction -of the wise minority keeps this branch in the schools. The sincere -teacher, therefore, naturally tries to analyze effects, and to discern -possibilities, in order to discover upon what facts the belief in the -educational value of the study of literature properly rests. - -The most obvious reasons for the study of literature may be quickly -disposed of. It is well for a student to be reasonably familiar with -the history of literature, with the names and periods of great writers. -This adds to his chances of appearing to advantage in the world, -and especially in that portion of society where he can least afford -to be at a disadvantage. He is provided with facts about books and -authors quite as much to protect him from the ill effects of appearing -ignorant as for any direct influence this knowledge will have on his -mind. Whatever the tendency of the times to undervalue in daily -life acquaintance with the more refined side of human knowledge, the -fact remains that to betray ignorance in these lines may bring real -harm to a person's social standing. Every one recognizes that among -educated people a lad is better able to make his way if he does not -confound the age of Shakespeare with that of Browning, and if he is -able to distinguish between Edmund Spenser and Herbert Spencer. Such -information may not be specially vital, but it is worth possessing. - -Considerations of this sort, however, are evidently not of weight -enough to account for the place of the study in the schools, and still -less to excuse the amount of time and attention bestowed upon it. The -same line of reasoning would defend the introduction of dancing, because - - Those move easiest who have learned to dance. - -More important and more far-reaching reasons must be found to satisfy -the teacher, and to hearten him for the severe labor of working with -class after class in the effort, not always successful, of arousing -interest and enthusiasm over the writings which go by the name of -English Classics. Some of these I may specify briefly. To deal with -them exhaustively would take a book in itself, and would leave no room -for the consideration of methods. - -A careful and intelligent study of masterpieces of prose or verse, -the teacher soon perceives, must develop greatly the student's sense -of the value of words. This is not the highest function of this work, -but it is by no means one to be despised. Literary study affords -opportunities for training of this sort which are not to be found -elsewhere; and a sensitiveness to word-values is with a child the -beginning of wisdom. - -Children too often acquire and adults follow the habit of accepting -words instead of ideas. A genuine appreciation of the worth of language -is after all the chief outward sign of the distinction between the wise -man and the dullard. One is content to receive speech as sterling coin, -and the other perceives that words are but counters. If students could -but appreciate the difference between apprehending and comprehending -what they are taught, between learning words and assimilating ideas, -the intellectual millennium would be at hand. Children need to learn -that the sentence is after all only the envelope, only the vehicle for -the thought. Everybody agrees to this theoretically, but practically -the fact is generally ignored. The child is father to the man in -nothing else more surely than in the trait of accepting in perfect good -faith empty words as complete and satisfactory in themselves. The habit -of being content with phrases once bred into a child can be eradicated -by nothing short of severe intellectual surgery. - -To say that words are received as sufficient in themselves and not as -conveying ideas sounds like a paradox; but there are few of us who -may not at once make a personal application and find an illustration -in the common phrases and formulas of our life. Perhaps none of us -are free from the fault of sometimes substituting empty phrases for -vital rules of conduct. The most simple and the most tremendous -facts of human life are often known only as lifeless statements -rather than realized as vibrant truths. With children the language -of text-book or classroom is so likely to be repeated by rote and -remembered mechanically that constant vigilance on the part of the -teacher can hardly overcome the evil. Force the boy who on the college -entrance examination paper writes fluently that "Milton is the poet -of sublimity" to try to define, even to himself, what the statement -means, and the result is confusion. He meant nothing. He had the words, -but they had never conveyed to him a thought. Language should be the -servant of the mind, but never was servant that so constantly and so -successfully usurped the place of master. - -Children must be taught, and taught not simply by precept but by -experience, to realize that the value of the word lies solely in its -efficiency as a vehicle of thought. They must learn to appreciate as -well as to know mechanically that language is to be estimated by its -effect in communicating the idea, and that to be satisfied with words -for themselves is obvious folly. For enforcing this fact literature is -especially valuable. It is hardly possible in even the most superficial -work on a play of Shakespeare, for instance, for the reader to fail -to perceive how the idea burns through the word, how wide is the -difference between the mere apprehension of the language and the -comprehension of the poet's meaning. In the study of great poetry the -impossibility of resting satisfied with anything short of the ideas is -so strongly brought out that it cannot be ignored or forgotten; and in -this way pupils are impressed with the value of words. - -This sensitiveness to the value of words in general is closely coupled -with an appreciation of the force of words in particular, of what may -be called word-values. The power of appreciating that a word is merely -a messenger bringing an idea, is naturally connected with the ability -to distinguish with exactness the nature and the value of the thought -which the messenger presents. To feel the need of knowing clearly and -surely the thought expressed inevitably leads to precision and delicacy -in distinguishing the significance and force of language. When once a -child appreciates the difference between the accepting of what he reads -vaguely or mechanically and the getting from it its full meaning, he -is eager to have it all; he finds delight in the intellectual exercise -of searching out each hidden suggestion and in the sense of possession -which belongs to achieving the thought of the master. It is not to be -expected that our pupils shall be able to receive in its full richness -the deepest thought of the poets, but they none the less find delight -in possessing it to the extent of their abilities. The point is too -obvious to need expansion; but every instructor will recognize its -great importance. - -Obvious as is this importance of the sense of the value of words and -a sensitiveness to word-values, it is not infrequently overlooked. -Teachers see the need of a knowledge of the meaning of terms and -phrases in a particular selection without stopping to think of the -prime value of the principle involved, or indeed that a general -principle is involved at all. Still more often they fail to perceive -all that logically follows. In exact, vital realization of the full -force of language lies the secret of sharing the wisdom of the ages. If -students can be trained to penetrate through the word of the printed -page to the thought, they are brought into communication with the -master-minds of the race. It is not learning to read in the common, -primary acceptation of the term that opens for the young the thought -of the race; but learning to read in the higher and deeper sense of -receiving the word only as a symbol behind and beyond which the thought -lies concealed from the ordinary and superficial reader. - -Most of all is it the business of the young to learn about life. -Whatever does not tend, directly or indirectly, to make the child -better acquainted with the world he has come into, with how he must -and how he should bear himself under its complex conditions, is of -small value as far as education goes. Of rules for conduct he is given -plenty as to matters of morality and of religion. Moral laws and -religious precepts are good, and could they accomplish all that is -sometimes expected of them, life would quickly be a different matter, -and teachers would find themselves living in an earthly paradise. -Unhappily these excellent maxims effect in actual life far less than -is to be desired. Not infrequently the urchin who has been stuffed -with moral admonitions as a doll with sawdust shows in his conduct -no regard for them other than a fine zeal in scorning them. Children -are seldom much affected by explicit directions in regard to conduct. -They must be reached by indirection, and they are moulded less by what -they recognize as intentionally wise views of life than by those which -they receive unconsciously. The more just these unrecognized ideas -of themselves and of the world are, the greater is the chance that -they will develop a character well balanced and well adjusted to the -conditions of human life. - -Children live in a world largely made up of half-perceptions, of -misunderstandings, and of dreams; a world pathetically full of guesses. -They must depend largely upon appearances, and constantly confound -what seems with what really is. They learn but slowly, however, to -shape their beliefs or their emotions by conventionality. They do not -easily acquire the vice of accepting shams because some authority has -endorsed these. All of us are likely to have had queerly uncomfortable -moments when we have found ourselves confounded and reproved by -the unflinching honesty of the child; and we have been forced to -confess, at least to ourselves, that much of our admiration is mere -affectation, many of our professions unadulterated truckling to some -authority in which after all we have little real faith. Children are -naturally too unsophisticated for self-deception of this sort. They -confound substance and shadow, but they do it in good faith and with -no affectations. They are therefore at the place where they most need -sound and sure help to apprehend and to comprehend those things which -their elders call the realities of life. - -What human nature and human life are like is learned most quickly -and most surely from the best literature. The outward, the evident -conditions of society and of humanity may perhaps be best obtained by -children from the events of every-day existence; but in all that goes -deeper the wisdom of great writers is the surest guide. - -On the face of it such a proposition may not seem self-evident, -and to not a few teachers it is likely to appear a little absurd. -Children, it is evident, learn the realities of life by living. They -perceive physical truth by the persuasive force of actual experience: -by tumbling down and bumping their precious noses; by unmistakably -impressive contact with the fist of a pugnacious school-fellow; by -being hungry or uncomfortably stuffed with Thanksgiving turkey; by -heat and by cold, by sweets or by sours, by hardness or by softness. -Certainly through such means as these the child gains knowledge and -develops mentally; but the process is inevitably slow. Most of all -is the growth in the youthful mind of general deductions and the -perception of underlying principles extremely gradual. He does not -learn quickly enough that certain lines of conduct are likely to lead -to unfortunate ends. Even when this is grasped, he has not come to -appreciate what human laws underlie the whole matter; nor is he in the -least likely to realize them so fully as to shape by them his conduct -in the steadily more and more complicated affairs of life. - -The small boy learns the wisdom of moderation from the stomach-ache -which follows too much plum-pudding or too many green apples—if the -pain is often enough repeated. The matter, however, is apt to present -itself to his mind as a sort of tacit bargain between himself and Fate: -so many green apples, so much stomach-ache; so much self-indulgence and -so much pain, and the account is balanced. Life is not so simple as -this; and that Fate does not make bargains so direct is learned from -experience so gradually as often to be learned too late. To tell this -to a child is of very little effect; for even if he believes it with -his childish intelligence, he can hardly feel the intimate links which -bind all humanity together, and make him subject to the same conditions -that rule his elders and instructors. - -The phrase "realities of life," moreover, includes not only -sensible—that is, material—facts and conditions, but the more subtle -things of inner existence. A hundred persons are able to gather facts, -while very few are capable of drawing from them adequate conclusions -or of perceiving how one truth bears upon another. A very moderate -degree of intelligence is required for analysis as compared to that -necessary for synthesis. The power "to put two and two together," as -the common phrase has it, grows slowly in the mind of a child. Within -a limited range children appreciate that one fact is somehow joined to -another; and indeed the education which life gives consists chiefly in -expanding this perception. The connection between touching a hot coal -and being burned brings home the plain physical relations early. The -connection between disobedience and unpleasant consequences will be -borne in upon the youthful consciousness according to the sharpness -of discipline by which it is enforced; and so on to the end of the -chapter. To perceive a relation and to appreciate what that relation -is are, however, different matters. The understanding of the nature -of breaking rules and suffering in consequence involves a perception -of underlying principle, and some comprehension of the real nature of -these principles. - -The part which literature may play in giving children, and for that -matter their elders, a vivid perception of moral laws is shown by the -use which has been made of fables and moral tales. The parables of -Scripture illustrate the point. Of the habit of making literature -directly a vehicle for moral instruction by the drawing of morals I -shall have something to say later; but the extent to which this has -been done at least serves here to make clearer what we mean by saying -that in this study the child learns general principles and their -relation. The small child, for instance, who is told in tender years -that ingeniously virtuous fable which relates the heroic doings of -little George Washington and his immortal hatchet, gets some idea of a -connection between virtue and joy in the abstract. A notion faint, but -none the less genuine, remains in his mind that some real connection -exists between truth and desirability; and the same sort of thing holds -true in cases where the teaching is less directly didactic. - -The directly didactic is likely to be most in evidence in the training -of children, and so affords convenient illustration of the illuminating -effect of literature on young minds. Despite the fact that I disbelieve -in reading into any tale or poem a moral which is not expressly put -there by the author, and that I hold more strongly yet to the belief -that the most marked and most lasting effects of imaginative work are -indirect, I am not without a perception of the value at a certain stage -of human development of the direct moral of the fable and the improving -tale. A small lad of ten within the range of my observation, upon whom -had been lavished an abundance, and perhaps even a superabundance, of -moral precept, astonished and disconcerted his mother by remarking -with delightful naïveté that he had at school been reading "The Little -Merchant," in Miss Edgeworth's "Parents' Assistant," and that from it -he had learned how mean and foolish it is to lie. "But, my dear boy," -the mother cried in dismay, "I've been telling you that ever since -you were born!" "Oh, well," responded the lad, with the unconsciously -brutal frankness of his years, "but that never interested me." The -obvious moral teaching that had made no impression when offered as a -bare precept had been effective to him when presented as an appeal to -his feeling. - -Through imaginative literature abstract truths are made to have for -the child a reality which is given to them by the experiences of daily -life only by the slowest of degrees. Children rarely generalize, -except in matters of personal feeling and in the regions of general -misapprehension. A child easily receives the fact of the moment for a -truth of all time: if he is miserable, for instance, he is very apt to -feel that he must always be in that doleful condition; but this is in -no real sense a generalization. It is more than half self-deception. -Any child, however, who has been thrilled by a single line of -imaginative poetry has—even if unconsciously—come into direct touch -with a wide and humanly universal truth. - -Especially and essentially is this to be said of truth which has to do -with human feeling, the universal truth of the emotions. The man or -the woman into whom the school-boy or girl is to grow will in shaping -life be guided chiefly by the feelings. Whether the ordinary mortal -lives well or ill, basely or nobly, dully or vividly, is practically -determined by what he feels. However much the convictions have to do -in ordering conduct, feeling has more, and conviction itself is with -most mortals inseparably bound up with the emotions. The highest office -of education is to develop the emotions highly and nobly; and it is no -less essential to the intellectual than to the moral well-being of the -child that he be bred to feel as deeply and as wholesomely as possible. -Every teacher knows that in dealing with children the ultimate appeal -is to their feelings. If a crisis arises in school-life it is to the -emotions that the matter is inevitably referred, whether the instructor -likes this or not, and whether the appeal is made openly or is indirect -and tacit. Teaching must deal with the sentiments as well as with the -understanding. That no other means of training and properly developing -the feelings of youth is so efficient as literature seems to me a -proposition too self-evident to need further comment. - -Enthusiasm is so closely connected with the cultivation and training -of the emotions that it is not easy to draw a line between them. While -there is certainly no need to enlarge here upon the worth of enthusiasm -in education or in life, or upon literature as a means of arousing it, -it is worth while to emphasize the extent to which the mind of youth -may be affected by enthusiasm. The effects are naturally often so -indirect or intangible as not to be easily measured, but often, too, -they are direct and practical. Some years ago in a country school in -eastern Maine was still paramount the old-time Greenleaf's "Arithmetic" -which we elders remember with mixed feelings. The law of education -in those days, when children were still expected to do things which -were mapped out for them and to follow a course of study whether it -chanced to please their individual fancy or not, enforced the mastering -of everything in the text-book, even to sundry weird processes with -queer names such as "Alligation Alternate" and the like. The teacher -of this particular school, a plucky morsel of New England womanhood, -not much bigger than a chickadee, set herself resolutely to carry -through the arithmetic a class of farmer lads, better at the plow than -in mathematics. What happened she told me twenty-five years ago, and -I am still able to call up the vision of the air half of defiance, -half of amusement with which she said: "The boys were in a perfectly -hopeless muddle. I had explained and explained, until I wished I could -either cry like a woman or be a man and swear! The third day I had -an inspiration. In the very middle of the recitation, I told them to -shut up their books, and I cleaned every mark of the lesson off of -the blackboard. Then without a word of explanation I began to tell -them a little about the pamphlet Sir Walter Raleigh wrote about the -'Revenge;' and then I began to recite Tennyson's ballad—which was new -then. I was wrought up to the very top-notch anyway, and I just gave -that ballad for all there was in me. They were dazed a minute, and -then they pricked up their ears, their eyes began to shine, and I had -them. We kindled each other, and by the time I got through the tears -were running down my cheeks for simple excitement. When I got to the -end, you could just feel the hush. Then I told them to go outdoors and -snow-ball for ten minutes, and then to come in and conquer that lesson. -They were great, rough farmer boys, you understand; but the moment they -were outside, they gave a cheer, just to express things they couldn't -have put into words. When they came in they were alive to the ends of -their fingers, and we went over that old Alligation with a perfect -rush." This sort of thing would not be possible anywhere outside of the -old-fashioned country school, but it is a capital illustration of the -way in which poetry may stir the enthusiasm. - -More valuable still, because at once deeper and most lasting, is the -effect of literature in nourishing imagination. The real progress which -children make in education—the assimilation of the knowledge which -they receive—depends largely upon this power. In many branches of -study this is easily evident. What a child actually knows of geography -or of history obviously depends upon the extent to which his mind is -able to make real places or events remote in space or in time. The -same is true of those studies where the fact is not so evident; and it -is hardly too much to say that the advance of any student in higher -education is measured by the development of his imagination. - -The teacher of literature in the secondary schools, then, is to -consider that although his work is primarily done as a part of the -school requirement, he need not be without some clear and deliberate -intention in regard to the permanent effect upon the education and -so upon the character of the pupil. He may treat the getting of his -charges through the examinations as a purely secondary matter; a -matter, moreover, which is practically sure to be accomplished if the -greater and better purposes of the study have been secured. Besides a -general knowledge of literary history, the student should gain from -his training in the secondary school a vivid sense of the importance -and value of words; an appreciation of word-values as shown in actual -use by the masters; should increase in knowledge of life, and as it -were gain experience vicariously, so as to advance in perception of -intellectual and moral values; should be advanced in the control of -the feelings; in enthusiasm; and in the development of that noblest of -faculties, the imagination. - - - - -III - -SOME DIFFICULTIES - - -To deal clearly with the work of teaching, it is first of all essential -to deal frankly. In order that suggestions in regard to instruction -in literature may be of practical value, we must be entirely honest -in admitting and in facing whatever difficulties lie in the way and -whatever limitations are imposed by the conditions under which the work -is done. - -As things are at present arranged, an instructor, it seems not unjust -to say, must decide how far he is able to mingle genuine education with -the routine work which the system imposes upon him. If he has not the -power to settle this question, or if he is lacking in the disposition -to propose the question to himself, his labor is inevitably confined -chiefly to routine. His students are turned out examination-perfect, -it may be, but with minds as fatally cramped and checked as the feet -of a Chinese lady. If literature has a high and important function in -education, the teacher must consider deeply both what that function is -and how he is best to develop it. - -The failure on the part of instructors to do this makes much of the -work done in the secondary grades so mechanical as to be of the -smallest possible use so far as the expansion of the mind and of -the character of children is concerned. For a pupil in the lower -grades the first purpose of any and of all school-work should be -to teach him to use his mind,—to think. The actual acquirement of -facts is of importance really slight as compared to the value of -this. If at twelve he knows how to read and to write, is sound on the -multiplication-table, is familiar with the outlines of grammar and the -broadest divisions of geography, yet is accustomed to think for himself -in regard to the facts which he perceives from life or receives from -books, he may be regarded as admirably well on in the education which -he is to gain from the schools. Indeed, if he have learned to think, -he is excellently started even if he have accomplished nothing further -than simply to read and to write. - -In these years of child-life the study of literature can legitimately -have but two objects: it may and should minister to the delight of -youth, that so the taste for good books be fostered and as it were -inbred; and it should nourish the power of thinking. Whatever is beyond -this has no place in the lower grades, and personally I am entirely -free to say that much that is now called "the study of literature" is -the sort of elaborate work which belongs in the college or nowhere. -Few students are qualified to "study"—as the term is commonly -interpreted—literature until they are advanced further than the boys -and girls admitted to our high schools; further, indeed, than many who -are allowed to enter the universities. The great majority of those who -grind laboriously through the college entrance requirements in English -are utterly unequal to the work and get from it little of value and a -good deal of harm. - -What should be done in the lower grades, and usually all that can -with profit be attempted in the secondary schools anywhere, is to -cultivate in the children a love of literature and some appreciation -of it: appreciation intelligent, I mean, but not analytic. I would -have the secondary schools do little with the history of authors, -less with the criticism of style, and have no more explanation of -difficulties of language and of structure than is necessary for the -student's enjoyment. In a time when the draughts made by daily life -upon the attention of the young are so tremendous, when the pressure -of the more immediately practical branches of instruction is so great, -to add drudgery in connection with literature seems to me completely -futile and doubly wrong. The supreme test of success in whatever work -in literature is done in schools of the secondary grades should be, -according to my conviction, whether it has given delight, has fostered -a love of whatever is best in imaginative writings and in life. - -The natural abilities of children differ widely, and perhaps more -difference still is made by the home influences in which they pass -their earliest years. What should be done in the nursery can never be -fully made up in the school, and what should be breathed in from an -atmosphere of cultivation can never be imparted by instruction. It is -manifestly impossible to interest all in the artistic side of life to -the same extent, just as it is idle to hope to teach all to draw with -equal skill. This does not alter the direction of effort. The teacher -must recognize and accept natural limitations, but not on that account -be satisfied with aiming at less admirable results. - -Whatever are the conditions, it is possible to do something to -foster a love of what is really good in literature, and to avoid the -substitution of formal drill in the history of authors, the study of -conundrums concerning the sources of plots, the meaning of obsolete -words, and like pedantic pedagogics, for the friendly and vital study -of what should be a warm, live topic. If young folk can be made really -to care for good books, not only is substantial and lasting good -gained, but most that is now attempted is more surely secured. William -Blake declares that the truth can never be told so as to be understood -and not be believed. In the same way it may be said that if children -can be trained to recognize the characteristics of good literature, -they are sure, in nine cases out of ten at least, to care for it. - -This is the work which properly belongs to the secondary schools; and -it is quite as much as they can be expected to do even up to the close -of the high school course. I am personally unable to see what good -is accomplished by taking any body of school-children that ever came -under my own observation,—and the question must be judged by personal -experience,—and drilling them in such matters as the following. I have -taken these notes almost at random from approved school editions of the -classics, and they seem to me to be fairly representative. - - Some striking resemblances in the incantation scenes in - "Macbeth" and Middleton's "Witch" have led to a somewhat - generally accepted belief that Thomas Middleton was answerable - for the alleged un-Shakespearean portions of "Macbeth." - - * * * * * - - Shakespeare's indebtedness in "Midsummer's Night's Dream" to - "Il Percone" admits of no dispute. - - The incident of a Jew whetting his knife like Shylock occurs in - a Latin play, "Machiavellus," performed at St. John's College, - Cambridge, at Christmas, 1597. - -The opening note in a popular edition of "Silas Marner" is a comment -upon this passage: - - The questionable sound of Silas's loom, so unlike the natural, - cheerful trotting of the winnowing-machine, or the simple - rhythm of the flail, had a half-fearful fascination for the - Raveloe boys. - -The note reads as follows: - - The hand-loom, once found in every village and hamlet, was - controlled by the action of the feet on the treadles, and - worked by the hands. A figure representing the parts may - be found in "Johnson's Cyclopædia." The longer article on - "Weaving" in the "Encyclopædia Britannica" may also be - consulted. The rattle of the loom was in direct contrast - to the "cheerful trotting" of the winnowing-machine—an - old-fashioned hand-machine for separating the chaff from the - grain by means of wind produced by revolving fans. The flail, - still in common use for threshing grain by hand, consists of a - wooden staff or handle, hung on a club called a swiple, so as - to turn easily. - -If the end of the study of fiction is the acquirement of dry facts, -this note may pass. I have purposely selected an example which is not -worse than the average, and which may perhaps be supposed to have an -excuse in the consideration that so many readers may be ignorant of all -the contrivances mentioned; but can any person with a sense of humor -suppose that a real boy is to get any proper enjoyment out of a story -when he is at the outset asked to consult a couple of cyclopædias, and -is interrupted in his reading by comments of this sort? The real point -of the passage, moreover,—the literary significance,—the fact that -the boys of Raveloe heard the winnowing-machine and threshing-flail -daily, and so were attracted by the novelty of Marner's weaving, with -the use of this by George Eliot to emphasize the weaver's isolation in -the neighborhood, is left utterly unnoticed. - -Were it worth while, I could give from text-books in general use -examples more unsatisfactory than these; but this is a fair sample of -the things which are administered to pupils in the name of literary -study. The students are not interested in these details; and I am -inclined to believe that most of the teachers who mistakenly feel -obliged to drill classes in them could not honestly say that they -themselves care a fig for such barren facts. It is no wonder that out -of the school course young folk so often get the notion that literature -is dull. In a recent entrance paper a boy wrote as follows: - - I could never understand why so much time has to be given in - school to old books just because they have been known a long - time. It would be better if we could have given the time to - something useful. - -He said what many boys feel, and what not a few of them have thought -out frankly to themselves, although perhaps few would express it so -squarely. If the study of literature means no more than is represented -by work on notes and the history of books and authors, I most fully -agree with him. - -Some of the books at present included in the college entrance -requirement, it must be added, lend themselves too much to -unintelligent pedantry. Undoubtedly much thought has been given to the -selection, although perhaps less sympathetic consideration of child -nature. The result is not in all cases satisfactory. To foster a taste -for poetry a teacher may, it is true, do much with "Julius Cæsar," -but I have yet to see the class of undergraduates with which I should -personally hope to arouse enthusiasm with "L'Allegro," "Il Penseroso," -"Lycidas," or "Comus." I may be simply confessing my own limitations, -but I should think all of these poems, magnificent in themselves, -hardly fitted for the boys and girls who are found in our public -schools. I have extracted from more than one teacher a confession of -entire inability to take pleasure in the Milton which they assure their -pupils is beautiful; and while this is an arraignment of instructors -rather than of the works, it is significant of the attitude the honest -minds of children are likely to take. - -By way of making things worse, scholars are drilled in Macaulay's -"Milton."[35:1] The inclusion of this essay, the product of the -author's 'prentice hand, is most lamentable. The philistinism of -Macaulay is here rampant; and the one thing which students are sure -to get from the essay is the conception that poetry is the product -of barbarism, to be outgrown and cast aside when civilization is -sufficiently advanced. Again and again in entrance examinations and -in second-year notebooks, I have found this idea expressed. It is not -only the one thing which survives out of the essay, but is often the -one conviction in regard to literature which has survived examinations -as the result of the study of the entire entrance requirement. In the -entrance paper of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology for last -year (1905), I had put a question in regard to the difference between -poetry and prose. From the replies I have taken a few of the many -echoes from the study of the "Milton." - - Macaulay claims that the uncivilized alone care for poetry. - - I agree with Macaulay that prose is the product of - civilization, . . . while poetry was the way the ancients - expressed themselves. - - Poetry is not being written nearly so much now as in the Dark - Ages, simply because men are learning to treat subjects in - classes. - - Macaulay says that the writer of a great poem must have a - certain unsoundness of mind, and Carlyle makes the statement - that to be a great poet a man must first be as a little child. - If these opinions are just, one would think poetry could not be - regarded as of a quality equal to prose works. - - Poetry came first in the lapse of time, and as people grew more - civilized, as their education grew higher, they wrote in prose. - -Obviously these extracts hardly do justice to the views of Macaulay, -but it is evidently absurd to try to interest pupils in poetry when -they are getting from one of the works selected "for careful study" the -idea that the poet is a semi-madman practicing one of the habits of a -half-civilized race![36:1] - -Fortunately much of the reading is better, although in effect the books -are sometimes limited by the difficulty of keeping the interest of -children up for the long poem. The inclusion in the list of "Elaine" -and "The Lady of the Lake" of course presupposes on the part of the -pupil familiarity in the lower grades with lyrics and brief narrative -poems; and in many cases this may be sufficient. Most pupils will be -sure to care for "The Ancient Mariner," many for "The Princess;" and -any wholesome boy, with ordinary intelligence, should be interested in -"Ivanhoe" and "Macbeth." - -As things stand, however, the teacher is forced to deal largely with -books which almost compel formal and pedantic treatment. Burke's -"Speech on Conciliation," admirable as it is in its place and way, -will hardly give to a young student an insight into literature or a -taste for imaginative work. The normal, average lad is likely, it -seems to me, to be bored by "Silas Marner," or at least very mildly -interested; and I confess frankly my inability to understand how -youthful enthusiasm is to be aroused or more than youthful tolerance -secured for Irving's "Life of Goldsmith" or Macaulay's "Life of -Johnson." Plenty of pupils are docile enough to allow themselves to be -led placidly through these works, and indeed to submit to any volume -imposed by school regulations; but what the teacher is endeavoring to -do is to convince the young readers that books entitled to the name -"literature" are really of more worth and interest than the newspaper, -the detective story, the sensational novel, or the dime-theatre song. -It is perhaps not possible to find among the English Classics works -well adapted to such use,—although I refuse to believe it,—but I do -at least feel that the present entrance-requirement list does not lend -itself readily, to say the least, to the task of the teacher who aims -at developing an intelligent and loving appreciation of literature. - -The list of obstacles which beset the way of a teacher of literature -might easily be lengthened; but these seem chief. They are -discouraging; but they exist. They must be faced and overcome, and -nothing is gained by ignoring them. The successful teacher, like the -successful general, is he who most clearly examines difficulties, and -best succeeds in devising means by which they may be vanquished. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[35:1] Since this was written this essay has been removed from the -list, but the effects of it are still with us, as it was used for all -classes entering college before 1906. I leave this comment, however, -because of its important bearing on a point which I wish to bring up -later. - -[36:1] See page 212. - - - - -IV - -OTHER OBSTACLES - - -The difficulties set down in the last chapter exist in the conditions -under which teachers must work. They should be recognized, to the end -that they may be as far as possible overcome. They can be done away -with only by the slow and gradual changing of public opinion and the -re-forming of pedagogic intelligence. For the present they are to be -reckoned with as inevitable limitations. - -Another class of obstacles to the ideal result of the teaching of -literature exists largely in the application of the modern system or in -the method of the individual teacher. These may to a great extent be -done away with by a proper understanding of conditions, a just estimate -of what may be accomplished, and a wise choice of the means of doing -this. Teachers must take things as they find them, but the ultimate -result of work depends to a great extent upon how they take them. If -they must often accept unfortunate conditions, they may at least reduce -to a minimum whatever is uneffective in their own method. - -The most serious defects which depend largely upon individual teaching -are four. The first is the danger, already alluded to, of teaching -children _about_ literature; the second is that of making too great a -demand upon the child; the third is the common habit of endeavoring to -reach the enthusiasm of the pupil through the reason, instead of aiming -at the reason through the enthusiasm; and the fourth is—to speak -boldly—the possible incapacity of the teacher for this particular work. - -The first of these is the most widespread. It is so natural to bring -forward facts concerning the history of writers and of books, it is -indeed so impossible to avoid this entirely; to induce students to -repeat glibly what some critic has written about authors and their -works is so easy, that this insensibly and almost inevitably tends -to make up the bulk of instruction. Every incompetent teacher takes -refuge in such formal drill. The history of literature is concrete; -it is easily tabulated; and it is naturally accepted by children as -being exactly in line with the work which properly belongs to other -studies with which they are acquainted. If a child is set to treat -literature just as he has treated history or mathematics, the process -will appeal to him as logical and easily to be mastered. He will find -no incongruity in applying the same method to "Macbeth" and to the list -of Presidents or to the multiplication-table; and however well or ill -he succeed in memorizing what is given him, he will feel the ease of -working in accustomed lines. Names and dates may be learned by rote, -old entrance-paper questions are tangible things, and thus examinations -come to mean annual offerings of childish brains. To teach literature -requires sympathy and imagination: the history of literature requires -only perseverance. Much that in school reports is set down as the study -of masterpieces is in reality only a mixture of courses in biography -and history, more or less spiced with gossip. - -The second danger, that of making too great a demand upon the child, -is one which, to some extent, besets all school work to-day, but which -seems to be especially great and especially disastrous in the case -of the study we are considering. Often the nature of the questions -asked shows one form of this demand in a way that is nothing less -than preposterous. Children in secondary schools are required to have -original ideas in regard to the character of Lady Macbeth; to define -the workings of the mind of Shylock; to produce personal opinions -in the discussion of the madness of Hamlet. Children whose highest -acquirements in English composition do not and cannot reach beyond the -plainest expository statement of simple facts and ideas, are coolly -requested to discriminate between the style of "Il Penseroso" and -that of "L'Allegro," and to show how each is adapted to the purpose -of the poet. If they were allowed to write from the point of view of -a child, the matter would be bad enough; but no teacher who sets such -a task would be satisfied with anything properly belonging to the -child-mind. It is probably safe to be tolerably certain that no teacher -ever gave out this sort of a question who could without cribbing from -the critics perform satisfactorily the task laid upon the unfortunate -children. - -I have before me a pamphlet entitled "Suggestions for Teachers of -English Classics in the High Schools." It is not a gracious task to -find fault with a fellow worker and a fellow writer in the same line in -which I am myself offering suggestions, and I therefore simply put it -to the common sense of teachers what the effect upon the average high -school pupil would be if he were confronted with questions such as are -included in the proposed outline for the study of "Evangeline." The -author of the pamphlet directs that these points are to be used "after -some power of analysis has been developed." - - The language. - - Relative proportion of English and Latin. - Archaic element, proportion and use. - Weight of the style; presentative and symbolic words. - Emotional element; experimental significance of terms. - Picture-element; prevailing character of figures of - speech. - - The structure. - - Grammatical. - - Poetic uses of words; archaisms, poetic forms. - Poetic uses of parts of speech, parse.[42:1] - Poetic constructions and inversions, analyze. - - Metrical. - - Number and character of metrical "feet." - Accent and quantity, the spondee. - Scan selected lines, compare with classic - hexameter. - Compare hexameter with other verse-forms. - Character of rhyme, compare with other poems. - Presence and use of alliteration. - - Musical. - - Examine for lightness and speed; trochee, dactyl, - polysyllables. - Examine for dignity; iambus, monosyllables. - Number of syllables in individual lines. - Character of consonants; stopped, unstopped, - voiced. - Character of vowels; back, front, round, harsh. - Correspondence of sound to sense. - -It would be interesting, and perhaps somewhat humiliating, for each -one of us who are teachers to take a list of the questions we have set -for examinations in literature and with perfect honesty tell ourselves -how many of them we could ourselves answer with any originality, and -how many it is fair to suppose that our students could write about -with any ideas except those gathered from teacher or text-book. With -the pressure of a doubtful system and of unintelligent custom always -upon us, few of us, it is to be feared, would escape without a sore -conscience. - -When I speak of a school-boy or a school-girl as writing with -"originality," I do not mean anything profound. I am not so deluded as -to suppose this originality will take the form of startlingly novel -discoveries in regard to the significance of work or the intention of -authors. I only mean that what the boy or girl writes shall be written -because he or she really thinks it, and that each idea, no matter if -it be obvious and crude, shall have some trace of individuality which -will indicate that it has passed through the mind of the particular -pupil who expresses it. This, I believe, is what should chiefly concern -the maker of examination-papers. He should especially aim at giving -students an opportunity of showing personal opinions and convictions. - -No one who has looked over files of examination-papers is likely to -deny that we are most of us likely to be betrayed into asking of our -classes absurd things in the line of criticism. It is all very well -to remember the scriptural phrase about the high character of some of -the utterances of babes and sucklings; but this is hardly sufficient -warrant for insisting that our school-children shall babble in -philosophy and chatter in criticism. The honest truth is that we are -constantly demanding of pupils things that we could for the most part -do but very poorly ourselves. The unfortunate youngsters who should -be solacing themselves with fairy-tales or with stories of adventure -as their taste happens to be, are being dragged through "The Vicar of -Wakefield,"—an exquisite book, which I doubt if one person in fifty -can read to-day with proper appreciation and delight until he is at -least twenty-five. They are being asked to write themes about Lady -Macbeth,—and if they were really frank, and wrote their own real -thoughts, if they considered her from the point of view of the children -they are, where is the teacher who would not feel obliged to return -the theme as a failure? Those instructors who recognized that it was -of real worth because genuine would also realize that it would be -impossible when tried by the modern standard of examinations. - -How far individual teachers go in demanding from children what the -youthful mind cannot be fairly expected to give will depend upon -the personal equation of the instructor. In too many cases the -entrance-examinations set a standard which in the fitting-schools may -not safely be ignored, but which is fatal to all original thinking. -Perhaps the worst form of this is the wrenching from the student what -are supposed to be criticisms upon artistic form or content. A hint of -the teaching which is intended to lead up to this has been given in -the topics suggested in connection with the study of "Evangeline" on -page 42. The "outline" from which those are quoted goes on to give the -following questions: - - Of what literary spirit is "Evangeline" the expression? - - What is the author's thought-habit as shown in the poem? - - What is the place of this poem in the development of verse? - -I am perhaps a little uncharitable to these queries because I am, I -confess, entirely unable to answer them myself; but I am also sure that -no child in the stage of mental development belonging to the secondary -schools would have any clear and reasonable idea even of what they -mean. The example is an extreme one, but it has more parallels than -would seem possible. - -The formulation of views on æsthetics, whether in regard to workmanship -or to motive, is utterly beyond the range of any mental condition the -teacher in secondary schools has a right to assume or to expect. All -that can happen is that the student who is asked to answer æsthetic -conundrums will reproduce, in form more or less distorted according -to the parrot-like fidelity of his memory, views he has heard without -understanding them. Any teacher of common sense knows this, and any -teacher of independent mind will refuse to be bullied by manuals or by -entrance-examination papers into inflicting tasks of this sort upon his -pupils. - -In any branch many students either go on blunderingly or fail -altogether through sheer ignorance of how to study. In the case of -literature perhaps more fail through this cause than through all others -combined. A robust, honest, and not unintelligent lad, who is fairly -well disposed toward school work, but whose real interests are in -outdoor life and active sport, who is intellectually interested only -in the obviously practical side of knowledge, is set down to "study" a -play of Shakespeare's. He is disposed to do it well, if not from any -vital interest in the matter, at least from a general habit of being -faithful in his work and a healthful instinct to do a thing thoroughly -if he undertakes it at all. He is at the outset puzzled to know what is -expected of him. In arithmetic or algebra he has had definite tasks, -and success has been in direct proportion to the diligence with which -he has followed a course definitely marked out. Now he casts about for -a rule of procedure. He can understand that he is expected to learn -the meaning of unusual or obsolete words, that he is to make himself -acquainted with the story so that he may be able to answer any of the -conundrums which adorn ingeniously the puzzle department of examination -papers. These things he does, but he is too sensible not to know that -if this is all there is to the study of literature the game is not -worth the candle. He cannot help feeling that the time thus employed -might be put to a better use; he is probably bored; and as he is sure -to know that he is bored, he is likely to conceive a contempt for -literature which is none the less deep and none the less permanent for -not being put into words. He very likely comes to believe, with the -inevitable tendency of youth to make its own feelings the criteria -by which to judge all the world, that everybody is really bored by -literature, if only, for some inscrutable reason, people did not feel -it necessary to shroud the matter in so much humbug. Talk about the -beauty of Shakespeare, about the greatness of his poetry, the wonders -of literary art, come to affect him as cant pure and simple. He puts -this to himself plainly or not according to his temperament; but the -feeling is in his mind, showing at every turn to one wise enough to -discern. Now and then a boy is born with the taste and appreciation of -poetry, and of course even in these days, when a literary atmosphere in -the home is unhappily so rare, an occasional student appears from time -to time who has been taught to care for poetry where every child should -learn to love it, in the nursery. On the whole, however, the average -school-boy really cares little or nothing for literature, and in his -secret heart is entirely convinced that nobody else cares either. - -Not knowing how to "study" literature, then, and feeling that in -literature is nothing to study which is of consequence, the pupil is -in no position to make even a reasonable beginning. He cannot even -approach literature in any proper attitude unless he can be made to -care for it; unless he can be so interested that he ceases to feel the -profession of admiration for the Shakespeare he is asked to work upon -to be necessarily cant and affectation. Perhaps the hardest part of the -task set before the teacher is to bring the pupil into a frame of mind -where he can properly study poetry and to give him some insight into -what such study may and should mean. - -How this is to be accomplished I cannot pretend fully to say. In -speaking of what I may call "inspirational" training in literature -I shall try to answer the question to some extent; and here I may at -least point out that the situation is from the first utterly hopeless -if the teacher is in the same state of mind as the pupil. If the -instructor is able to see no method of studying literature other than -mechanical drudgery over form, the looking-up of words, verification -of dates, dissection of plot, and so on, it is idle to hope that he -will be able to aid the class to anything better than this dry-as-dust -plodding. The teacher may at least learn what at its best the "study" -is. He may or may not have the power of inciting those under him to -enthusiasm, but he may at least show them that something is possible -beyond the mechanical treatment of the masterpieces of art. - -A writer in the (Chicago) "Dial" states admirably the attitude of great -masses of students in saying: - - There are many people, young people in particular, who, with - the best will in the world, cannot understand why it is that - men make such a fuss about literature, and who are honestly - puzzled by the praises bestowed upon the great literary - artists. They would like to join in sympathetic appreciation - of the masters, and they have an abundant store of gratitude - and reverence to lavish upon objects that approve themselves as - worthy; but just what there is in Shakespeare and Wordsworth - and Tennyson to call for such seeming extravagance of eulogy - remains a dark mystery. Such people are apt in their moments of - revolt to set it all down to a sort of critical conspiracy, - and to consider those who voice the conventional literary - estimates as chargeable with an irritating kind of hypocrisy. - They cannot see for the life of them why the books of the hour, - with their timeliness, their cleverness, their sentimental or - sensational interest, should be held of no serious account by - the real lovers of literature, while the dull babblers of a - bygone age are exalted to the skies by these same devotees of - the art of letters. . . . Some young people never recover from - the condition of open revolt into which they are thrown by the - injudicious methods of our education. - -Out of his own experience and appreciation the teacher must be able to -show the pupil some method of studying literature which shall in the -measure of the student's individual capacity lead to a conception of -what literature is and wherein lies its importance. Until this can be -done, nothing has been effected which is of any real or lasting value. - -The third defect which I have mentioned I have put in a phrase which -may at first seem somewhat cryptic. What is meant by the attempt to -reach the enthusiasm of the child through the reason may not be at once -apparent. Yet the thing is simple. It is not difficult to lead children -to think, and to think deeply, of things which have touched their -feeling. If once their emotions are aroused, they will go actively -forward in every investigation of which their minds are capable, -and with whatever degree of appreciation they are equal to. A child -cannot, however, be reasoned into any vital admiration. The extent to -which an adult is to be touched emotionally by argument is extremely -limited. Few travelers, for instance, are able really to respond when -an officious verger or care-taker points out some historic spot, and -after glibly relating some event in his professional patter, ends with -a look which says almost more plainly than words: "Stand just here, -and thrill! Sixpence a thrill, please." Yet this is very much what is -expected of children. The teacher takes a famous book, laboriously -recounts its merits, its fame, its beauties, and then tacitly commands -the children: "Think of that, and thrill! One credit for every thrill." -It is true that the verger demands a fee and the teacher promises a -reward, but the result is the same. Do the children thrill? Is there a -conscientious teacher who has tried this method who has not with bitter -disappointment realized that the students have come out of the course -with nothing save a few poor facts and disfigured conventional opinions -which they reserve for examinations as they might save battered pennies -for the contribution-box? They have been personally conducted through -a course of literature. They come out of it in much the same condition -as return home the personally conducted through foreign art-galleries -who say: "Yes, I must have seen the 'Mona Lisa,' if it's in the Louvre. -I saw all the pictures there, you know." The chief difference is that -children are generally incapable, outside of examination-papers, of -pretending an enthusiasm which they do not feel. - -One thing which is indisputable is that children know when they are -bored. Many adults become so proficient in the art of self-deception -as to be able to cheat themselves into thinking they are at the height -of enjoyment because they are doing what they consider to be the -proper thing; when in simple truth their only pleasure must lie in the -gratification of a futile vanity. Of children this is seldom true; -or, if it is true, it extends only to the fictions practiced by their -own childish world. If they have conventions, these differ from the -conventions of their elders, and they do not fool themselves with a -show of enjoyment when the reality is wanting. If they are wearied by a -book, the fact that it is a masterpiece does not in the least console -them. They may be forced by teachers to read or to study it, and to -say on examination-papers that it is beautiful; yet they not only know -they are not pleased, but to each other they are generally ready to -acknowledge it with perfect frankness. - -The need of saying this in the present connection is that it is not -possible really to convince children they are enjoying the writing of -themes about Mrs. Primrose, or about Silas Marner and Effie, or on -the character of Lady Macbeth, unless they are vitally interested. -I am far from being so modern as to think that pupils should not be -asked to do anything which they do not wish to do; but I am radical -enough to believe that no other good which may be accomplished by the -study of literature in any other way can compensate for making good -books wearisome. The idea that literature is something to be vaguely -respected but not to be read for enjoyment is already sufficiently -prevalent; and rather than see it more widespread, I would have all the -so-called teaching of literature in the secondary schools abolished -altogether. - -The last point which I mentioned as likely to diminish the value of -teaching is that it so often demands of teachers more than can be -surely or safely counted on in the way of fitness. This I do not mean -to dwell upon, nor is it my purpose to draw up a bill of arraignment -against my craft. I wish simply to comment that one essential, a prime -essential, in the teaching of literature is the power of imaginative -enthusiasm on the part of the teacher. This would be recognized if the -subject of instruction were any other of the fine arts. If teachers -were required to train school-children in the symphonies of Beethoven -or in the pictures of Titian, everybody would realize that some -special aptitude on the part of the instructor was requisite. Every -normal school or college graduate is set to teach the masterpieces of -Shakespeare or of Milton, and the fact that the poetry is as completely -a work of art as is symphony or picture, and that what holds true of -one as the product of artistic imagination must hold true of the other, -is quietly and even unconsciously ignored. - -No amount of study will create in a teacher the artistic imagination in -its highest sense, although much may be done in the way of developing -artistic perception; but at least self-improvement may go far in the -nourishing of the important quality of self-honesty. An instructor -must learn to deal fairly with himself. He must be strong enough to -acknowledge to himself fearlessly if he is not able to care for some -work that is ranked as an artistic masterpiece. He must be willing to -say unflinchingly to himself that he cannot do justice to this work or -to that, because he is not in sympathy with it, or because he lacks any -experience which would give him a key to its mood and meaning. - -One thing seems to me to be entirely above dispute in this delicate -inquiry: that it is idle to hope to impart to children what we have -not learned ourselves; and it follows that the first necessity is to -appreciate our shortcomings. I ask only for the same sort of honesty -which would by common consent be essential in teaching the more humble -branches. A teacher who could not solve quadratic equations would -manifestly be an ill instructor in algebra. By the same token it is -evident that a teacher who cannot enter into the heart of a poem, who -does not understand the mood of a play, who has not a real enthusiasm -for literature, is not fitted to help children to a comprehension and -an appreciation of these. Neither is the power to rehearse the praises -and phrases of critics or commentators a sufficient qualification for -teaching. In an examination-paper at the Institute of Technology a boy -recently wrote with admirable frankness and directness: - - I confess that while I like Shakespeare, I like other poets - better, and while my teachers have told me that he was the - greatest writer, they never seemed to know why. - -The boy unconsciously implies a most important fact, namely, that if -a teacher does not know why a poet is great, it is not only difficult -to convince the pupil of the reality of his claims, but also is it -impossible to disguise from the clever scholars the real ignorance -of the instructor. As well try to warm children by a description of -a fire as to endeavor to awake in them admiration and pleasure by -parrot-phrases, no matter how glibly or effectively repeated. They are -aroused only by the contagion of genuine feeling; they are moved only -by finding that the teacher is first genuinely moved himself. - -It is bad enough when an instructor repeats unemotionally what he has -unemotionally acquired about arithmetic or geography. Pupils will -receive mechanically whatever is mechanically imparted; and in even -the most purely intellectual branches such training can at best only -distend the mind of the child without nourishing it. When it comes to -a study which is presented as of value precisely because it kindles -feeling, the absurdity becomes nothing less than monstrous. - -Any child of ordinary intelligence comes sooner or later to perceive, -whether he reasons it out or not, that much of the literature presented -to him is not in the least worth the bother of study if it is to -be taken merely on its face-value. If "The Vicar of Wakefield" or -"Silas Marner" is to be read simply for the plot, either book might -be swept out of existence to-morrow and the world be little poorer. -A conscientious teacher will at least be honest with himself in -determining how much more than the obvious and often slight face-value -he is enabling his class to perceive. - -An ordinary modern school-boy unconsciously but inevitably measures -the values of the books presented to him by the news of the day and -the facts of life as he sees it. If he is not made to feel that books -represent something more than a statement of outward fact or of -fiction, he is too clear-headed not to see that they are of little -real worth, and with the pitiless candor of youth he is too honest not -to acknowledge this to himself. Young people are apt to credit their -elders with enormous power of pretending. The conventionalities of -life, those arrangements which adults recognize as necessary to the -comfort and even to the continuance of society, are not infrequently -regarded by the young as rank hypocrisy. The same is true of any tastes -which they cannot share. Again and again I have come upon the feeling -among students that the respect for literature professed by their -elders was only one of the many shams of which adult life appears to -children to be so largely made up. - -From the purely intellectual side of the matter, moreover, the youth -is right in feeling that there is nothing so remarkable in play or -poem as to justify the enthusiasm which he is told he should feel. If -he sees only what I have called the face-value, he would be a dunce -if he did not imagine an absurdity in the estimate at which the works -of great artists are held. He is precisely in the position of the man -who judges the great painting by its realistic fidelity to details, -and logically, from his point of view, ranks a well-defined photograph -above "The Night Watch" or the Dresden "Madonna." There is more thrill -and more emotion for the boy in the poorest newspaper account of a game -of football than in the greatest play of Shakespeare's,—unless the lad -has really got into the spirit of the poetry. - -If nothing is to be taken into account but the intellectual content -of literature, the child is therefore perfectly right, and doubly so -from his own point of view. Regarded as a mere statement of fact it -is to be expected that the average modern boy will find "Macbeth" far -less exciting and absorbing than an account of a football match or of -President Roosevelt's spectacular hunting. If we expect the lad to -believe without contention and without mental reservation that the work -of literature is really of more importance and interest than these -articles of the newspaper or the magazine, we are forced to depend upon -the qualities which distinguish poetry as art. If books are to be used -only as glove-stretchers to expand mechanically the minds of the young, -it is better to throw aside the works of the masters, and to come down -frankly to able expositions of literal fact, stirring and absorbing. - -It must be always borne in mind, moreover, that little permanent result -is produced except by what the pupil does for himself. The teacher is -there to encourage, to stimulate, to direct; but the real work is done -in the brain of the student. This limits what may wisely be attempted -in the line of instruction. What the teacher is able to lead the pupil -to discover or to think out for himself is within the limit of sound -and valuable work. With every class, and—what makes the problem much -more difficult—with every boy or girl in the class, the capacity will -vary. The signs, moreover, by which we determine how far a child is -thinking for himself, instead of more or less consciously mimicking -the mind of the master, are all well-nigh intangible, and must be -watched for with the nicest discernment. Often the teacher is obliged -to help the class or the individual as we help little children playing -at guessing-games with "Now you are hot," or "Now you are cold;" but -just as the game is a failure if the child has in the end to be told -outright the answer to the conundrum, so the instruction is a failure -if the student does not make his own discovery of the meaning and worth -of poem or play. The moment the instructor finds himself forced to do -the thinking for his class in any branch of study, he may be sure that -he has overstepped the boundary of real work, or at least that he has -been going too rapidly for his pupils to keep pace with him. This -is even likely to be true when he is obliged to do the phrasing, the -putting of the thought into word. He cannot profitably go farther at -that time. In another way, at another time, he may be able to bring -the class over the difficulty; but he is doing them an injury and not -a benefit, if he go on to do for them the thinking, or that realizing -of thought which belongs to putting thought into word. He is then not -educating, but "cramming." It is his duty to encourage, to assist, but -never to do himself what to be of value must be the actual work of the -learner himself. - -All this is evident enough in those branches where results are definite -and concrete, like the learning of the multiplication-table or of the -facts of geography. It is equally true in subjects where reasoning is -essential, like algebra or syntax. Most of all, if not most evidently, -is it vitally true in any connection where are involved the feelings -and anything of the nature of appreciation of artistic values. We -evidently cannot do the children's memorizing for them; but no more -can we do for them their reasoning; and least of all is it possible -to manufacture for them their likings and their dislikings, their -appreciations and their enthusiasms. To tell children what feelings -they should have over a given piece of literature produces about the -same effect as an adjuration to stop growing so fast or a request that -they change the color of their eyes. - -In any emotional as in any intellectual experience, intensity -and completeness must ultimately depend upon the capacity and the -temperament of the individual concerned. It is useless to hope that a -dull, stolid, unimaginative boy will have either the same appreciation -or the same enjoyment of art as his fellow of fine organization and -sensitive temperament. The personal limitation must be accepted, just -as is accepted the impossibility of making some youths proficient in -geometry or physics. It may be necessary under our present system—and -if so the fact is not to the credit of existing conditions—to present -the dull pupil with a set of ideas which he may use in examinations. -The proceeding would be not unlike providing the dead with an obolus by -way of fare across the Styx; and certainly in no proper sense could be -considered education. Difficult as it may be, the pupil must be made to -think and to feel for himself, or the work is naught. - -Perhaps the tendency to try to do for the student what he should -accomplish for himself is the most general and the most serious of -all the errors into which teachers are likely to fall. The temptation -is so great, however, and the conditions so favorable to this sort of -mistake, that it is not possible to mete out to instructors who fall -into it an amount of blame at all equal to the gravity of the offense. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[42:1] I am unable to resist the temptation to call attention to the -intimation that the writer perceives some relation between poetry and -parsing. It would be interesting if he had developed this. - - - - -V - -FOUNDATIONS OF WORK. - - -The foundation of any understanding or appreciation of literature is -manifestly the power of reading it intelligently. A truth so obvious -might seem to be taken for granted and to need no saying; but any -one who has dealt with entrance examination-papers is aware how -many students get to the close of their fitting-school life without -having acquired the power of reading with anything even approaching -intelligence. Primary as it may sound, I cannot help emphasizing as -the foundation of all study of literature the training of students in -reading, pure and simple. - -The practical value of simple reading aloud seems to me to have been -too often overlooked by teachers of literature. Teachers read to their -pupils, and this is or should be of great importance; but the thing of -which I am now speaking is the reading of the students to the teacher -and to the class. In the first place a student cannot read aloud -without making evident the degree of his intelligent comprehension of -what he is reading. He must show how much he understands and how he -understands it. - -The queer freaks in misinterpretation which come out in the reading -of pupils are often discouraging enough, but they are amusing and -enlightening. Any teacher can furnish absurd illustrations, and it is -not safe to assume of even apparently simple passages that the child -understands them until he has proved it by intelligent reading aloud. -The attention which oral reading is at present receiving is one of the -encouraging signs of the times, and cannot but do much to forward the -work of the teacher of literature. - -Of so much importance is it, however, that the first impression of -a class be good, that the instructor must be sure either to find a -reasonably good reader among the pupils for the first rendering or must -give it himself. In plays this is hardly wise or practicable; but here -the parts are easily assigned beforehand, and the pride of the students -made a help in securing good results. In any work a class should be -made to understand that the first thing to do in studying a piece of -literature is to learn to read it aloud intelligently and as if it were -the personal utterance of the reader. - -In dealing with a class it is often a saving of time and an easy method -of avoiding the effects of individual shyness to have the pupils read -in concert. In dealing with short pieces of verse this is, moreover, -a means of getting all the class into the spirit of the piece. The -method lacks, of course, in nicety; but it is in many cases practically -serviceable. - -Above everything the teacher must be sure, before any attempt is -made to do anything further, that the pupil has a clear understanding -at least of the language of what he reads. My own experience with -boys who come from secondary schools even of good grade has shown me -that they not infrequently display an extraordinary incapability of -getting from the sentences and phrases of literature the most plain -and obvious meaning, especially in the case of verse; while as to -unusual expressions they are constantly at sea. On a recent entrance -examination-paper I had put, as a test of this very power, the lines -from "Macbeth:" - - And with some sweet oblivious antidote - Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff. - -The play is one which they had studied carefully at school, and they -were asked to explain the force in these lines of "oblivious." Here are -some of the replies: - - "Oblivious," used in this quotation, means that the person - speaking was not particular as to the kind of antidote that was - chosen. - - A remedy that would not expose the lady to public suspicion. - - The word "oblivious" implies a soothing cure, which will heal - without arousing the senses. - - An antidote applied in a forgetful way, or unknown to the - person. - - "Oblivious" here means some antidote that would put Lady - Macbeth to sleep while the doctor removed the cause of the - trouble. - - "Oblivious antidote" means one that is very pleasing. - - The word "oblivious" is beautifully used here. Macbeth wishes - the doctor to administer to Lady Macbeth some antidote which - will cure her of her fatal [_sic_] illness, but which will not - at all be any bitter medicine. - - "Oblivious" here means relieving. - - "Oblivious" means some remedy the doctor had forgotten, but - might remember if he thought hard enough. - -Of course many of the replies were sensible and sound, but those hardly -better than these were discouragingly numerous. - -In my own second-year work, in which the students have had all the -fitting-school training and the freshman drill besides, I am not -infrequently confounded by the inability of students to understand the -meaning of words which one uses as a matter of course. The statement -that Raleigh secretly married a Lady in Waiting, for instance, -reappeared in a note-book in the assertion that Sir Walter ran away -with Queen Elizabeth's waiting-maid; and a remark about something which -took place at Holland House brought out the unbelievable perversion -that the event happened "in a Dutch tavern." Personally I have never -discovered how far beyond words of one syllable a lecturer to students -may safely go in any assurance that his language will be understood by -all the members of his class; but this is one of the things which must -be decided if teaching is to be effective. - -It must always be remembered that the vocabulary of literature is to -some extent different from that employed in the ordinary business of -life. The student is confronted with a set of terms which he seldom -or never uses in common speech; he must learn to appreciate fine -distinctions in the use of language; he must receive from words a -precision and a force of meaning, a richness of suggestion, which is -to be appreciated only by special and specific training. It will be -instructive for the teacher to take any ordinary high-school class, for -instance, and examine how far each member gets a complete and lucid -notion of what Burke meant in the opening sentence of the "Speech on -Conciliation:" - - I hope, Sir, that notwithstanding the austerity of the Chair, - your good nature will incline you to some degree of indulgence - toward human frailty. - -An instructor is apt to assume that the intent of a passage such as -this is entirely clear, yet I apprehend that not one high-school pupil -in twenty gets the real force of this unaided. - -If this example seems in its diction too remote from every-day speech -to be a fair example, the teacher may try the experiment with the -sentence in "Books" in which Emerson speaks of volumes that are - - So medicinal, so stringent, so revolutionary, so authoritative. - -Every word is of common, habitual use, but most young people would be -well-nigh helpless when confronted with them in this passage. - -The use in literature of allusion, of figures, of striking and unusual -employment of words, must become familiar to the student before he -is in a condition to deal with literature easily and with full -intelligence. The process must be almost like that of learning to read -in a foreign tongue. For a teacher to ignore this fact is to take the -position of a professor in Italian or Spanish who begins the reading -of his pupils not with words and simple sentences, but with intricate -prose and verse. - -It must be remembered, moreover, that if the diction of literature -is removed from the daily experience of the pupil, the ideas and the -sentiments of literature are yet more widely apart from it. Literature -must deal largely with abstract thoughts and ideas, expressed or -implied; it is necessarily concerned with sentiments more elevated or -more profound than those with which life makes the young familiar. They -must be educated to take the point of view of the author, to rise to -the mental plane of a great writer as far as they are capable of so -doing. Until they can in some measure accomplish this, they are not -even capable of reading the literature they are supposed to study. - -Fortunately it is with reading literature as it is with reading foreign -tongues. Often the context, the general tone, the spirit, will carry -us over passages in which there is much that is not clear to our exact -knowledge. Children are constantly able to get from a story or a poem -much more than would seem possible to their ignorance of the language -of literature. They are helped by truth to life even when they are far -from realizing what they are receiving; so that it would be manifestly -unjust to assume that the measure of a child's profit in a given case -is to be gauged too nicely by his acquaintance with the words, the -phrases, the tropes, the suggestions in which the author has conveyed -it. The fact remains, however, that in attempting to do anything -effective in the way of instruction the teacher has first of all to -train his pupil in the language of literature. - -The student, having learned to read the work which is to be studied, -must approach it through some personal experience. The teacher who is -endeavoring to assist him must therefore discover what in the child's -range of knowledge may best serve as a point of departure. In all -education, no less than in formal argument, a start can be made only -from a point of agreement, from something as evident to the student as -it is to the instructor. Consciously or unconsciously every teacher -acts upon this principle, from the early lessons in addition which -begin with the obvious agreement produced by the sight of the blocks -or apples or beads which are before the child. In literature, too, the -fact is commonly acted upon, if not so universally formulated. If young -pupils are having "The Village Blacksmith" read to them, the teacher -instinctively starts with the fact that they may have seen a blacksmith -at work at his forge. The difficulty is that teachers who naturally do -this in simple poems fail to see that the same principle holds good of -literature of a higher order, and that the more complex the problem, -the greater the need of being sure of this beginning with some actual -experience. - -With this finding some safe and substantial foundation in the pupil's -own experience is connected the necessity of speaking of literature, -as of anything else one tries to teach, in the language of the class -addressed. Of all that we say to our pupils very little if any of all -our careful wisdom really impresses them or remains in their minds -except that portion which we have managed to phrase in terms of their -language and so to put that it appeals to emotions of their own young -lives. They can have no conception of the characters in fiction or -poetry except in so far as they are able to consider these shadows as -moving in their own world. They should be told to make up their minds -about Lady Macbeth, or Robin Hood, or Dr. Primrose as if these were -persons of their own community about whom they had learned the facts -set forth in the books read. They cannot completely realize this, but -they get hold of the fictitious character only so far as they are able -to do it. They will at least come to have a conception that people they -see in the flesh and those they meet in literature are of the same -stuff fundamentally, and should be judged by the same laws. They will -receive the benefit, moreover, whether they realize it or not, of being -helped by fiction to understand real life, and they will be in the -right way of judging books by experience. - -The principle of speaking to pupils only in the language of their own -experience is of universal application, but it is to be applied with -common sense. Nothing is more unfortunate in teaching than to have -pupils feel that they are being talked down to or that too great an -effort is being made to bring instruction to their level. A friend -once told me of a professor who in the days of the first period of -tennis enthusiasm in this country made so great an effort to take all -his illustrations from the game that the class regarded the matter a -standing joke. Yet if care be exercised it is not difficult to mix -with the childish, the familiar, and the commonplace, the dignified, -the unusual, and the suggestive. Starting with a daily experience the -teacher may go on to states of the same emotion which are far greater -and higher than can have come into the actual life of the child, but -which are imaginatively intelligible and possible because although they -differ in degree they are the same in kind. Nothing is lost of the -dignity of a play of Shakespeare's dealing with ambition if the teacher -starts with ambition to be at the head of the school, to lead the -baseball nine, or to excel in any sport; but from this the child should -be led on through whatever instances he may know in history, and in -the end made to feel that the ambition of Macbeth is an emotion he has -felt, even though it is that emotion carried to its highest terms. So -the small and the great are linked together, and the use of the little -does not appear undignified because it has been a stepping-stone to the -great. - -The aim in teaching literature is to make it a part of the student's -intimate and actual life; a warm, human, personal matter, and not a -thing taken up formally and laid aside as soon as outside pressure is -removed. To this end is the appeal made to the pupil's experience, -and to this end is he allowed to make his own estimates, to formulate -his own likes and dislikes. Any teacher, it must be remembered, is -for the scholar in the position of a special pleader. The student -regards it as part of the pedagogic duty to praise whatever is taught, -and instinctively distrusts commendation which he feels may be only -formal and official. He forms his own opinion independently or from -the judgment of his peers,—the conclusions of his classmates. He -may repeat glibly for purposes of recitation or of examination the -criticisms of the teacher, but he is likely to be little influenced -by them unless they are confirmed by the voice of his fellows and his -own taste. If young people do not reason this out, they are never -uninfluenced by it; and this condition of things must be accepted by -the teacher. - -It follows that it is practically never wise to praise a book -beforehand. The proper position in presenting to the class any work for -study is that it is something which the class are to read together with -a view of discovering what it is like. Of course the teacher assumes -that it has merit or it would not be taken up, but he also assumes -that individually the members of the class may or may not care for it. -The logical and safe method is to set the students to see if they -can discover why good judges have regarded the work as of merit. The -teacher should say in effect: "I do not know whether you will care for -this or not; but I hope you will be able to see what there is in it to -have made it notable." - -When the study of poem or play is practically over, when the pupils -have done all that can be reasonably expected of them in the way of -independent judgment, the teacher may show as many reasons for praising -it as he feels the pupils will understand. He must, however, be honest -in letting them like it or not. He must recognize that it is better -for a lad honestly to be bored by every masterpiece of literature -in existence than to stultify his mind by the reception of merely -conventional opinions got by rote. - -Much the same thing might be said of the drawing of a moral, except -that it is not easy to speak with patience of those often well-meaning -but gravely mistaken pedagogues who seem bound to impress upon -their scholars that literature is didactic. In so far as a book is -deliberately didactic, it is not literature. It may be artistic in -spite of its enforcing a deliberate lesson, but never because of this. -My own instinct would be, and I am consistent enough to make it pretty -generally my practice, to conceal from a class as well as I can any -deliberate drawing of morals into which a writer of genius may have -fallen. It is like the fault of a friend, and is to be screened from -the public as far as honesty will permit. Certainly it should never be -paraded before the young, who will not reason about the matter, but are -too wholesome by nature and too near to primitive human conditions not -to distrust an offering of intellectual jelly which obviously contains -a moral pill. - -Morals are as a rule drawn by teachers who feel that they must teach -something, and something tangible. They themselves lack the conception -of any office of art higher than moralizing, and they deal with -literature accordingly. They are unable to appreciate the fact that the -most effective influence which can be brought to bear upon the human -mind is never the direct teaching of the preacher or the moralizer, -but the indirect instruction of events and emotions. Personally I have -sufficient modesty, moreover, to make me hesitate to assume that I can -judge better than a master artist how far it is well to go in drawing -a moral. If the man of genius has chosen not to point to a deliberate -lesson, I am far from feeling inclined to take the ground that I know -better, and that the sermon should be there. When Shakespeare, or -Coleridge, or Browning feels that a vivid transcript of life should -be left to work out its own effect, far from me be the presumption to -consider the poet wrong, or to try to piece out his magnificent work -with trite moralizing. - -The tendency to abuse children with morals is as vicious as it -is widespread. It is perhaps not unconnected with the idea that -instruction and improvement must alike come through means not in -themselves enjoyable. It is the principle upon which an old New -England country wife rates the efficacy of a drug by its bitterness. -We all find it hard to realize that as far as literature, at least, is -concerned, the good it does is to be measured rather by the pleasure -it gives. If the children entirely and intelligently delight in it, we -need bother about no morals, we need—as far as the question of its -value in the training of the child's mind goes—have no concern about -examinations. Art is the ministry of joy, and literature is art or it -is the most futile and foolish thing ever introduced into the training -of the young. - - - - -VI - -PRELIMINARY WORK - - -It will not always do to plunge at once into a given piece of -literature, for often a certain amount of preliminary work is needed -to prepare the mind of the pupil to receive the effect intended by the -author. For convenience I should divide the teaching of literature into -four stages: - - Preliminary; - Inspirational; - Educational; - Examinational. - -The division is of course arbitrary, but it is after all one which -comes naturally enough in actual work. One division will not -infrequently pass into another, and no one could be so foolish as -to suppose literature is to be taught by a cut and dried mechanical -process of any sort. The division is convenient, however, at least for -purposes of discussion; and no argument should be needed to prove that -in many cases the pupil cannot even read intelligently the literature -he is supposed to study until he has had some preparatory instruction. - -The vocabulary of any particular work must first be taken into account. -We do not ask a child to read a poem until we suppose him to have by -every-day use become familiar with the common words it contains. We -should remember that the poet in writing has assumed that the reader is -equally familiar with any less common words which may be used. It is -certainly not to be held that the writer intends that in the middle of -a flowing line or at a point where the emotion is at its highest, the -reader shall be bothered by ignorance of the meaning of a term; that -he shall be obliged to turn to notes to look up definitions, shall be -plunged into a puddle of derivations, allied meanings, and parallel -passages such as are so often prepared by the ingenious editors of -school texts. These things are well enough in their place and way; but -no author ever intended his work to be read by any such process, and -since literature depends so largely on the production of a mood, such -interruptions are nothing less than fatal to the effect. - -I remember as a boy sitting at the feet of an elder sister who was -reading to me in English from a French text. At the very climax of -the tale, when the heroine was being pursued down a wild ravine by a -bandit, the reader came to an adjective which she could not translate. -With true New England conscientiousness she began to look it up in -the dictionary; but I could not bear the delay. I caught the lexicon -out of her hands, and without having even seen the French or knowing -a syllable of that language, cried out: "Oh, I know that word! It -means 'blood-boltered.' Did he catch her?" She abandoned the search, -and in all the horror of the picturesque Shakespearean epithet the -bandit dashed on, to be encountered by the hero at the next turn of -the romantic ravine. I had at the moment, so far as I can remember, -no consideration of the exact truth of my statement. I simply could -not bear that the emotion of the crisis should be interrupted by that -bothersome search for an exact equivalent. The term 'blood-boltered' -fitted the situation admirably, and I thrust it in, so that we might -hurry forward on the rushing current of excitement. This, as I -understand it, is the fashion in which children should take literature. -Few occasions, perhaps, are likely to call for epithets so lurid as -that in which Macbeth described the ghost of Banquo, but the spirit of -the thing read should so carry the reader forward that he cannot endure -interruption. - -When work must be done with glossary and notes in order that the -text may be easily and properly understood, this should be taken as -straightforward preliminary study. It should be made as agreeable -as possible, but agreeable for and in itself. When I say agreeable -for itself, I mean without especial reference to the text for which -preparation is being made. The history of words, the growth and -modification of meanings, the peculiarities and relations of speech, -may always be made attractive to an intelligent class; and since here -and throughout all study of literature students are to be made to do -as much of the actual work as possible, this part is simple. - -The amount of time given to such learning of the vocabulary might -at first seem to be an objection to the method. In the first place, -however, there is an actual economy of time in doing all this at first -and at once, thus getting it out of the way, and saving the waste -of constant interruptions in going over the text; in the second, it -affords a means of making this portion of the work actually interesting -in itself and valuable for its relation to the study of language in -general; and in the third place it both fixes meanings in mind and -allows the reading of the author with some sense of the effect he -designed to give by the words he employed. - -It is hardly necessary to say that in this matter of taking up the -vocabulary beforehand many teachers, perhaps even most teachers, will -not agree with me. The other side of the question is very well put in -a leaflet by Miss Mary E. Litchfield, published by the New England -Association of Teachers in English: - - My pupils, I find, can work longer and harder on "Macbeth" and - "Hamlet," with constantly increasing interest, than on any - other masterpieces suited to school use. Just because these - dramas are so stimulating, the pupils have the patience to - struggle with the difficulties of the text. In general they - feel only a languid interest in word-puzzles such as delight - the student of language; for instance, the expression, "He - doesn't know a hawk from a handsaw," might fail to arouse their - curiosity. But when Hamlet says: "I am but mad north-north - west: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw," - they are on the alert; they really care to know what he means - and why he has used this peculiar expression. Thus word-study - which might be mere drudgery is rendered interesting by the - human element in the play—the element which, in my opinion, - should always be kept well in the foreground. - -A large number of teachers, many of them, very likely, of experience -greater than mine, will agree with this view. I am not able to do so -because I believe we should know the language before we try to read; -but I at least hold that the first principle in any successful teaching -is that a teacher shall follow the method which he finds best adapted -to his own temperament. For the instructor who is convinced that the -habit of taking up difficulties of language as they are met in actual -reading, to take them up then is perhaps the only effective way of -doing things. It seems to me, however, a little like sacrificing the -literature to a desire to make teaching the vocabulary easier. It is -very likely a simpler way of arousing interest in difficulties of -language; but in teaching literature the elucidation of obscure words -and phrases is of interest or value simply for the sake of the effect -of the text, and I hold that to this effect, and to this effect as a -whole, everything else should be subordinate. Each teacher must decide -for himself what is the proper method, but I insist that no author -ever wrote sincerely without assuming that his vocabulary was familiar -to his audience beforehand. Certainly I am not able to feel that it -is wise to interrupt any first reading with anything save perhaps the -briefest possible explanations, comments that are so short as not to -break the flow of the work as a whole. - -The first reading of a narrative of any sort, it may surely be said, -is chiefly a matter of making the reader, and especially the childish -reader, acquainted with the story. Since little real study can be -accomplished while interest is concentrated on the plot, it may be wise -for the teacher to have a first reading without any more attention to -the difficulties of vocabulary than is absolutely needed to make the -story intelligible, and then to have the difficulties learned before -a second and more intelligent going over of the work as a whole. Each -teacher must decide a point of this sort according to individual -judgment and the character of the class. - -In all the lower grades of school work whatever literature is given to -the children should be in diction and in phrasing so simple that very -little of this sort of preliminary work need be done. So long as what -is selected has real literary excellence it can hardly be too simple. -We constantly forget, it seems to me, how simple is the world of -children. Dr. John Brown, dear and wise soul, has justly said: - - Children are long in seeing, or at least in looking at what is - above them; they like the ground, and its flowers and stones, - its "red sodgers" and lady-birds, and all its queer things; - _their world is about three feet high_, and they are more often - stooping than gazing up. - -It does not follow that children are to be fed on that sort of -water-gruel which is so often vended as "juvenile literature." They -should be given the best, the work of real writers; but of this the -simplest should be chosen, and in dealing with it the children should -not be bothered with thoughts and ideas which are over their heads. -They live, it must be remembered, in a "world about three feet high," -mentally as well as physically. - -In preliminary work the first object is to remove whatever obstacles -might hinder ease and smoothness of progress in reading. Beside having -all obscure terms understood, it is well to call attention to some of -the most striking and beautiful passages in the book or poem which -is to be read. They should be taken up as detached quotations, and -the pupils made to discover or to see how and why each is good. The -pleasure of coming upon them when the text is read helps in itself; it -diminishes the strain upon the mind of the student in the effort of -comprehension, and it doubles the effect of the portions chosen. My -idea is that many fine passages may be treated almost as a part of the -vocabulary of the text; their meaning and force may be made so evident -and so attractive that when the complete play or poem is taken up a -knowledge of these bits helps greatly in securing a strong effect of -the work as a whole. - -We teachers too often ignore, it is to be feared, the strain it is -to the young to understand and to feel at the same time. We fail to -recognize, indeed, how difficult it is for them—or for any one—to -_feel_ while the attention is taxed to take in the meaning of a thing; -so that in literary study we are likely to demand the impossible, the -responsiveness of the emotions while all the force of the child's mind -is concentrated upon the effort to comprehend. Whatever may be done -legitimately to lessen this stress is most desirable. The preparation -of the vocabulary, the elucidation of obscure passages obviously aids -in this; but so does the pointing out of beauties. Instead of being -bothered in the midst of the effort to take in a poem or a play as a -whole and being harassed by the need of mastering details of diction or -phrasing, the student has a pleasant sense of self-confidence in coming -upon obscure matters already conquered; and in the same way receives -both pleasure and a feeling of mastery in recognizing beauties already -familiar. - -The preliminary work, besides this study of any difficulties of -vocabulary, should include whatever is needful in making clear any -difference between the point of view of the work studied and that of -the child's ordinary life. - -In "The Merchant of Venice," for instance, it is necessary to make -clear the fact that the play was written for an audience to which -usury was an intolerable crime and a Jew a creature to be thoroughly -detested. The Jew-baiting of recent years in Europe helps to make -this intelligible. The point must be made, because otherwise Antonio -appears like a cad and Jessica inexcusable. The story is easily brought -home to the school-boy, moreover, by its close relation to the simplest -emotions. - -The two facts that Antonio has incurred the hatred of Shylock through -his kindness to persons in trouble and that he comes within the -range of danger through raising money to aid his friend Bassanio are -so closely allied to universal human feelings and universal human -experience that it is only needful to be sure these points are clearly -perceived to have the sympathies of the class thoroughly awakened. All -this is so obvious that it is hardly necessary to say it except for the -sake of not omitting what is of so much real importance. Every teacher -understands this and acts upon it. - -To include this in the preliminary work may seem a contradiction of -a previous statement that it is not wise to tell children what they -are expected to get from any given book. The two matters are entirely -distinct. What should be done is really that sort of giving of the -point of view which we so commonly and so naturally exercise in telling -an anecdote in conversation. "Of all conceited men I ever met," we say, -"Tom Brandywine was the worst. Why, once I saw him"—and so on for -the story which is thus declared to be an exposition of overweening -vanity. "See," we say to the class in effect, "you must have felt sorry -to see some kindly, honest fellow cheated just because he was too -honest to suspect the sneak that cheated him. Here is the story of a -great, splendid, honest Moor, a noble general and a fine leader, who -was utterly ruined and brought to his death in just that way." This is -not drawing a moral, and it seems to me entirely legitimate aid to the -student. It is less doing anything for them that they could and should -do than it is directing them so that they may advance more quickly and -in the right direction. - -This indication of the general direction in which the mind should move -in considering a work is closely connected with what might be called -establishing the proper point of departure. This is neither more nor -less than fixing the fact of common experience in the life of the pupil -at which it seems safe and wise to begin. What has been said about -the way in which a teacher calls upon the experience of the pupils to -bring home the picture of the Village Blacksmith at his forge is an -indication of what is here meant. In teaching history to-day, with -a somewhat older grade of pupils than would be reading that poem of -Longfellow's, an instructor naturally makes vivid the Massacre of St. -Bartholomew by comparison with the reports of Jewish massacres in our -own time; and in the same line the fact that it is so short a time -since the King of Servia was assassinated, or that the present Sultan -of Turkey cemented on his crown with the blood of his brothers, may -be made to assist a class to take the point of view necessary for the -realization of the tragedy in "Macbeth." I have already spoken[83:1] -of the humbler, but perhaps even more vital way in which the vice of -ambition that is so strong a motive power in that tragedy is to be -understood by starting from the rivalry in sports, since from this so -surely intelligible emotion the mind of the boy is easily led on to the -ambition which burns to rule a kingdom. It is wise not to be afraid of -the simple. If the poem to be studied is "The Ancient Mariner," it is -well to discover what is the strangest situation in which any member of -the class has ever found himself. After inciting the rest of the pupils -to imagine what must be one's feelings in such circumstances, it is not -difficult to lead them on to understand the declaration of Coleridge -that he tried to show how a man would feel if the supernatural were -actual. - -For natural, wholesome-minded children it is not in the least necessary -to take pains to reconcile them to the supernatural. To the normal -child the line between the actual and the unreal does not exist -until this has been drilled into him by adult teaching, conscious -or unconscious. The normal condition of youth is that which accepts -a fairy as simply and as unquestioningly as it accepts a tree or a -cow. Certainly it is true that children are in general ready enough -for what they would call "make-believe," that stage of half-conscious -self-deception which lies between the blessed imaginative faith of -unsophisticated childhood and the more skeptical attitude of those who -have discovered that "there isn't any Santa Claus." For all younger -classes nothing more is likely to be necessary than to assume that the -wonderful will be accepted. - -When occasion arises to justify the marvellous, the teacher may always -call attention to the fact that in poems like "The Ancient Mariner," -or "Comus," or "Macbeth" the supernatural is a part of the hypothesis. -To connect with this the pupil's conception of the part the hypothesis -plays in a proposition in geometry is at once to help to connect one -branch of study with another, always a desirable thing in education, -and to aid them in understanding why and how they are to accept the -wonders of the story entirely without question. The impossible is part -of the proposition, and this they must be made to feel before they can -be at ease with their author or get at all the proper point of view. - -The aim of literature is to arouse emotion, but we live in a realistic -age, and the youth of the present is not given to the emotional. -Youth, moreover, instinctively conceals feeling, and the lads in our -school-classes to-day are in their outside lives and indeed in most of -their school-work called upon to be as hard-headed and as unemotional -as possible. They are likely to feel that emotion is weak, that to be -moved is effeminate. They will shy at any statement that they should -feel what they read. The notion of conceiving an hypothesis helps just -here. A boy will accept—not entirely reasoning the thing out, but -really making of it an excuse to himself for being moved—the idea that -if the hypothesis were true he might feel deeply, although he assures -himself that as it is he is actually stable in a manly indifference. -The aim of the teacher is to awake feeling, but not to speak of it; to -touch the class as deeply as possible, yet not to seem aware, or at -least not to show that he is aware that the students are touched. - -In this as in all treatment of literature, any connection with the -actual life of the pupil is of the greatest value. It seems to justify -emotion, and it gives to the work of imagination a certain solidity. -Without reasoning the thing out fully, a boy of the present day is -likely to judge the importance of anything presented to him at school -by what he can see of its direct bearing upon his future work, and -especially by its relations to the material side of life. This is even -measurably true of children so young that they might be supposed still -to be ignorant of the realism of the time and of the practical side of -existence. The teacher best evades this danger by starting directly -from some thought or fact in the child's present life and from this -leading him on to the mood of the work of literature which is under -consideration. - -Here and everywhere I feel the danger of seeming to be recommending -mechanical processes for that which no mechanical process can reach. If -the teacher has a sympathetic love for literature, he will understand -that I do not and cannot mean anything of the sort; if he has not -that sympathy, he cannot treat literature otherwise than in a machine -fashion, no matter what is said. It sometimes seems that it is hardly -logical to expect every teacher to be an instructor in literature any -more than it would be to ask every teacher to take classes in music and -painting. Art requires not only knowledge but temperament; both master -and pupil must have a responsiveness to the imaginative, or little can -be accomplished. Since the exigencies of our present system, however, -require that so large a proportion of teachers shall make the attempt, -I am simply endeavoring to give practical hints which may aid in the -work; but I wish to keep plainly evident the fact that nowhere do I -mean to imply a patent process, a mechanical method, or anything which -is of value except as it is applied with a full comprehension that the -chief thing, the thing to which any method is to be at need completely -sacrificed, is to awaken appreciation and enthusiasm, to quicken the -imagination of the student, and to develop whatever natural powers he -may have for the enjoying and the loving of good books.[87:1] - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[83:1] Page 69. - -[87:1] While this volume was in press a writer in the _Monthly Review_ -(London) has remarked: "I fail to see how a literary sense can be -cultivated until a firm foundation of knowledge has been laid whereon -to build, and I tremble to think of the result of an enforced diet of -'The Canterbury Tales,' 'The Faerie Queen,' and 'Marmion' upon a class -as yet ignorant of the elements of English composition." - - - - -VII - -THE INSPIRATIONAL USE OF LITERATURE - - -The term "inspirational," which I have used as indicating the second -division of the teaching of literature, is a somewhat absurdly large -word for what is the most simple and natural part of the whole dealing -with books which goes on between teacher and pupil. It is a term, -however, which expresses pretty well what is or should be the exact -character of the study at its best. The chief effect of literature -should be to inspire, and by "inspirational," as applied to teaching, I -mean that presentation of literature which best secures this end. - -Put in simpler terms the whole matter might be expressed by saying that -the most important office of literature in the school as in life is to -minister to delight and to enthusiasm; and whoever is familiar with the -limited extent to which the required training in college requirements -or in prescribed courses fulfils this office will realize the need -which exists for the emphasizing of this view of the matter. Literature -is made a gymnasium for the training of the intellect or a treadmill -for the exercise of the memory, but it is too seldom that delight which -it must be to accomplish its highest uses. - -That the secondary schools should be chiefly concerned with this phase -of literature seems to me a truth so obvious and so indisputable that -I can see only with astonishment that it is so generally ignored. In -the lower grades, it is true, something is done in the way of letting -children enjoy literature without bothering about didactic meanings, -history of authors, philological instances, critical manipulations, and -all the devices with which later the masterpieces of genius are turned -into bugbears; but even here too many teachers feel an innate craving -to draw morals and to make poetry instructive. They seem to forget -that as children themselves they skipped the moral when they read a -story, or at best received it as an uninteresting necessity, like the -core of an apple, to be discarded when from it had been gleaned all -the sweets of the tale. Nothing is more amazing than the extent to -which all we teachers, in varying degrees, but universally, even to the -best of us, go on dealing with a sort of imaginary child which from -our own experience we know never did and never could exist. The first -great secret of all teaching is to recognize that we must deal with our -pupils as if we were dealing with our own selves at their age. If we -can accomplish this, we shall not bore them with dull moralizings under -the pretext that we are introducing them to the delights of literature. - -Where a class has to be dealt with, the work in any branch must be -adapted to the average mind, and not to the understanding of the -individual; so that in school many things are impossible which at -home, or in individual training, are not difficult. It is not hard, I -believe, to interest even the average modern boy, distracted by the -multiplicity of current impressions, in the best literature, provided -he may be taken alone and competently handled. Almost any wholesome and -sane lad may at times be found to be indifferent in class to the plays -of Shakespeare, for instance; yet I believe few healthy and fairly -intelligent boys of from ten to fifteen could resist the fascination of -the plays if these were read with them by a competent person at proper -times, and without the dilution of mental perception which necessarily -comes with the presence of classmates. Be this, however, as it may, -the teacher must be content with arousing as well as he can the spirit -of the class as a whole. Some one or two of the cleverest pupils will -lead, and may seem to represent the spirit of all; but even they are -not what they would be alone, and in any case the instructor must not -devote himself to the most clever while the rest of the pupils are -neglected. - -It follows that in the choice of pieces to be read to students the -first thing to be considered is that these shall be effective in a -broad sense so that they will appeal to the average intelligence and -taste of a given class easily and naturally. They must first of all -have that strong appeal to general human emotion which will insure a -ready response from youth not well developed æsthetically and rendered -less sensitive by being massed with other students in a class. Such -a selection is not easy, and it involves the careful study of what -may be termed the individuality of any given group of pupils; but it -seems to me to be at once one of the most obvious and one of the most -important of the points which should be considered in the beginning of -any attempt to create in school a real enjoyment in literature. - -A danger which naturally presents itself at the very outset is the -likelihood of forgetting that the possession of this easy and obvious -interest is not a sufficient reason why a work should be presented to a -class. It too often happens that the desire of arousing and interesting -pupils leads teachers to bring forward things that are sensational and -have little if any further recommendation. Doubtless Dr. Johnson was -right when he declared that "you have done a great thing when you have -brought a boy to have entertainment from a book;" yet after all the -teacher is not advancing in his task and may be doing positive harm -if he sacrifice too much to the desire to be instantly and strongly -pleasing. Flashy and unworthy books are so pressed upon the reading -public at the present day that especial care is needed to avoid -fostering the tendency to receive them in place of literature. - -It is not my purpose to give lists of selections, for in the first -place it has been done over and over, notably in such a collection as -the admirable "Heart of Oak" series; and in the second no selection -can be held to be equally adapted to different classes or to have -real value unless it has been made with a view to the actual needs of -a definite body of pupils. Pupils must be interested, yet the things -chosen to arouse their interest should be those which have not only the -superficial qualities which make an instant appeal, but possess also -those more lasting merits essential to genuine literature. - -In the lower grades it is generally, I believe, possible for the -teacher to control the choice of selections put before students, -although even here this is not always the case. If errors of selection -are made, however, they are largely due to inability to judge wisely -and to a too great deference to general literary taste. A teacher -must remember that two points are absolutely essential to any good -teaching of literature: first, that the selection be suited to the -possibilities of the individual class; second, that the teacher be -qualified so to use and present the selection as to make it effective. -Many conscientious teachers take poems which they know are regarded -as of high merit, and which have been used with advantage by other -instructors, yet which they individually, from temperament or from -training, are utterly inadequate to handle. They either lack the -insight and delight in the pieces which are essential if the pupils -are to be kindled, or are deficient in power so to present their own -appreciation and enjoyment that these appeal to the children. - -For illustration of one of the ways in which a child may be led into -the heart of a poem I have chosen "The Tiger," by William Blake. -This belongs to the class of literature constantly taken for use with -children because it is reputed to be beautiful, yet which constantly -fails in its appeal to a class. It is to me one of the most wonderful -lyrics in the language, yet I doubt if it would ever have occurred to -me to use it in our common schools, and certainly I should never have -dreamed that it was to be presented to children in the lower grades. -I do not know with what success teachers in general may have used it, -but in one or two Boston schools with which I happen to be fairly -well acquainted the effect is pretty justly represented by the mental -attitude of the small lad spoken of in the next chapter. The extent to -which children acquiesce in a sort of mechanical compliance in what to -them are the vagaries of their elders in the matter of literature can -hardly be exaggerated. Doubtless they often unconsciously gain much -of which they do not dream in the way of the development of taste and -perception, but too often the whole of the instruction given along -æsthetic lines slides over them without producing any permanent effect -of appreciable value. - -Of course I do not contend that children are not advancing unless they -know it. Early training in literature may often be of the highest value -without definite consciousness on the part of the child. Self-analysis -is no more to be expected here than anywhere else in the early stages -of training. The child does not in the least comprehend, for instance, -that the ditties of Mother Goose, meaningless jingles as they are, -are educating his sense of rhythm; he does not understand that his -imaginative powers are being nourished by the fairy-tale, the normal -mental food for a certain stage of the development of the individual as -it is the natural and inevitable product of a corresponding stage in -the development of the race. So long as a child has genuine interest -in a poem or a tale he is getting something from it, but he does not -concern himself to consider anything beyond present enjoyment. In the -earlier stages at least, and for that matter at any stage, the thing -to be secured is interest; and instruction in the lower school grades -should be confined to what is actually needed to make children enjoy a -given piece. Anything beyond this may wisely be deferred. - -In many of the lower grades it is now the fashion to have children -act out poems. The method is spoken of with satisfaction by teachers -who have tried it. I know nothing of it by experience, but should -suppose it might be good if not carried too far. Children are naturally -histrionic, and advantage may be taken of this fact to stimulate their -imagination and to quicken their responsiveness to literature, if -seriousness and sincerity are not forgotten. - -In this early work it does not seem to me that much can wisely be done -in the study of metrical effects. Indeed, I have serious doubts whether -much in the way of the examination of the technique of poetry properly -has place anywhere in preparatory schools. The child, however, should -be trained gradually to notice metrical effects, by having attention -called to passages which are especially musical or impressive. By -beginning with ringing and strongly marked verse and leading on to -effects more delicate the teacher may do much in this line. - -I have called this early work "inspirational" because it should be -directed to making literature a pleasure and an inspiration. The word, -clumsy as it may seem, does express the real function of art, and the -only function which may with any profit be considered in the earlier -stages of the "study" of literature. The object is to make the children -care for good books; to show them that poetry has a meaning for them; -and to awaken in them—although they will be far from understanding the -fact—a sensitiveness to ideals. The child will not be aware that he -is being given higher views of life, that he is being trained to some -perception of nobler aims and possibilities greater than are presented -by common experiences; but this is what is really being accomplished. -Any training which opens the eyes to the finer side of life is in the -best and truest sense inspiration; and it should be the distinct aim -of the teacher to see to it that whatever else may happen, in the -lower grades or in the higher, this chief function of the teaching of -literature shall not be lost sight of or neglected. - - - - -VIII - -AN ILLUSTRATION - - -To attempt to give a concrete illustration of the method in which any -teaching is to be carried on is in a way to try for the impossible. -Every class and every pupil must be treated according to the especial -nature of the case and the personal equation of the teacher. I perhaps -expose myself to the danger of seeming egotistic if I insert here an -experience of my own, and, what is of more consequence, I may possibly -obscure the very points I am endeavoring to make clear. As well as I -can, however, I shall set down an actual talk, in the hope that it -may afford some hint of the way in which even difficult pieces of -literature may be made to appeal to a child. Of course this is not in -the least meant as a model, but solely and simply as an illustration. - -I once asked a fine little fellow of eight what he was doing at school. -He answered—because this happened to be the task which at the moment -was most pressing—that he was committing to memory William Blake's -"Tiger." - -"Do you like it?" I asked. - -"Oh, we don't have to like it," he responded with careless frankness, -"we just have to learn it." - -The form of his reply appealed to one's sense of humor, and I wondered -how many of my own students in literature might have given answers not -dissimilar in spirit, had they not outgrown the delicious candor which -belongs to the first decade of a lad's life. The afternoon chanced to -be rainy and at my disposal. I was curious to see what I could do with -this combination of Blake and small boy, and I made the experiment. -I should not have chosen the poem for one so young; but it is real, -compact of noble imagination, the boy was evidently genuine, and a real -poem must have something for any sincere reader even if he be a child. - -The following report of our talk was not written down at the time, -and makes no pretense of being literal. It does represent, so far -as I can judge, with substantial accuracy what passed between the -straightforward lad and myself. Too deliberate and too diffuse to have -taken place in a school-room, it yet gives, on an extended scale, -what I believe is the true method of "teaching literature" in all the -secondary-school work. I do not claim to have originated or to have -discovered the method; but I hope that I may be able to make clearer -to some teachers how children may be helped to do their own thinking -and thus brought to a vital and delighted enjoyment of the masterpieces -they study. - -I began to repeat aloud the opening lines of the poem. - -"Why," said the boy, "do you know that? Did you have to learn it at -school when you were little like me?" - -"I'm not sure when I did learn it," I answered; "I've known it for a -good while; but I didn't just learn it. I like it." - -I repeated the whole poem, purposely refraining from giving it very -great force, even in the supreme symphonic outburst of the magnificent -fifth stanza: - - Tiger, tiger, burning bright - In the forests of the night, - What immortal hand or eye - Could frame thy fearful symmetry? - - In what distant deeps or skies - Burnt the fire of thine eyes? - On what wings dare he aspire? - What the hand dare seize the fire? - - And what shoulder and what art - Could twist the sinews of thy heart? - And, when thy heart began to beat, - What dread hand formed thy dread feet? - - What the hammer? what the chain? - In what furnace was thy brain? - What the anvil? what dread grasp - Dare its deadly terrors clasp? - - When the stars threw down their spears, - And watered heaven with their tears, - Did he smile His work to see? - Did he who made the lamb make thee? - -"It sounds rather pretty," I commented, as carelessly as possible. - -"Yes, I suppose so," he assented colorlessly, looking at me rather -suspiciously. - -He was a shrewd little mortal, and he had been so often told at school -that he should like this and that for which in reality he did not -care a button that he was on his guard. I made a casual remark about -something entirely unrelated to the subject. It was well that the lad -should not feel that he was being instructed. Then in a manner as -natural and easy as I could make it I asked: - -"Did you ever see a tiger?" - -"Oh, yes; I've seen lots of them at the circus. Tom Bently never went -to but one circus, but I've been to four." - -"What does a tiger look like?" I went on, ignoring the irrelevant. - -"He's a fierce-looking thing! Didn't you ever see one?" - -"Yes, I've seen them, but I wondered if they looked the same to you as -they do to me." - -"Why, how do they look to you?" - -"I asked you first. It's only fair for you to say first." - -"Well," the small boy said, with a fine show of being determined to -play fair, "I think they look like great big, big, big cats. Did you -think that?" - -"That's exactly what I should have said. They really are a sort of cat, -you know. Did you ever see a keeper stir them up?" - -"Oh, yes, sir; and they snarled like anything, and licked their lips -just like this!" - -He gave a highly gratifying imitation, and then added vivaciously: "If -I were the keeper, I'd keep stirring them up all the time. They did -look so mad!" - -"And they opened and shut their eyes slowly," I suggested, "as if -they'd like to get hold of their keeper." - -"Yes; and their eyes were just like green fire." - -"'Burning bright,'" I quoted; and then without giving the boy time to -suspect that he was being led on, I asked at once: "Did you ever see a -cat's eyes in the dark?" - -"Oh, I saw our cat once last summer, when we were in the country, under -a rosebush after dark, when Dick and I got out of the window after we'd -gone to bed. She just scared me; her eyes were just like little green -lanterns. Dick said they were like little bicycle lamps." - -"If it had been a tiger under a bush in the night,—'in the forests of -the night,'—" - -"Oh," interrupted the boy with the eagerness of a discoverer, "is that -what it means! Did he see a tiger in the night under a bush? A real, -truly tiger, all loose? I'd have run away." - -"I don't know if he ever saw one," I answered. "I rather think he -saw a tiger or a picture of one, or thought of one, and then got to -thinking how it must seem to come across one in the woods; when one was -travelling, say, in the East where tigers live wild. If you came upon -one in the forest in the dark, what do you think would be the first -thing that would tell you a tiger was near?" - -"I'd hear him." - -"Did you ever hear a cat moving about?" - -"No," the boy said doubtfully. "Aunt Katie says Spot doesn't make any -more noise than a sunbeam. Could a sunbeam make a noise?" - -"She meant that Spot didn't make any. You'd never hear a tiger coming, -for it's a kind of cat, and moves without sound. You wouldn't know that -way." - -"I'd see him." - -"In the night? You couldn't see him." - -"Yes, I could! Yes, I could!" he cried triumphantly. "I'd see his eyes -just like green fire." - -I had interested the lad and taken him far enough to feel sure he would -follow me if I helped him on a little faster. I was ready to use clear -suggestion when I felt that he would respond to it as if the thought -were his own. - -"Well," I said, "don't you see that this is just what the man who wrote -the poem meant? He got to thinking how the tiger would look in the -night to anybody that came on him in the forest and saw those eyes like -green fires shining at him out of the jungle. Don't you suppose you or -I would think they were pretty big fires if we saw them, and knew there -was a tiger behind them?" - -"I guess we should! Wooh! Do you suppose Bruno'd run?" - -Bruno was a small and silky water-spaniel, a charming beast in his -way, but not especially welcome at this point of the conversation. - -"Very likely;" I slid over the subject. "The man knew that he would -have a feeling how big and strong that tiger must be: and it gave him -a shock to think what a fearful thing the beast would be there in the -dark, with all the warm, damp smells of the plants in the air, and the -strange noises. It would almost take away his breath to think what a -mighty Being it must have taken to make anything so awful as a tiger." - -"Yes," the lad said so quietly that I let him think a little. He had -snuggled up against my knee and laid hold of my fingers, and I knew -some sense of the matter was working in him. After a moment or two I -asked him if he could repeat the first verse of the poem as if he were -the man who thought of the tiger in the jungle there, with fierce eyes -shining out of the dark, and who had so clear an idea of the mighty -creature that he couldn't help thinking what a wonderful thing it was -that it could be created. The boy fixed his eyes on mine as if he were -getting moved and half-consciously desired to be assured that I was -utterly serious and sympathetic; and in his clear childish voice he -repeated in a way that had really something of a thrill in it: - - "Tiger, tiger, burning bright - In the forests of the night, - What immortal hand or eye - Could frame thy fearful symmetry?" - -"If a traveller were in the jungle in the dark night," I went on after -a word of praise for his recitation, "I suppose he couldn't see much -around him, the trees would be so thick. He'd have to look up to the -sky to see anything but the tiger's eyes." - -"He'd see the stars there," the boy observed, just as I had hoped he -would. "I've seen stars through the trees. I was out in the woods long -after dark once." - -"Were you really? The man must have thought the stars looked like the -eyes, as if when the animal was made the Creator went to the sky itself -for that fire. Think of a Being that could rise to the very stars and -take their light in His hand." - -"Ouf!" the small man cried naïvely. "I shouldn't want to take fire in -my hand!" - -"The writer of the poem was thinking what a wonderful Being He must be -that could do it; but that if He could make a creature like the tiger, -He would be able to do anything." - -The boy reflected a moment, and then, with a frank look, asked: "Did -the fire in a tiger's eyes really come out of the stars?" - -"I don't think that the poem means that it really did," was my answer. -"I think it means that when the poet thought how wonderful a tiger is, -with the life and the fierceness shining like a flame in his eyes, -and how we cannot tell where that fire came from, and that the stars -overhead were scarcely brighter, it seemed as if that was where the -green light came from. He was trying to say how wonderful and terrible -it was to him,—especially when he thought of coming upon the beast all -alone in the forest in the night with nobody near to defend him." - -The boy was silent, and thinking hard. He had evidently not yet clearly -grasped all the idea. - -"But God didn't make a tiger on an anvil and put pieces of stars in for -eyes," he objected. - -"You told me yesterday that Bruno swims like a duck. He doesn't really, -for a duck goes on the top of the water." - -"Oh, but I meant that Bruno goes as fast as a duck." - -"And you wanted me to know how well he swims, I suppose." - -"Why, of course. Bruno can swim twice as fast as Tom Talcott's dog." - -"You said that about the duck to make me know what a wonderful swimmer -Bruno is, and the man who wrote the poem wanted you when you read it to -feel how wonderful the tiger seemed to him; its eyes as if they were of -fire brought from the stars, its strength so great that it seemed as if -his muscles had been beaten out on an anvil from red-hot steel by some -Being mighty enough to do something no man could begin to do. The poem -doesn't mean that a tiger was really made in this way; but it does mean -that when you think of the strength and fearfulness of the creature, -able to carry off a man or even a horse in its jaws, this is the best -way to give an idea of how terrible the animal seemed." - -The boy accepted this, and so we came to the fifth verse. The range -of ideas here is so much beyond the mind of any child that it was -necessary to suggest most of them, to go very slowly, and in the end -to be content with a childishly inadequate notion of the magnificent -conception. I gave frankly a suggestion of the creation of all the -animals at the beginning, and of how the angels might have stood around -like stars, watching full of interest and of kindness. The boy was -easily made to feel as if he had seen the making of the deer and the -lamb and the horse, and of how the angels might see in one or another -of the animals a help or a friend to man. - -"Then suppose," I said, "that the angels should see God make the great -tiger, royal and terrible. What would they see?" - -"Oh, a great fierce thing," the lad returned. "Do you suppose he'd jump -right at the deer and the lambs?" - -"He would make the angels think how he could. How different from the -other animals he'd be." - -"Yes, he'd have big, big, sharp teeth, and he'd lash his tail, and he'd -put out his claws. Do you suppose he'd sharpen his claws the way Muff -does on the leather chairs?" - -"Very likely he would," I said. "At any rate the angels would think -how the other animals would be torn to pieces if the tiger got hold of -them; and they would think of what would happen to men. Perhaps they -would imagine some poor Hindu woman, with her baby on her back going -through a path in the jungle, and how the tiger might leap out suddenly -and tear them both to pieces. The angels couldn't understand how God -could bear to make any animal so cruel, or how He could be willing to -have anything so wicked in the world. They would be so sorry for all -the suffering that was to come that they would throw down their spears -and not be able to keep back the tears." - -"But angels wouldn't have spears, would they?" - -I went to a shelf of the library in which we were talking and took down -a volume in which I found a picture of St. Michael in full armor. - -"It is like the fire from the stars," I said. "Of course nobody ever -saw an angel to know how he would look, but to show how strong and -powerful an angel might be, a good many men that make pictures have -painted them like knights." - -"But men that had spears wouldn't cry; I shouldn't think angels would." - -"Even the strongest men cry sometimes, my boy; only it has to be -something tremendous to make them. A thing that would make the angels -'water heaven with their tears' must be something so terrible that you -couldn't tell how sad it was." - -"Well, anyway, I'd rather be a tiger than a lamb," he proclaimed rather -unexpectedly. - -"Very likely," I assented, "but I think you'd rather have a lamb come -after Baby Lou than a tiger." - -"Oh, I wouldn't want a tiger to get Baby Lou!" he cried with a tremor. - -"I suppose that is the way the angels might feel at the idea of the -tiger's killing anybody," I rejoined. - -With a lad somewhat older one would have gone on to develop the -thought that to the watching angels the tiger, leaping out fierce -and bloodthirsty from the hand of the Creator, would be like the -incarnation of evil, and that in their weeping was represented all the -sorrowful problem of the existence of evil in the Universe; but this on -the present occasion I did not touch upon. - -"So the angels," I went on, "couldn't keep back their tears; but what -did God do?" - -"Why, He smiled!" the boy answered, evidently with astonishment at the -thought which now for the first time came home to him. "I shouldn't -think He'd have smiled." - -"When you were so disappointed the other day because the carriage was -broken and you couldn't go over to the lake in it, do you remember that -Uncle Jo laughed?" - -"Oh, he knew we could go in his automobile." - -"He knew." - -"Yes, he knew," began the boy, "and so—" He stopped, and looked at me -with a sudden soberness. "What did God know?" he asked seriously. - -"He must have known that somehow everything was right, don't you think? -He knew why He had made the tiger, just as He knew why He had made the -lamb, and so He could see that everything would be as it should be in -the end." - -"But—but—" - -The boy was speechless in face of the eternal problem, as so many -greater and wiser have been before him. It seemed to me that we had -done quite enough for once, so I broke off the talk with a suggestion -that we try the boy's favorite game. That was the end of the matter for -the time, but in the library of the lad's father the copy of Blake is -so befingered at the page on which "The Tiger" is printed that it is -evident that the boy, with the soiled fingers of his age, has turned it -often. How much he made out of the talk I cannot pretend to say, but at -least he came to love the poem. - -I said at the start that I do not give the conversation, which is -actual, as a sample, but as an illustration. The poem called for more -leading on of the pupil than would many, for as Blake is one of the -most imaginative of English writers, his conceptions are the more -subtle and profound. A class, moreover, cannot be treated always with -the same deliberation as that which is natural in the case of a single -child; but the essential principle, I believe, is the same everywhere. - - - - -IX - -EDUCATIONAL - - -Educational in the broadest sense must anything be which is -inspirational; for to interest the child in literature, to make him -enter into it as into a charming heritage, is more truly to educate -him than would be any pedantic or formal instruction whatever. I have -used the term specifically, however, as a convenient word by which -to designate that form of instruction which is more deliberately -and formally an effort to make clear what literature may be held to -teach. To regard any work of art as directly and didactically teaching -anything is perhaps to fail in so far to treat it as art; but the -point which such a consideration raises is too deep for our present -inquiry, and may be disregarded except in the case of unintelligent -attempts to make every tale or poem embody and convey a set moral. To -endeavor to aid pupils to perceive fully the relation of what they read -to themselves and to the society in which they live is part of the -legitimate work of the teacher of literature. In a word, while the term -is perhaps not the best, I have used the word educational to designate -such study as is directed to helping the student to gain from books a -wider knowledge of life and human nature. - -It is not my idea that in actual practice a formal division is -to be made, and still less that what I have called inspirational -consideration of literature is ever to be discontinued. In the growth -of a child's mind comes naturally a simple and unreflecting pleasure -in literature, beginning, as has been said, with unsophisticated -delight in the marked rhythms of Mother Goose or in the wholesome joy -of the fairy-story. To this is gradually added an equally unreflecting -absorption of certain ideas concerning life, which by slow degrees -gives place to reflection conscious and deliberate. The delight and the -unconscious yielding to the influence of the work of art remain, and to -the end they are more effective than any deliberate and conscious ideas -can be. Nothing that we teach our pupils about a poem can compare in -influence with what they absorb without realizing what they are doing. -One of the great dangers of this whole matter is that we shall hurry -them from an instinctive to a cultivated attitude toward literature; -that we shall replace natural and healthful pleasure by laborious and -conscientious study. In dealing with any piece of real literature the -wise method, it seems to me, is to take it up first for the absolute, -straightforward emotional enjoyment.[110:1] It is of very little use -to study any work which the children have not first come to care for. -After they see why a piece is worth while from the point of view of -pleasure, then study may go further and consider what is the core of -the work intellectually and emotionally. - -In speaking of treating literature educationally I do not refer to -that sort of instruction which so generally and unfortunately takes -the place of the true study of masterpieces. The history of a poem or -a drama, the biography of authors, and all work of this sort should -in any case be kept subordinate and should generally, I believe, -come after the student has at least a tolerable idea and a fair -appreciation of the writings themselves. What is important and what I -mean by the educational treatment of literature is the development of -those general truths concerning human nature and human feeling which -form the tangible thought of a play or poem. The line of distinction -between this and the less tangible ideas which are conveyed by form, -by melody, by suggestion,—the ideas, in short, which are the secret -of the inspirational effect of a work,—cannot be sharply drawn. Many -of the tangible ideas will have been obvious in the reading of which -the recognized purpose has been mere delight and inspiration; and on -the other hand the two classes of ideas are so closely interwoven that -it is not possible, even were it advisable, to separate them entirely. -It is possible, however, after the pupil has come to take pleasure in -a work,—though it should never be attempted sooner,—to go on to the -deliberate study of the intellectual content, and to take up broad and -general truths. - -One way of preparing a class for the work which is now to be done -is to speak to them of literature as a sort of high kind of algebra; -to let them see, that is, how the distinction between the great mass -of reading-matter and what is fairly to be called literature is not -unlike the difference with which they are familiar in mathematics -between arithmetic and the higher grade of work which comes after. The -newspaper, the text-book, the history, the scientific treatise all -deal with the concrete, just as arithmetic has to do with absolute -quantities. In the mental development of the pupil the time comes when -he is considered sufficiently advanced to go on from the handling of -concrete things to the dealing with the abstract. When he is able to -understand the relation between the sum paid for one bushel of wheat -and the amount needed to purchase fifty, he may be advanced to the lore -of general formulæ, and be made to understand how _x_ may represent -any price and _y_ any number of bushels. In the same way from reading -in a newspaper the story of the assassination of the late King of -Servia, the concrete case, he may go on to read "Macbeth," wherein -Duncan represents any monarch of given character, and Macbeth not a -particular, actual, concrete assassin, but a murderer of a sort, a -type, the general or abstract character. The student has gone on from -the particular to the general; from the concrete to the abstract; from -the arithmetic of human nature to its algebra. - -A similar comparison between history and poetry is on the same grounds -easily to be made between the history lesson and the chronicle plays -of Shakespeare. The student who in his nursery days started out with -the instinctive question in regard to the fairy-tale: "Is it true?" -begins to perceive the difference between literal and essential truth. -He perceives that verity in literature is not simple and obvious -fidelity to the specific fact or event; he learns to appreciate that -the truth of art, like the truth of algebra, lies in its accuracy -in representing truth in the abstract: he comes to appreciate the -narrowness of the nursery question, which asked only for the literal -fact, and he begins to comprehend something of the symbolic. - -An excellent illustration for practical use is a poem like "How they -Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix." Any live, wholesome boy is -sure to tingle with the swing and fervor of the verse, the sense of -the open air, the excitement, the doubt, the hope, the joyful climax. -It is easy to lead the class on to consider how exhilarating such an -experience would be, and to go on from this to point out that the -poem does not describe a literal, actual occurrence; but that it is a -generalized expression of the zest and exhilaration of a superb, all -but impossible ride, with the added excitement of being responsible for -the freedom or even the lives of the folk of a whole city. - -The first feeling of the class on learning that such a ride was not -taken is sure to be one of disappointment. It is better to meet -this frankly, and to compensate for it by arousing interest in the -embodiment of abstract feeling. One great source of the lack of -interest in literature at the present time is that the material, -practical character of the age makes it difficult for the general -reader to respect anything but the concrete fact. Literature is apt to -present itself to the hard-headed young fellow of the public school -as a lot of make-believe stuff, and therefore at best a matter of -rather frivolous amusement. The surest way of correcting this common -attitude of mind is to nourish the appreciation of what fact in art -really means; to cultivate a clear perception of how a poem or a tale -may be the truest thing in the world, although dealing with imaginary -personages and with incidents which never happened.[114:1] - -As an illustration of the sense in which literature is a sort of -algebra of human feeling somewhat more remote from the ordinary life -of a child may be taken another poem of Browning's, "The Lost Leader." -My experience is that most youth of the school age start out by being -able to make little or nothing of this. By a little talk, however, -beginning perhaps as simply as with the way in which a lad feels when -a school-fellow he had faith in has failed in a crisis, has for some -personal advantage gone over to the other party in a school election, -or of how the class would feel if some teacher who had been with the -students in some effort to obtain an extension of privilege to which -the scholars felt themselves to be honestly entitled had for his -own purposes swung over to the opposite side, the whole thing may be -brought home. The boys may be led on to imagine what are the feelings -of a youth eager for the cause of freedom and the uplifting of man, -when one whom he has looked to as a leader, one in whom he has had -absolute faith, deserts the rank for honors or for money. Once the -young minds are on the right track it is by no means impossible to -bring them to see pretty clearly that in the poem is not the question -of a particular man or a particular cause; but that Browning is dealing -with a universal expression of the pain that would come to any man, to -any one of them, in believing that the leader who had been most trusted -and revered had in reality been unworthy, and had betrayed the cause -his followers believed he would gladly die to defend. - -These two examples from Browning I have taken almost at random, and -not because they are unusual in this respect, for this quality is the -universal property of all real literature, and indeed is one of the -tests by which real literature is to be identified. Any selection which -it is worth while to give students at all must have this relation which -I have called "algebraic," but of which the true name is imaginative; -and it is certainly one of the important parts of anything which in a -high sense is properly to be called "teaching" literature to make the -scholars realize and appreciate this. - -The next step is more difficult because far more subtle; and I confess -frankly that it is all but impossible to propose methods by which -formal instruction may deal with it. The aim of literature is largely -the attempt to produce a mood. The prime aim of the poet is to induce -in the reader a state of feeling which will lead inevitably to the -reception of whatever he offers in the same mood in which he offers -it. In the simplest cases no instruction is needed, for even with -school-boys a ringing metre, to take a simple and obvious example, -has somewhat the same effect as the dashing swing of martial music; -whoever comes under its influence falls insensibly into the frame of -mind in which the ideas of the verse should be received. The thoughts -are accepted in the exhilarated spirit in which they were written, and -the effects of the metre are as great or greater than the influence of -the literal meaning. It is a commonplace to call attention to the part -which the melody of poetry or the rhythm of prose plays in the effect, -but how to aid pupils to a responsiveness to this language of form is -not the least of the problems of the teacher. - -The means by which an author establishes or communicates his mood -do not always appeal to the young. Indeed, beyond a certain limited -extent they appeal to most adults only after careful cultivation in the -understanding of art-language. It is as idle to suppose that literature -appeals to everybody and without æsthetic education as it is to suppose -that sculpture or music will surely meet with a response everywhere. -Nobody expects Beethoven's "Ninth Symphony" or Bach's "Passion Music" -to arouse enthusiasm in accidentally assorted school-children, yet to -all the pupils in a mixed public school are offered the parallel works -of Shakespeare and Milton. Unless a class is made up of boys or girls -with unusual aptitude or wisely and carefully trained to responsiveness -to metrical effect, it seems hardly less idle to offer them "Comus" or -"Lycidas" than it would be to expect them to enjoy a classic concert. -The language of form in the higher range of literature is to them an -unknown tongue. - -Children are likely to be susceptible to marked metrical effects, as -witness their love of "Mother Goose;" but to the more delicate music -of verse they are often largely or completely insensitive. A musical -ear is not, it is probable, to be created, but it is certainly possible -to develop the metrical sense. Children who are born with good native -responsiveness to rhythm often are so badly trained or so neglected -as to seem to have none, and it is part of the office of instruction -to call out whatever powers lie in them latent. This is largely -accomplished by the sort of use of literature which I have called -"inspirational." In the ideal home-training children are so taken -on from the rhymes of the nursery to more advanced literature that -development of the rhythmical sense is continuous and inevitable; but -one of the things which every school-teacher knows best is that this -sort of home-training is rare and the work must be done in the class. -The substitute is a poor one, but it has at least some degree of the -universal human responsiveness to rhythm to appeal to. - -Another difficulty is that children have to learn the verbal language -of literature. Much of the atmosphere of a poem, for instance, is -likely to be produced by suggestion, by the mention of legend or -tale or hero, when the reader must find in previous knowledge and -association a key to what is intended. All this is likely to be -largely or entirely lost on children; and yet this is often the -very quintessence of what the author tries to convey. Children are -constantly at the same disadvantage in understanding literature that -they are in comprehending life. They have not gathered the associations -or experienced the emotions which make so large a part of the language -of great writers. All this renders it difficult for the instructor to -be sure that his class has any inkling even of the mood in which a -piece is intended; yet he must first of all be sure that as far as is -possible he has put them, each pupil according to his character and -acquirements, in touch with the spirit of the work to be studied. - -This cannot be done entirely. We cannot hope that a lad of a dozen -years will enter into all the emotions, all the passions of the great -poets. He may, however, be absorbingly interested and thrilled by -"Macbeth," or the "Tempest," or the "Merchant of Venice." He does not -get from these plays all that his elders might get, any more than he -would perceive the full meaning and passion of a tremendous situation -in real life; but he does get some portion of the message, some -perception of the deeps and heights of human nature. Even if he find no -more than simple, unreasoning enjoyment, he is gaining unconsciously, -and he is obviously nourishing a love for good literature. - -The question of what is thoroughness in school study of literature -is of much importance, and it is of no less difficulty. Certainly -it is not merely the mastery of technical obscurities of language, -the solving of philological puzzles, or the careful examination of -historical facts. Thoroughness in these things, as has already been -said, may be exactness in learning about literature, but not in the -study of literature itself. Consideration of the average acquirements -of pupils in secondary schools makes it fairly evident, it seems to -me, that the study of technique in any of its phases cannot in these -classes be carried very far without the danger of its degenerating into -the most lifeless formalism; and perhaps in nothing else is the tact -and judgment of the teacher so well shown as in the decision how far it -is wise to carry study along particular lines. I have never encountered -a class even in my college work which I could have set to the subjects -recommended in a book for teachers of literature which advises drilling -the students of the high school on the relations in the plays of -Shakespeare "of metre to character," whatever that may mean. Neither -should I set them to distinguish, as is advised by another text-book, -between "the kinds of imagination employed: (_a_) Modifying; (_b_) -Reconstructive; (_c_) Poetical: creative, imperative, or associative." -I could not, indeed, do much with such subjects, from the simple fact -that I do not myself know what such questions mean, and still less -could I answer them. Each instructor, however, must decide for himself, -and with every class decide anew. No fixed standard can be established, -but each case must be settled on its own merits. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[110:1] The vocabulary, of course, being known before the text is -attempted. - -[114:1] See page 221. - - - - -X - -EXAMINATIONAL - - -Examinations are at present held to be an essential part of the -machinery of education, and whether we do or do not believe this to -be true, we are as teachers forced to accept them. Especially is it -incumbent on teachers in the secondary schools to pay much attention to -accustoming pupils to these ordeals and to preparing them to go through -them unscathed. Many instructors, as has been said already, become so -completely the slaves to this process that they confine their efforts -to it entirely, and few are able to prevent its taking undue importance -in their work and in the minds of their pupils. - -The general principle should be kept in mind that no examination is of -real value for itself in the training of youth, and that to study for -it directly and explicitly is fatal to all the higher uses of the study -of literature or of anything else. Tests of proficiency and advancement -are necessary, but they should be regarded as tests, and no pains -should be spared to impress upon every student the fact that beyond -this office of measuring attainment they are of no value whatever. - -Examinations exist, however, and nothing which can be done directly is -likely to remove from the minds of sub-freshmen the notion that they -study literature largely if not solely for the sake of being able to -struggle successfully with the difficulties of entrance papers. The -only means of combating this idea is the indirect method of making -the study interesting in and for itself; of nourishing a love for -great writings and fostering appreciation of masterpieces. It may be -added, moreover, that this is also the surest way of securing ease and -proficiency on just those lines in which it is the ambition of pedantic -teachers to have their pupils excel. Classes are more effectively -trained for college tests by teaching them to think, to examine for -themselves, to have real responsiveness and feeling for literature, -than they can possibly be by any drill along formal lines. Here as -pretty generally in life the indirect is the surest. - -More is done in the way of preparation for any rational examination, -I believe, by training youth to recognize good literature and to -realize what makes it good, than by any amount of deliberate drill of -especially prescribed works or laborious following out of the lines -indicated by old examination-papers. Much of this is effected by what -has been spoken of as inspirational teaching, the simple training -of children to have real enjoyment of the best. In the lower grades -of school this is all that can be profitably attempted. Before the -student leaves the secondary school, however, he should be able for -himself to make in a general way an application of the principles which -underlie literary distinctions. He should be able broadly to recognize -the qualities which belong to the best work. He should be able from -personal experience to appreciate the force of the remarks of De -Quincey: - - What is it that we mean by literature? Popularly, and amongst - the thoughtless, it is held to include everything that is - printed in a book. Little logic is required to disturb this - definition. The most thoughtless person is easily made aware - that in the idea of literature one essential element is some - relation to a general and common interest of man, so that what - applies only to a local or professional or merely personal - interest, even though presenting itself in the shape of a book, - will not belong to literature. . . . Men have so little - reflected on the higher functions of literature as to - find it a paradox if one should describe it as a mean or - subordinate purpose of books to give information. But this is - a paradox only in the sense which makes it honorable to be - paradoxical. . . . What do you learn from "Paradise Lost"? - Nothing at all. What do you learn from a cookery-book? - Something new, something you did not know before, in - every paragraph. But would you therefore put the wretched - cookery-book on a higher level of estimation than the divine - poem? What you owe to Milton is not any knowledge, of which a - million separate items are still but a million of advancing - steps on the same earthly level; what you owe is power, that - is, exercise and expansion to your own latent capacity of - sympathy with the infinite, where each pulse and each separate - influx is a step upward, a step ascending as upon a Jacob's - ladder from earth to mysterious altitudes above the earth. - All the steps of knowledge, from first to last, carry you - further on the same plane, but could never raise you one foot - above your ancient level of earth; whereas the very first step - in power is a flight, is an ascending movement into another - element where earth is forgotten.—"The Poetry of Pope." - -If a boy or girl has any vital and personal perception of the truth -which is here so eloquently set forth, this perception affords a -certain criterion by which to judge whatever work comes to hand. It -will also give both the inclination and the power to judge rightly, so -that anything which an examination-paper may legitimately ask is in so -far within the scope of ordinary thought. - -I have ventured, in another chapter, to give some idea of the way -in which I think such a work as "Macbeth" might be treated in -the secondary school. I wish to emphasize the fact that it is an -illustration and not a model. It is the way in which I should do it; -but the teaching of literature, I repeat, is naught if it is not marked -by the personality of the teacher. Of the results to be aimed at one -need not be in doubt; concerning the methods there are and there should -be as many opinions as there are sound and individual instructors. This -illustration I have included because it may serve as a sort of diagram -to make plain things which can only clumsily be presented otherwise, -and because I hope that it may be suggestive even to teachers who -differ widely from this exact method. - -What is aimed at in this manner of treating the play is primarily -the enjoyment of the pupil, secondarily the broadening of his -mind, and thirdly the training of his powers for the examinations -inevitably lying in wait for him. It may seem contradictory that I -put pleasure first and yet would begin with straightforward drill on -the vocabulary. Such training, however, is preparatory to the taking -up of literature, I believe it necessary to the best results, and -I have already said that to my mind no need exists for making this -dull. Even if it be looked upon as simple drudgery, however, I should -not shirk it. Children should be taught that they are to meet hard -work pluckily. They cannot evade the multiplication-table without -subsequent inconvenience, and the sooner they realize that this is true -in principle all through life, the better for them. Their enjoyment, -moreover, will be tenfold greater if they earn it by sturdy work. - -It would be well, I believe, if all teachers in the secondary -schools who are in the habit of concerning themselves largely with -examinations and of allowing the minds of those under them to become -fixed on these could realize that readers of blue-books are sure to -be favorably impressed by two things: by the expression of thoughts -obviously individual, and by the evidence of clear thinking. If these -two qualities characterize an examination-book, the chances of its -passing muster are so large that exact formal knowledge counts for -little in comparison. All teachers who are intelligently in earnest -try to put as little stress on examinations as is possible under -existing conditions, but not all keep clearly in mind the fact that -the best remedy for possible harm is the cultivation of the student's -individuality. - -The question of written work in preparation for entrance tests is -a difficult one, and it is one which has been largely answered by -the papers set by the colleges. It is natural that teachers who are -entirely aware that their own reputations will largely depend upon the -success of the candidates they send up should endeavor to train their -classes in the especial line of writing which seems best to suit the -ideas of examiners. The principle of selection is not, it seems to me, -a sound one, but it is inevitable. The one thing which may be done is -to make the topics selected as human and as personal as possible: to -insist that the boy or girl who is writing of Lady Macbeth or Hamlet -shall make the strongest effort possible to realize the character as -a real being; shall as far as possible take the attitude of writing -concerning some actual person about whom are known the facts set down -in the play. This is less difficult than it sounds, and while it is -never entirely possible for a child to realize Lady Macbeth as if she -were a neighbor, most children can go much farther in this direction -than is generally appreciated. - -Themes retelling the plot of novel or play are seldom satisfactory. -Satisfactorily to summarize the story of a work of any length requires -more literary grasp than can possibly be expected in a secondary -school. It is far better to set the wits of children to work to fill up -gaps of time in the stories as they are originally written; to imagine -what Macbeth and his wife had said to each other before he goes to the -chamber of Duncan in the second act, for instance, or the talk between -Silas Marner and Eppie after the visit in which Godfrey Cass disclosed -himself as the girl's father. These are not easy subjects, and it is -not to be expected that the grade of work produced will be high, but it -is at least likely to be original and genuine. - -Description is a snare into which it is easy for teacher or pupil -to fall. It generally means the more or less conscious imitation of -passages from the reading, or a sort of crazy-quilt of scraps in which -sentences of the author are clumsily pieced together. In the highest -grades good work may sometimes be obtained by asking pupils to describe -the setting of a scene in a play, but this is far too difficult for -most classes. - -Examination of character, of situations, or of motives affords the best -opportunity for written work in connection with literary study. To make -literary study subordinate to the practice of composition is manifestly -wrong, yet in many schools this is done in practice even if it is not -justified in theory. Children should be taught to write by other means -than by themes in connection with the masterpieces of literature. The -old cry against using "Paradise Lost," and the soliloquies of Hamlet -as exercises in parsing might well be repeated with added emphasis of -the modern fashion of making Shakespeare and Milton mere adjuncts to a -course in composition. The written work is, of course, to be corrected -where it is faulty, but its chief purpose should never be anything -outside of the better understanding and appreciation of the authors -read. - -In a brief, sensible pamphlet on "Methods of Teaching of Novels" May -Estelle Cook remarks: - - There is another point which I should like to make for the - study of character, though with some hesitation, since there - is room for great difference of opinion about it. It is this: - that the study of character leads directly to the exercise of - the moral instinct. Whether we like it or not, it is true that - the school-boy—even the boy, and much more the girl—will - raise the question, "Is it right?" and "Is it wrong?" and - that we must either answer or ignore these questions. My own - feeling about it is that this irrepressible moral instinct - was included by Providence partly for the purpose of making a - special diversion in favor of the English teacher. . . . A boy - will read scenes in "Macbeth" through a dozen times for the - sake of deciding whether Macbeth or Lady Macbeth was chiefly - responsible for the murder of Duncan, when he will read them - only once for the story; and this extra zeal is not so much - because he wants to satisfy a craving for facts, as because he - enjoys fixing praise or blame. . . . My experience with the Sir - Roger de Coverley papers has been that the class failed to get - any imaginative grasp of them until I frankly appealed to the - moral instinct by asking, "What did Addison mean to teach in - this paper?" "Did the Eighteenth Century need that lesson?" and - "Do we still need it?" By that process the class have finally - reached a grasp of Sir Roger which has given them fortitude to - write a theme on "Sir Roger at an Afternoon Tea." - -My own definition of imagination is evidently not that of the writer, -and I am not able to agree that this appeal to the moral instinct -develops anything other than an intellectual understanding; but that -point is unimportant here. The thing which is to be noted is that -on the moral side children may be able to think intelligently and -individually in regard to the characters and the situations of the -plays and the novels read. The teacher, in choosing such subjects for -written work, must, of course, be careful to avoid topics which have -already been considered in the book itself. In a novel by George Eliot, -for instance, all possible moral issues are likely to be so discussed -and rediscussed by the novelist as to leave little room for the -thought of the reader to exercise itself independently; but in all the -plays of Shakespeare, and in the fiction of most of the masters, the -opportunities are ample. - -The supreme test of any subject which is to be given to students in -their written work is whether it is one upon which it is reasonable -to suppose they can and will have thought which is individual and -therefore original. If it were necessary to make nice distinctions -between that which is and that which is not legitimately part of the -study of literature as an art, one must go much further than this. The -writing of themes, however, is part of the examinational side of the -work; the main thing is to be sure that it is not dwelt upon more -than is necessary, and that it is within the range of the personal -experience of the student. If teachers feel compelled to set their -classes to write formal and lifeless themes on pedantic topics such -as too often appear in examination-papers, they will do well to keep -in mind that this is not the study of literature, but a stultifying -process which lessens the power of appreciation and replaces -intelligent comprehension by mechanical imitation. - - * * * * * - -In connection with the subject of this chapter I may mention a -device which may not be without practical value in secondary-school -examinations. It affords a means of discovering how well the student -is succeeding in grasping general principles and in making actual -application of them; while at the same time it should impress upon him -the fact that he is not studying merely a series of required readings, -but the nature and qualities of literature. - -On an examination-paper in second-year English at the Institute of -Technology was put this test: - - It is assumed that the student has never read the following - extract. State what seem its excellent points (_a_) of - workmanship; (_b_) of thought; (_c_) of imagination. - -To this was added a brief extract from some standard author. - -The opening statement was made in order that the class should -understand the selection to be not from any required reading, but from -some work presumably entirely unfamiliar. The points of excellence only -were asked for in order to fix attention on merits; and indirectly -to strengthen, so far as might be, the perception of the importance -of looking in literature for merits rather than for defects. It is -undoubtedly proper that scholars should be able to perceive defects, -but this power is best trained by educating them to be sensitive and -responsive to excellencies.[131:1] - -The necessities of time made it impossible to put upon the papers of -which I am speaking extracts of much length, and the class were told -that not much was expected in comment upon the thought expressed. -The purpose of the question, that of seeing how intelligently they -were able to apply such principles as they had learned, was also -frankly put. They were warned against generalities and statements -unsupported. Then they were left to their own devices. The results -were all suggestive, and of course were of widely varying degrees of -merit. A few samples may be given, chosen, I confess, from those more -interesting. On one paper were the opening lines of the second book of -"Paradise Lost." - - High on a throne of royal state, which far - Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, - Or where the gorgeous east with richest hand - Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold, - Satan exalted sat. - -Among the comments were these: - - Of the workmanship of this selection we may say that it is - good. The selection of words is especially forcible. "Gorgeous - east" and "richest hand" are extremely so. But what I consider - a fine use of a word is the word "barbaric." Here we can see - the early inhabitants of the uncivilized rich countries of the - east; the inhabitants ignorant of the value of their wealth, - throwing it around as we would the pebbles on a beach. The - thought and the imagination are good. We can see before us the - vividly portrayed picture. There sits Satan high above his - surrounding in such rich and dazzling magnificence that it - outshines even the richest kings of the richest part of the - world. - - * * * * * - - The best point of the workmanship consists in placing the - description first and not completing the thought until the last - line; thus keeping the reader in suspense, and causing careful - attention to be put on all the sentence. The words "high," - "throne," "royal," and "exalted" combine to bring out the - thought of Satan's majesty. The thought of unbounded wealth is - brought out by the use of the word "showers" in the third line. - The author is able to give us a much more vivid idea of the - magnificence of the throne by letting us construct the throne - to suit ourselves than by giving a detailed description and - leaving nothing to the imagination. Even the materials are only - suggested, the whole idea being one of unbounded wealth and - splendor. - - * * * * * - - The choice of words is one of the best points in the - workmanship of the quotation. The arrangement also adds - emphasis. All the descriptions of the throne are so vivid that - the mind is deeply impressed by the splendor and richness of - the throne. The "gorgeous east" is very expressive of wealth - and beauty. With this arrangement of words the piece becomes - very striking and the choice of the strongest words is shown - too in touch with the whole sentence. Whereas on the other hand - if any other arrangement had been used much of the force of - these words would have been lost. The thought of the extract - is to describe the great wealth and beauty with which Satan is - surrounded. The writer must have a very vivid imagination to - describe such a scene of wealth and beauty. The first word, - "High," appeals directly to the imagination and immediately - gives the impression of power. - -These answers were written by boys who had not been called upon to do -anything of the sort before, and while their inadequacy is evident -enough, they are genuine, and are sound as far as they go. Of course, -after such a test, the first business of the teacher is to go over the -selection and to show how he would himself have answered the question. -The class is then ready to appreciate qualities which might be recited -to them in vain before they have set their minds to the problem. In -the examples I have given no one has touched, for instance, upon the -suggestiveness of the words "Ormus" and "Ind," but very little is -needed to make them see this after they have had the passage in an -examination-paper. - -A couple of examples dealing with the first two stanzas of Byron's -"Destruction of Sennacherib" may be given by way of showing how a -different selection was treated. - - The first thing I noticed in reading the extract was the - perfect rhythm. You cannot read the extract without wanting - to say it aloud. Then the choice of words struck me: "The - _sheen_ of their spears;" "when summer is _green_." It is hard - for me to distinguish workmanship, thought, and imagination. - I cannot tell whether the words and metaphors used in the - extract were the result of deliberate choice and of long - thought; but I strongly suspect that he saw the whole thing in - his imagination, and the words just came to him. It is hard - to understand how anything that reads so smoothly could have - been written with labor. The strongest point of the extract - seems to be its richness in illustration: "The Assyrian came - down like the wolf on the fold." No long, detailed description - could explain better the wildness of such an attack, the sudden - swoop of some half-barbaric horde, striking suddenly, and then - disappearing into the night. "The sheen of the spears was like - stars on the sea." The flash from a spear would be just such a - gleam as the reflected star from the crest of a wave, visible - for a moment and then gone. - - * * * * * - - Some of its excellent points of workmanship are melody and - selection of words. The melody is excellent. It has a soothing - effect when read aloud, and there is not a place where - one would hesitate in regard to the accenting of words. I - believe the melody is so good that a person only knowing the - pronunciation of the first line could almost read the rest - of it correctly because the sound of each line is so closely - connected with that of all other lines. The selection of words - is very good. There is not a place where a substitution could - be made which would improve the meaning, sense, or melody. The - extract shows great thought. In the last paragraph especially - where the Assyrians are compared to the leaves of summer and - in autumn. No better thought could bring out more clearly how - badly the host was defeated. In the first paragraph it also - compares the Assyrians to a wolf coming down upon a fold. - This again gives a definite idea, and seems to point out how - confident they were of victory. The imagination is very vivid. - You can almost think you were on the field and that all the - events were taking place before you. - -I have copied these partly to emphasize the point that it is idle to -expect too much, and partly to illustrate the form in which genuine -perception is likely to work out upon a school examination-paper. These -have not been chosen as the best papers written, but each is good -because each shows sincere opinion. - -This sort of question is of course in the line of what is constantly -done in class, but it is after all a different thing when it is made -to emphasize the idea that an examination is a test of the power to -appreciate literature instead of an exercise of memory. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[131:1] See page 205. - - - - -XI - -THE STUDY OF PROSE - - -Method in teaching is properly the adaptation of the personality of -a given teacher to the personality of a given class. It cannot be -defined by hard and fast rules, and the only value in presenting such -illustrations as the following is that they may afford hints which -teachers will be able with advantage to develop in terms of their own -individuality. The way that is wise in one is never to be set down as -the way best for another; and here as elsewhere I offer not a model -but simply an illustration. If it suggest, it has fulfilled a better -purpose than if it were taken blindly as a rigid guide. - -My own feeling would be that classes in literature should be provided -with nothing but the bare text, without notes of any kind unless with -a glossary of terms not to be found in available books of reference. -In the matter of looking up difficulties the books of reference in the -school library should be used; and if the school has no library beyond -the dictionary, I should still hold to my opinion. The vocabulary may -be very largely worked out with any fairly comprehensive dictionary, -and what cannot be discovered in this way is better taken _viva voce_ -in recitation than swallowed from notes without even the trouble of -asking. Much will be done, moreover, by the not unhealthy spirit of -emulation which is sure to exist where the pupils are set to use their -wits and to report the result in class. They will remember much better; -and, what in general education is of the very first importance, they -will have admirable practice in the use of books of reference. Many -difficulties must be explained by the teacher; but this, I insist, is -better than the following of notes, a habit which is sure to degenerate -into lifeless memorizing. The model text for school use would be -cut in those few passages not suited for the school-room, would be -clearly printed, and would be as free as possible from any outside -matter whatever. In the case of poetry the ideal method would be to -keep the text out of the hands of the student altogether until all -work necessary to the mastering of the vocabulary had been done: but -in practice such voluntary reading as a pupil chose to do beforehand -would do no harm other than possibly to distract his attention from -the learning of the meaning of words and phrases. In prose he will -generally be in a key which allows the interruption of a pause for -looking up words without much injury to the effect of the work. - -The study of prose is of course directed by the same principles as that -of poetry, but the application is in school-work somewhat modified -in details. In the first place the vocabulary of any prose used -in the schools is not likely to contain obsolete words such as are -found in Shakespeare, and in the second place the length of a novel -forbids its being read aloud in class in its entirety. I have taken my -illustrations chiefly from books included in the College Requirements, -because these books are the ones with which the majority of teachers -are obliged to work. The Sir Roger de Coverley papers are sure to -be taken up in any school-room where literature is studied to-day, -and Burke "On Conciliation" is one of the inevitable obstacles in -the way of every boy who wishes to enter college. Whatever the work, -however, the important thing is that each pupil shall understand, shall -appreciate, and shall connect what he reads with his own life. - -The order in which different works are taken up in class is a matter -of much moment. No rules can be given arbitrarily to govern the -arrangement of the readings, since much depends upon the individual -class to be dealt with. On general principles, for instance, it might -seem that Burke's "Speech," as being the least imaginative of the -prescribed work, might well come first; but on the other hand, the -argument demands intellectual capacity and maturity which will often -require that it be not put before a given group of scholars until they -have had all the training they can gain from the other requirements. -A teacher can hardly afford to have any rule in the whole treatment -of literature which is not so flexible that it may be modified or -disregarded entirely when circumstances require. The ideal method, -perhaps, would be to give a class first a few short pieces as tests, -and then to arrange their longer work upon the basis of the result. - -If the "Speech" is to be taken up first or last, it must be preceded by -a clear understanding of the history of the conditions with which Burke -dealt. This knowledge should have been obtained in the history class, -and the use of facts obtained in another branch affords one of the -opportunities for doing that useful thing which should be kept always -in sight, the enforcing of the fact that all education is one, although -for convenience of handling necessarily divided into various branches. -If the class has not had the requisite instruction in history, the -teacher of English is forced to pause and supply the deficiency, as -it is hopeless to try to go on without it. The argument of Burke is -pretty tough work for any class of high-school students, and without -familiarity with the circumstances which called it forth is utterly -unintelligible. - -The vocabulary of Burke contains few words which need to be studied -beforehand, and indeed it is perhaps better to treat the speech as -so far a logical rather than an imaginative work that without other -preparation than a thorough mastery of the circumstances under which -it was delivered and of the political issues with which it dealt the -class may be given the text directly. In the first reading the thing -to be insured is the intelligent comprehension of the language and of -the argument. In the first half-dozen paragraphs, for instance, such -passages as these must be made perfectly clear: - - I hope, Sir, that notwithstanding the austerity of the Chair, - your good nature will incline you to some degree of indulgence - toward human frailty. - - The grand penal bill. - - Returned to us from the other House. - - We are not at all embarrassed (unless we please to make - ourselves so) by any incongruous mixture of coercion and - restraint. - - From being blown about by every wind of fashionable doctrine. - -This is clear enough in meaning, but the class should notice the -suggestion of the biblical phrase which insinuates that a good deal of -the political fluctuation which has complicated the question of the -treatment of the colonies has been like the hysterical instability of -those who run after every fresh eccentricity offered in the name of -religion. - - I really did not think it safe or manly to have fresh - principles to seek upon every fresh mail that should arrive - from America. - - It is in your equity to judge. - - Parliament, having an enlarged view of objects. - - A situation which I will not miscall, which I dare not name. - - That the public tribunal (never too indulgent to a long and - unsuccessful opposition) would now scrutinize our conduct with - unusual severity. - - We must produce our hand. - - Somewhat disreputably. - -The whole oration is studded with passages such as these, and it is -the habit of too many instructors to expect the student to depend upon -notes for the solution of such difficulties. I have already indicated -that I believe this to be an unwise and weakening process; and in a -political document of this sort a drill for elucidating difficulties -may well be undertaken when in an imaginative work more latitude may be -allowed in the way of sliding over them. - -The reading of the speech as a whole could hardly be attempted with any -profit until the class has mastered its technicalities and its logic. -The oration differs in this from more imaginative literature. Here it -is not only proper but necessary to make analysis part of the first -reading. - -The class should for itself make a summary of the speech as it goes -forward. For each paragraph should be devised a single sentence which -gives clearly and concisely the thought, so that at the conclusion a -complete skeleton shall have been made. Each student should make these -sentences for himself as part of his preparation of a lesson, and from -a comparison in the class the final form may be selected. Some of the -school editions do this admirably, but one of two things seems to me -indisputable: either the "Speech" is too difficult for students to -handle or they should make their own summaries. To do this part of the -work for them is to deprive the study of its most valuable element. -The best justification such a selection can have for its inclusion -in the list of required books is that it may fairly be used for this -careful analytical work without prejudice to the effect of the piece as -a whole. In other words, no objection exists to treating this especial -selection first from the purely intellectual point of view. To consider -a play of Shakespeare first intellectually would seem to me utterly -wrong; but this argument of Burke is intentionally addressed to the -reason rather than to the imagination, and would therefore logically be -so read. - -Beside the mere interpretation of difficult passages, the pupil should -be made to discern and to weigh the value and effect of the admirable -sentences in which the orator has condensed whole trains of logic. - - The concessions of the weak are the concessions of fear. - - A wise and salutary neglect. - - The power of refusal, the first of all revenues. - - The voluntary flow of heaped-up plenty. - - All government—indeed, every human benefit and enjoyment, - every virtue and every prudent act—is founded on compromise - and barter. - -The study of phrases of this sort is admirable training for the -reasoning faculties of the scholar, it educates the powers of reading, -and it may be made a continuous lesson in the nature and value of -literary technique. Of this study of literary workmanship I shall speak -later; here it is sufficient to point the necessity at once and the -advantage of dwelling on these vital thoughts so admirably expressed. - -By the time the oration has been gone through with, and a summary of -each paragraph made in the class, a skeleton is ready from which the -argument may be considered as a whole. In some schools students will be -able to criticise from an historical point of view, and any intelligent -boy to whom the oration is given for study should be able to judge of -the logic of the plea. - -If the "Speech" is to justify its claim to being literature in the -higher sense, however, it is not possible to stop with the intellectual -study. The question of what constitutes literature is better taken up, -it seems to me, near the end of the course of secondary work, if it is -to come in at all; but preparation for dealing with that question must -come all along the line. When Burke has been studied for his political -meanings, his argument summed up and examined, the intellectual force -of the parts and of the whole sufficiently considered, then it is -necessary to look at the imaginative qualities of the work. - -I would never set children to examine any piece of prose or verse for -any qualities until I was sure they understood what they are to look -for. If they are to examine the oration for imaginative passages, -they must first know clearly what an imaginative passage is. Here the -previous training of the class is to be reckoned with. Some classes -must be taught the significance of the term "imaginative" by having -the passages pointed out to them and then analyzed; others are so far -advanced as to be able to discover them. The thing I wish to emphasize -is that when the simply intellectual study has progressed far enough, -the imaginative must follow. Passages which may be used here are such -as these: - - My plan . . . does not propose to fill your lobby with - squabbling colony agents, who will require the interposition - of your mace at every instant to keep peace among them. It - does not institute a magnificent auction of finance, where - captivated provinces come to general ransom by bidding against - each other, until you knock down the hammer, and determine a - proportion of payments beyond all powers of algebra to equalize - and settle. - - * * * * * - - Such is the strength with which population shoots in that part - of the world, that, state the numbers as high as we will, - whilst the dispute continues, the exaggeration ends. - - * * * * * - - Look at the manner in which the people of New England have of - late carried on the whale fishery. Whilst we follow them among - the tumbling mountains of ice, and behold them penetrating into - the deepest frozen recesses of Hudson Bay and Davis Strait, - whilst we are looking for them beneath the Arctic Circle, we - hear that they have pierced into the opposite region of polar - cold, that they are at the antipodes and engaged under the - frozen Serpent of the south. Falkland Island, which seemed - too remote and romantic an object for the grasp of national - ambition, is but a stage and resting-place in the progress of - their victorious industry. Nor is the equinoctial heat more - discouraging to them than the accumulated winter of both poles. - We know that while some of them draw the line and strike the - harpoon on the coast of Africa, others run the longitude and - pursue their gigantic game along the coast of Brazil. No sea - but is vexed by their fisheries. No climate that is not witness - of their toils. - - * * * * * - - A people who are still, as it were, but in the gristle, and not - yet hardened into the bone of manhood. - -Passages of this sort are frequent in the speech, and it is not -difficult to make the pupils not only recognize them, but appreciate -the quality which distinguishes them from the matter-of-fact statements -of figures, statistics, or other necessary information. - -A step further is to make the class see how the imagination shows in a -passage like the famous sentence: - - I do not know the method of drawing up an indictment against a - whole people. - -These dozen or so words may profitably be made the subject for an -entire lesson, and if this seem a proportionately extravagant amount -of time to give to a single line, I can only say that to do one thing -thoroughly is not only better than to do a score superficially, but in -the long run it is economy of time as well. If the class can be led to -discuss the meaning of the phrase, and the principles upon which Burke -rested the argument which is behind this superb proposition, not only -will the hour have been well spent in developing the ideas of the -students, but the whole oration will be wonderfully illuminated. When -to this is added an adequate understanding of the imaginative grasp -which seizes the personality of a whole nation, perceives its majesty, -its sovereignty, and the impossibility of arraigning it before the bar -like a criminal, the student is getting the best that the study of the -oration can give him. - -Written work should be kept within the limits of the capability of -the individual pupil to think intelligently. Perhaps the best means -of enforcing upon a class the vigor of Burke's style at once and the -completeness of the oration as a whole is that of requiring from each -an expression, as clear and as exact as possible, of just what the -orator wished to effect, and an estimate, as critical as the pupil is -capable of making, of how the means employed were especially adapted -to carry out his purpose. Such work will be useless if the teacher -does the reasoning, but much may be elicited by skilful leading in -recitation, and after the scholars have done all that they can do, the -instructor may add his comment. - -After the "Speech on Conciliation" may reasonably come, if the required -list of readings is being followed, the "Sir Roger de Coverley Papers." -Here one deals with work more deliberately imaginative. Preparation -for taking up these essays should begin with a brief account of the -"Spectator" and of the circumstances under which they were written. The -less elaborate this is the better, so long as it serves the purpose of -giving the class some notion of the point of view; and indeed it is to -be doubted whether as a matter of fact any great harm would be done if -even this were omitted. What is needed is to interest the class in the -work, and facts about times and circumstances seldom effect much real -good in this study. - -The vocabulary will give little trouble. It is well to be sure that -the readers understand beforehand such words as may be rather remote -from daily speech. In the account of the club (March 2, 1710-11), -for instance, the list given out for test might include such terms -as these: baronet, country-dance, shire, humor, modes, Soho-square, -quarter-sessions, game-act. In the first paragraph, from which these -words are taken, are also two or three phrases which should be familiar -before the reading is undertaken: "never dressed afterward," "in -his merry humors," "rather beloved than esteemed," and "justice of -the quorum." The historical allusions, as represented by the names -Lord Rochester, Sir George Etherege, and Dawson, go also into this -preliminary study. - -The paper should be first read as a whole, with no other interruption -than may come in the form of questions from the class. The teacher -should make no effort at anything here but intelligent reading. Then -the paper may be given out for careful study; the form of this may be -varied at the pleasure of the teacher and the needs of the class. The -presentation of character is the point to be most strongly brought -out, and this must be done delicately but as completely as possible. -The "De Coverley Papers" necessarily seem to the modern youth extremely -remote from actual life as he knows it, and the majority of Institute -students with whom I have talked admit that they found Addison very -quiet, or, in their own phrase, "slow." The characters are accordingly -apt to appear to them dim and unreal; to be hardly more alive than the -figures on an ancient tapestry. This feeling cannot be wholly overcome, -especially in the limited time which is at the command of the teacher -of school literature, yet whatever vividness of impression a reader -of the essays gets is directly proportional to the extent to which -Sir Roger and his friends emerge from the land of shadows, and seem -to the boys and girls genuine flesh and blood. The chief care of the -instructor in dealing with these papers, the aim to which everything -else should be subordinated, is to encourage and to develop the sense -of reality. The little touches by which the personality of the old -knight is shown must be dwelt upon as each appears; and in the end a -summary of these may be made as a means of stating briefly but clearly -Sir Roger's character. Constantly, too, by means homely enough to -be clearly and easily intelligible to the class, must each of these -passages be connected with the personal experiences of the children. -In the essay generally headed "Sir Roger at Home," for instance, the -author remarks: - - Sir Roger, who is very well acquainted with my humor, lets me - rise and go to bed when I please; dine at his own table, or in - my chamber, as I think fit; sit still, and say nothing, without - bidding me be merry. - -The whole situation, that of a notable man's visit to a country -squire, is utterly foreign to the pupil's probable experience. He can, -however, be made to recall occasions in which he has been considered -and his wishes consulted. He may or may not as a guest have tested -different forms of hospitality, but he easily decides how under given -circumstances he would wish to be treated. From this he is without -difficulty led to an appreciation of the consideration with which Sir -Roger was intent not upon his own wishes or the ease of his household, -but upon the pleasure of his guest. Few boys or girls can have come to -the school age without understanding what a drawback to good spirits -it is to be told to be merry, and they can appreciate the common sense -of the knight in thinking of this, and his tact in not bothering his -guest. The same thoughtful kindness is shown in the way Sir Roger -protected his lion from sightseers. Incidentally the point may be made -in passing that Addison humorously took this means of impressing on the -reader of the "Spectator" the importance of the supposed writer. - -The best preparation a teacher can make for dealing with these -essays is to get clearly into his own mind the personality, the -characteristics, even the outward appearance of each of the characters -dealt with. It is impossible to make these quiet and delicately drawn -pictures real and alive unless we have for them a genuine love and a -sense of acquaintance; and I know of no method by which in practical -work this can be communicated except by the vivifying of such passages -as that quoted above. - -Each student should bring to the class a statement of what he regards -as the chief thought in each paper as it comes up,—not the moral of -the paper, but the chief end which the writer seems to have in view, -the thought which most strongly strikes the reader. These opinions -should be talked over in class, and from them one produced which at -least the majority of the class are willing to accept. No pupil, -however, should be discouraged from holding to his own original -proposition, or from adopting a view at variance with that of the -majority. - -Always if possible,—and personally I should make it possible, even at -the sacrifice of other things,—the paper should last of all be read -as a whole without interruption. The fact should always be kept before -the minds of the pupils that the essay is not a collection of detached -facts or thoughts, but that it is a whole, and that it can fairly be -received only in its entirety. - - * * * * * - -To stretch out illustrations of the teaching of particular books would -only be tedious, and I trust I have done enough to make evident what I -believe should be the spirit of work done in the "studying" of prose -in the secondary schools. The matter is of comparative simplicity as -contrasted with the handling of poetry; and I have therefore reserved -most of my space for the latter. No one knows better than I that any -formal method is fatal to real and vital work; and what I have written -has been largely inspired by a knowledge that many instructors are at a -loss to formulate any rational method at all, while others, I am forced -sorrowfully to add, seem never even to have perceived that any method -is possible. - - - - -XII - -THE STUDY OF THE NOVEL - - -Whatever may be the entrance requirements and whatever the prescribed -course in the way of fiction, I should begin the study of the novel -with a modern book. To hold the attention of the majority of modern -children long enough for them to form any adequate idea of the quality -and characteristics of any work of the length of an ordinary novel, -long enough for them to gain an idea which conceives of the work -as a whole and not as a collection of detached scenes and scraps, -is sufficiently difficult in any case. It should not be made more -difficult by selecting as a text a book requiring effort in the -understanding of vocabulary, point of view, setting, and the rest. -"Ivanhoe" is good in its place, but it is not adapted to use as first -aid to the untrained. It is probable that a class after sufficient -experience in fiction may be able to handle "Silas Marner," and it is -apparently fated by the powers that be that they must struggle with -"The Vicar of Wakefield;" but they certainly need preliminary practice -before they are set to grapple with those fictions so remote from -their daily lives. They should begin with something as near their own -world as possible; and "Treasure Island," the scene laid in the land -of boyhood's imaginings, is an excellent example of the sort of story -which may well be used to introduce them to the serious consideration -of this branch of literature. - -A little preliminary talk may well precede the actual reading. The -teacher should be sure that the class has a fair idea of what piracy -is,—a matter generally of little difficulty,—and of the social -conditions under which the tale begins. The actual geography of the -romance need not be considered much, although students lose nothing if -they are trained to the habit of knowing accurately the location of -such real places as are named in any story; but the imaginary geography -of the tale, the topography of the island, should be well mastered. -Beyond this, the teacher should have prepared a list of words to be -learned before any reading is done. This should include all those in -the first assignment that are likely to bother the child in the first -going over of the text. In the opening chapter, for instance, such -words as these: - - Buccaneer (title of Part I). - Capstan bars. - Connoisseur. - Dry Tortugas. - Spanish Main. - Hawker. - Assizes. - -In this chapter are a couple of allusions to the costume of the time, -but as they are intelligible only when taken as sentences they may be -left for the reading in class: - - One of the cocks of his hat having fallen down. - - The neat, bright doctor, with his powder as white as snow. - -When the class comes together the vocabulary is to be taken up as a -solid and distinct task, and after that is disposed of, the text may -follow. It is generally impossible to give the time to the reading -aloud of an entire novel; but I am inclined to believe that at least -the opening chapters, the portion of the story which must be most -deliberately considered if the young reader is to go on with the tale -in full possession of the atmosphere and the characters as they are -introduced, should always be thus taken up. The portions assigned -for each lesson must be brief at first, but may wisely increase as -the interest grows and familiarity with personages and situations is -enlarged. - -The first chapter, then, having been read aloud, the class may make a -list of the characters introduced: Squire Trelawney, Dr. Livesey, the -old pirate not yet named, the father, the "I" who is telling the story. -The seaman who brings the chest and the neighbors are obviously of no -permanent importance. - -Of these characters the class should give orally so much of an -impression as they have obtained from this chapter. This is simple with -the buccaneer, fairly easy in regard to Dr. Livesey and the inn-keeper, -but more difficult in the case of the boy. The paragraph beginning: - - How that personage haunted my dreams, I need scarcely tell you— - -and the opening sentence of the following paragraph: - - But though I was so terrified by the idea of the seafaring man - with one leg, I was far less afraid of the captain himself than - anybody else who knew him— - -give admirable material for class discussion. The first should appeal -to the children, who must be made to understand that to Jim Hawkins the -one-legged seafaring man was not a mere idea, but an actual personage -for whom he was set to watch, and of whom even the terrible old Billy -Bones was mortally afraid. The second at once illustrates how the -unknown was more frightful to the lad than the veritable flesh and -blood pirate; and it shows also by excellent contrast how terrifying -the buccaneer was to the frequenters of the inn. - -For the second chapter the vocabulary would for most classes include -such words as - - Cutlass. - Talons. - Chine. - Lancet. - -The expressions which should be made clear in class would include: - - Cleared the hilt of his cutlass. - Showed a wonderfully clean pair of heels. - Fouled the tap. - Stake my wig. - Open a vein. - -This chapter has a number of delicate touches which should be brought -to the notice of the class; such as the lump in the throat of Black -Dog while he waited for the pirate in moral terror; his clever excuse -for having the door left open apparently that he might be sure Jim was -not listening, but in reality that he might have a way of escape in -case of danger; the picture of the gallows in the tattooing. - -The characters of Billy Bones and Jim are added to in the chapter, -and that of the doctor made more clear. The touch by which the boy is -made to feel compassion for the pirate when Bones turns so ghastly at -the sight of Black Dog is one which should not be missed. The story, -too, begins to develop, and the youthful reader must be unusually -insensitive if he does not speculate upon the past of Bones and upon -the relation of the pirate with Black Dog. - -It is not necessary to go on with this sort of analysis, for the method -I am detailing must be essentially that of most teachers. If the points -mentioned seem to some over-minute, I can only say that since the -aim is to teach children how to handle fiction, the task of training -them to be intelligently careful in their reading is of the first -importance. There is no risk of making them finical or too minutely -observant. This is moreover the _study_ of a novel, and it should be -more careful than reading is supposed to be. It is morally certain -that any child will fall below the standard set, and it is therefore -necessary to have the standard as high as it can be without tiring or -confusing the children. - -When the book has been gone through in this way comes the important -question of dealing with it as a whole. It would hardly be wise to ask -children directly what they think of a book as a complete work; and yet -that is the thing at which the teacher wishes to arrive. The way has -been prepared by the study of character and the discussion of incident -throughout. In the end the subject of character as it is seen from the -beginning of the tale to the close may easily lead the way to making -up some estimate of the book as a unit. First, do the persons in the -romance act consistently; second, do the incidents follow along so that -they seem really to have happened. These questions will at first have a -tendency to bewilder young readers, who are likely to accept anything -in a romance as if it were true, and to have no judgment beyond the -matter whether the book does or does not interest them. It is not to -be expected that they will go very deep or be very broad in their -dealing with such points in the case of a first novel, but they can -make a beginning. They cannot in the book in question go far in what is -the natural third question concerning a book as a whole: Does it show -clearly and truly the development of character under the circumstances -of the story. Jim Hawkins is at the end of the book manifestly older -and more manly than at the start, as shown, for instance, by his -refusal to break his word to Silver when the doctor talks with him -over the stockade and urges him to come away with him. With the other -characters it is more the bringing out of traits already existing than -the developing of new ones. John Silver is of course by far the most -masterly figure in the book—although the student should be allowed -to have his own idea in regard to this. Indeed, one of the ways in -which he judges and should judge a book as a whole is by deciding what -personage in it is, all things considered and the story taken all -through, most clearly and sharply defined. The class should be able to -see and to appreciate how the tale as it progresses brings to light one -phase after another of the amazing character of Silver, up to his pluck -at the moment when the treasure-seekers discover that the gold has been -taken away from the cache and to his humble attitude toward the Squire -when the cave of Ben Gunn is reached. - -Lastly, perhaps,—for I do not insist upon the order in which these -points should be taken up, but only give them in the sequence which to -me seems likely to be most natural and effective,—the class should -be brought to appreciate the construction of the book. This involves -obviously the way in which the author weaves together incidents so that -each shall have a part in the general scheme; but it also involves the -way in which he brings out the part that the individual traits and -character of the persons in the story had in leading up to the end. In -"Treasure Island," for instance, it is easy to show how one thing leads -to another, and how out of the chain no link could be taken without -breaking the continuity. This should not be impressed upon the class, -however, as a matter of invention on the part of the author. Children -know that the book is a fiction, but they prefer to ignore this. It is -not well to make the fact part of the instruction. The way to handle -this is to dwell upon the skill with which he has arranged particulars, -and passed in his narrative from one party to another so as to have -each incident clear. Pupils may be reminded of how easy it is to mix -the details of a story so as to confuse the hearer or the reader, and -thus may be made to appreciate to some degree the cleverness of the -workmanship which so distinguishes the work of Stevenson. - -More subtle in a way and yet not beyond the comprehension of the -school-boy is the part which character plays in shaping events and -moulding the story. The restlessness and the curiosity of Jim, from -the adventure of the apple-barrel to the saving of the ship, are -essentials in the tale; and equally the diabolical cleverness and -_unscrupulousness_ of Silver shape the events of the story from -beginning to end. - -One more illustration may be taken from the novel which is so generally -included in high-school English, Scott's "Ivanhoe." Here it is -necessary to prepare for the story by the acquirement of a certain -amount of history. It is perhaps as well to take the first five[159:1] -paragraphs of the opening chapter as a preliminary lesson, and to -treat it as history pure and simple. In preparation for this lesson the -following vocabulary should be mastered: - - Dragon of Wantley. - Wars of the Roses. - Vassalage. - Inferior gentry, or franklins. - Feudal. - The Conquest. - Duke William of Normandy. - Normans. - Anglo-Saxons. - Battle of Hastings. - Laws of the chase. - Chivalry. - Hinds. - Classical languages. - -A few other expressions, such as "petty kings," should be looked after -in the reading, lest the class get a false impression. The geography of -the river Don and of Doncaster may be passed over; but it is perhaps -better, especially in this historical preliminary, to require full -accuracy in this particular. To my thinking all this should be looked -up by the students, and never taken from notes appended to the text. - -The five paragraphs in which Scott gives the historic background -should be taken frankly as a piece of work out of which the class is -to make as clear a conception of the period of the tale as possible. -The pupils should use their common sense and their intelligence in -studying it, getting all out of it that they can get. Then it should -be read aloud in the class, and carefully gone over. The aim should be -to have understood as clearly as possible what were the political and -the social conditions of the time when the events of the romance are -represented as taking place. Such other historic personages as enter -into the story without being mentioned in this preliminary sketch -should be brought into this exposition. Thus when King Richard and -Prince John and Robin Hood the semi-historic come upon the stage the -student will be prepared for the effect which the novelist intended, -and will have, moreover, that pleasure which a young reader always -feels in finding himself equal to an occasion. - -This preliminary work being accomplished, the rest of the book will -probably have to be largely assigned for home reading. The opening -chapters, however, and the most striking scenes must certainly be read -aloud in class. A sufficient portion for a lesson will be assigned each -day. A list of words for that portion will be given out with it to be -learned first. No teacher will suppose, I fancy, that in every case a -student will master the vocabulary before he reads the selection, but -the principle is sound and the words would at least be all taken up in -class before any reading is done. Students should be told to read the -selection aloud at home, and should come to the class acquainted with -the meaning and significance of each passage, or prepared to ask about -them. - -At the beginning of the novel, when the reader is learning the -situation and the characters concerned, the assignments must be shorter -than in the latter part of the book, when these things are understood -and the current of the tale runs more swiftly. The remainder of the -first chapter, from the paragraph beginning "The sun was setting" is -quite enough for a first instalment. The following words make up the -preliminary vocabulary: - - Rites of druidical superstition. - Scrip. - Bandeau. - Harlequin. - Rational. - Quarter-staff. - Murrain. - Eumæus. - -The method of treating the fiction itself has been sufficiently -indicated in the previous illustration from "Treasure Island," but may -be briefly touched upon. In this chapter of "Ivanhoe" are introduced -two characters. Both are described at some length, but in the case of -both important touches here and there add to the impression. Gurth is -said at the beginning to be stern and sad, and in the talk the reasons -come out. - - "The mother of mischief confound the Ranger of the forest, that - cuts the foreclaws off our dogs, and makes them unfit for their - trade." - - "Little is left us but the air we breathe, and that appears - to have been reserved with much hesitation, solely for the - purpose of enabling us to endure the tasks they lay upon our - shoulders." - -We have a proof of his impulsiveness in the dangerous freedom with -which he speaks to Wamba, and of how daring this is we are made aware -when the jester says to him: - - "I know thou thinkest me a fool, or thou wouldst not be so - rash in putting thy head into my mouth. One word to Reginald - Front-de-BÅ“uf . . . thou wouldst waver on one of these trees - as a terror to all evil speakers against dignities." - -Of the superstition of Gurth we have proof by his fear at the mention -of the fairies. - - "Wilt thou talk of such things while a terrible storm of - thunder and lightning is raging within a few miles of us?" - -Here is a fairly satisfactory portrait of Gurth, although other traits -of character are developed as the book goes forward. At the end of -the novel the attention of the class may be directed to the skilful -way in which at the very start Scott has struck in the words of Gurth -the keynote of the oppression of the Normans and the hatred for them -in the hearts of the Saxons; but a point of this sort should not be -anticipated. It will tell for more if it is left until it has had its -full effect and its place as a part of the whole romance may be clearly -shown. - - * * * * * - -One last word I cannot bring myself to omit. I have said elsewhere that -I disbelieve in the drawing of morals, and at the risk of repetition I -wish to emphasize this in connection with fiction. The temptation here -is especially strong. It is so easy to draw a moral from any tale ever -written that two classes of teachers, those morally over-conscientious -and those ignorantly inept, are almost sure to insist that their -classes shall drag a moral lesson out of every story. The habit seems -to me thoroughly vicious. It is proper to make the character of the -persons in the novel as vivid as possible. The villain may be made -as hateful to God and to man as the testimony of the author will in -any way allow; but when that is done the children should be left to -draw their own morals. They should not even be allowed to know that -the teacher is aware that a moral may be drawn, and still less should -they be asked to discover one. If they draw a moral themselves or ask -questions about one, this is well, so long as they are sincere and -spontaneous. If they are left entirely to themselves in this they will -in a healthy natural fashion get from the story such moral instruction -as they are capable of profiting by, and they will not be put into that -antagonistic attitude which human nature inevitably takes when it is -preached to. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[159:1] Five in the original. Some school editions, for what reason I -do not know, omit paragraph five, which begins: "This state of things I -have thought it necessary to premise." - - - - -XIII - -THE STUDY OF "MACBETH" - - -How I conceive the study of poetry may be managed in school-work I have -already indicated somewhat fully, but one concrete example is often -worth a dozen abstract statements. In the literary work of almost every -high school is now included the study of at least one Shakespearean -play, and as "Macbeth" is so generally selected as the one to be first -taken up, I have chosen that as an illustration. - -The study of any play, as I have said, should begin with a requirement -that the class master the vocabulary. The pupils should be made to -understand that the need of doing this is precisely the same as the -need of learning common speech for the sake of comprehending the talk -of every-day life, or of mastering the vocabulary of French before -going to the theatre to hear a play in that language. The scholars -should be told frankly that this will not be particularly easy work, -but that it is to be taken in the same spirit that one learned the -multiplication-table. No harm can come of letting the class expect this -part of the work to be full harder than it really is, and at least it -is well to have students understand that they are expected to labor to -fit themselves for the enjoyment of literature. - -In this preparation the aim is to make it possible for the readers -to go on with the text without important interruptions. This purpose -determines what words and passages shall be taken up. Some difficulties -may safely and wisely be left for the second reading of the play, and -as it is well in these days not to expect too much of the industry -of youth, the teacher will do well to keep the list of words to be -mastered as short as may be. The whole play should be prepared for -before any of it is read, but I give only examples from the first act. -I should suggest—each teacher to vary the list at his pleasure—that -in the first act the following words should be dealt with. The numbers -of the lines are those of the Temple Edition. - -_Alarum._ This occurs in the stage-directions of scene ii. The class -will see at once that it differs from "alarm," and can be made to -appreciate how from the strong rolling of the _r_—"alarr'm" came to -this form. That the latter form is now used in the sense of a warning -sound, and especially in the sense of a sound of trumpet or drum to -announce the coming of a military body or the escort of importance -affords a good example of the manner in which synonyms are established -in the language. A quotation or two may help to fix the word in mind: - - Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings—"Richard III," - _i_, 1. - - And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love?—"Othello," - _ii_, 3. - - The dread alarum should make the earth quake to its - centre.—Hawthorne, "Old Manse." - -_Kerns and gallowglasses_, _ii_, 13. It may be enough to give simply -the fact that the first of these uncouth words means light-armed and -the second heavy-armed Irish troops. If the teacher likes, however, he -may add a brief mention of the passage from Barnabie Riche: - - The _Galloglas_ succeedeth the Horseman, and hee is commonly - armed with a skull,[167:1] a shirt of maile, and a _Galloglas_ - axe; his service in the field is neither good against horsemen, - nor able to endure an encounter of pikes, yet the Irish do - make great account of them. The _Kerne_ of Ireland are next in - request, the very drosse and scum of the countrey, a generation - of villaines not worthy to live: these be they that live by - robbing and spoiling the poor countreyman, that maketh him - many times to buy bread to give unto them, though he want - for himself and his poore children. These are they that are - ready to run out with every rebell, and these are the very - hags of hell, fit for nothing but for the gallows.—_New Irish - Prognostication._ - -_Thane_, _ii_, 45. This word may be made interesting by its close -connection with the Anglo-Saxon. _Thegan_ was originally a servant, -then technically the king's servant, and so an Anglo-Saxon nobleman and -one of the king's more immediate warriors. - -_Bellona_, _ii_, 54. The mythological allusion is of course easy to -handle. - -_Composition_, _ii_, 59. This I would include in the list chiefly to -emphasize how often a little common sense will solve what at first -sight seems a difficulty of language. "Craves composition" is so easily -connected with "composing difficulties" or any similar phrase that an -intelligent pupil can see the point if he is only alive to the force of -language. - -_Aroint_, _iii_, 6. It will interest most scholars to learn that this -word—except for modern imitations—is found only in Shakespeare, -and in him but twice, both times in the phrase "Aroint thee, witch" -(the second instance, "Lear," _iii_, 4). They will be at least amused -by the possibility of its being derived from a dialect word given -in the Cheshire proverb quoted by an old author named Ray in 1693, -and probably in use in the time of Shakespeare: "'Rynt you, witch,' -quoth Bessie Locket to her mother;" and in the speculation whether -the dramatist himself made the word. The curious derivation of the -term from rauntree or rantry, the old form of rowan, or mountain-ash, -is sure to appeal to children who have seen the rowan ripening its -red berries. The mountain-ash, or the "quicken," as it is called in -Ireland, is one of the most famous trees in Irish tradition, and is -sacred to the "Gentle People," the fairies. It was of old regarded as a -sure defence against witches, and the theory of some scholars is that -the original form of the exclamation given by Shakespeare was "I've a -rauntree, witch," "I've a rowan-tree, witch." All that it is necessary -for the reader to know is that the word is evidently a warning to the -witch to depart; but there can be no objection to introducing into -this preliminary study of the vocabulary matter which is likely to -arrest attention and to fix meanings in the mind. - -_Rump-fed ronyon_, _iii_, 6. It is hardly worth while to do more with -this than to have it understood that "ronyon" is a term of contempt, -meaning scabby or something of the sort, and that "rump-fed," while it -may refer to the fact that kidneys, rumps, and scraps were perquisites -of the cook or given to beggars, probably indicates nothing more than a -plump, over-fed woman. - -_Pent-house lid_, _iii_, 20. A pent-house is from the dictionary found -to be a sloping roof projecting from a wall over a door or window; and -from this to the comparison with the eyebrow is an easy step. That the -simile was common in the sixteenth century may be shown by numerous -quotations, as, for instance, the passage in Thomas Decker's "Gull's -Horne-book," 1609: - - The two eyes are the glasse windows, at which light disperses - itself into every roome, having goodlie pent-houses of hair to - overshadow them. - -In the second chapter of "Ivanhoe": - - Had there not lurked under the pent-house of his eye that sly - epicurean twinkle. - -And so on down to our own time, when Tennyson, in "Merlin and Vivian," -writes: - - He dragged his eyebrow bushes down, and made - A snowy pent-house for his hollow eyes. - -_Insane root_, _iii_, 84. In Plutarch's "Lives," which in the famous -translation of North was familiar to Shakespeare and from which he took -material for his plays, we are told that the soldiers of Anthony in the -Parthian war were forced by lack of provisions to "taste of roots that -were never eaten before; among which was one that killed them, and made -them out of their wits." Any intelligent student would be likely to -understand the force of this phrase from the context, but it is well to -speak of it beforehand to avoid distraction of the attention in reading. - -_Coign_, _vi_, 7. "Jutty," from our common use of the verb "to jut," -carries its own meaning, and the use of the word "coign" in this -passage is given in the "Century Dictionary." - -_Sewer_, _vii_, _stage-directions_. The derivation and the meaning are -also given in the "Century Dictionary," with illustrative quotations. - -So far for single words which would be likely to bother the ordinary -student in reading. The list might be extended by individual teachers -to fit individual cases, and such words included as choppy, _iii_, 44; -blasted, _iii_, 77; procreant, _vi_, 8; harbinger, _iv_, 45; flourish, -_iv_, _end_; martlet, _vi_, 4; God 'ield, _vi_, 13; trammel up, _vii_, -3; limbec, _vii_, 67. It is well, however, not to make the list longer -than is absolute necessary; and as the vocabulary of the whole play is -to be taken up, it is better to trust to the general intelligence of -the class as far as possible. - - -II - -These doubtful or obsolete words having been mastered by the class, -and the lines in which they occur used as illustrations of their use, -the next matter is to take up obscure passages. These may be blind -from unusual use of familiar words or from some other cause. Where -the difficulty is a matter of diction it is hardly worth while to -make further division into groups, and in the first act the following -passages may be given to the students to study out for themselves if -possible, or to have explained by the teacher if necessary: - - Say to the king _the knowledge of the broil_ - As thou did leave it.—_ii_, 6. - - * * * * * - - For brave Macbeth—well he deserves that name— - _Disdaining fortune_, with his brandished steel - Which smoked with _bloody execution_, - Like _valour's minion_ carved out his passage - Till he faced the slave; - Which ne'er shook hands, nor bid farewell to him, - Till he _unseam'd him from the nave to chaps_, - And fix'd his head upon our battlements.—_ii_, 16-23. - - * * * * * - - Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds, - Or _memorize another Golgotha_, - I cannot tell.—_ii_, 39-41. - - * * * * * - - Till that _Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof, - Confronted him with self-comparisons, - Point against point rebellious_, arm 'gainst arm, - Curbing his lavish spirit.—_ii_, 54-57. - - * * * * * - - He shall live a man _forbid_.—_iii_, 21. - - * * * * * - - The weird sisters, hand in hand, - _Posters_ of the sea and land.—_iii_, 32, 33. - - * * * * * - - Art not without ambition, but without - _The illness should attend it_.—_v_, 20-21. - - * * * * * - - All that impedes thee from the _golden round_ - That fate and _metaphysical aid_ doth seem - To have thee crowned withal.—_v_, 30-31. - - * * * * * - - To _beguile_ the time - Look like the time.—_vi_, 63. - - * * * * * - - —Those honors deep and broad wherewith - Your majesty loads our house: for those of old - And the late dignities heap'd up to them - We rest your _hermits_.—_vi_, 16-20. - - * * * * * - - This Duncan - Hath borne his _faculties_ so meek.—_vii_, 16-17. - - * * * * * - - What cannot you and I perform upon - The unguarded Duncan? what not put upon - His _spongy_ officers, who shall bear the guilt - Of our great _quell_.—_vii_, 69-72. - -This list again may be made longer or shorter, with the same proviso -as before, that it be not unnecessarily distended. Phrases like -"craves composition" and "insane root," which I have put into the -first section, may be grouped here if it seems better. I have not felt -it needful to indicate the way in which the meaning of these obscure -passages is to be brought out, for the method would be essentially the -same as that taken to interest the class in the vocabulary of detached -words. - - -III - -Passages possibly obscure from the thought may for the most part be -left for the later study of the play in detail. A few of them it is -well to take up for the simple purpose of training the student in -poetic language, and some need to be understood for the sake of the -first general effect. In the first act of "Macbeth" the passages which -it is actually necessary to examine are few, but the list may be made -long or short at the pleasure of the teacher. The following may serve -as examples: - - The merciless Macdonwald— - Worthy to be a rebel, for to that - The multiplying villainies of nature - Do swarm upon him.—_ii_, 9-12. - - * * * * * - - As whence the sun 'gins his reflection - Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break, - So from that spring whence comfort seem'd to come - Discomfort swells.—_ii_, 25-28. - - * * * * * - - But thither in a sieve I'll sail, - And like a rat without a tail, - I'll do, I'll do and I'll do.—_iii_, 8-10. - -This passage is a good example of what may be passed over in the first -reading, yet which if understood adds greatly to the force of the -effect. If the scholar knows that according to the old superstition a -witch could take the form of an animal but could be identified by the -fact that the tail was wanting, the idea of the hag's flying through -the air on the wind to the tempest-tossed vessel bound for Aleppo, -and on it taking the form of a tailless rat to gnaw, and gnaw, and -gnaw till the ship springs a leak, is sure to appeal to the youthful -imagination. - - My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, - Shakes so my single state of man that function - Is smothered in surmise, and nothing is - But what is not.—_iii_, 139-142. - -This is one of those passages which is sure to puzzle the ordinary -school-boy, although a little help will enable him to understand it, -and to see how natural under the circumstances is the state of mind -which it paints. The murder is as yet only imagined (fantastical), -and yet the thought of it so shakes Macbeth's individual (single) -consciousness (state of man) that the ordinary functions of the mind -are lost in confused surmises of what may come as the consequences of -the deed; until to his excited fancy nothing seems real (is) but what -the dreadful surmise paints, although that does not yet exist. - - Your servants ever - Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs, in compt - To make their audit to your highness' pleasure, - Still to return your own.—_vi_, 25-28. - - * * * * * - - His two chamberlains - Will I with wine and wassail so convince, - That memory, the warder of the brain, - Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason - A limbec only.—_vii_, 63-67. - -The whole of Macbeth's soliloquy at the beginning of scene _vii_ is a -case in point. It may be taken up here, but to my thinking is better -treated after the class is familiar with the circumstances under which -it is spoken. - - -IV - -The taking up of especially striking passages beforehand may be omitted -altogether, although what I consider the possible advantages I have -already indicated.[175:1] Perhaps the better plan is to do this after -the first reading of the play, and before the second reading prepares -the way for detailed study. The sort of passage I have in mind is -indicated by the following examples: - - If you can look into the seeds of time, - And say which grain will grow and which will not.—_iii_, 58-59. - -The attention of the pupils may be called to the especial force and -fitness of the image. The impossibility of telling from the appearance -of a seed whether it will grow or what will spring from it makes very -striking this comparison of events to them, so unable are we to say -which of these "seeds of time" will produce important results and which -will show no more growth than a seed unsprouting. - - _Dun._ This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air - Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself - Unto our gentle senses. - - _Ban._ This guest of summer, - The temple-haunting martlet, does approve - By his loved mansionry that the heaven's breath - Smells wooingly here.—_vi_, 1-7. - -This is not only charming as poetry, but it is excellent as a help to -train the class to appreciative reading by attention to significant -details. "Nimbly,"—with a light, quick motion,—the air "recommends -itself,"—comes upon us in a way which makes us appreciate its -goodness,—unto our "gentle,"—delicate, capable of perceiving subtle -qualities,—senses. In the reply of Banquo the use of "guest," one -favored and invited, of "temple-haunting," conveying the idea of one -frequenting places consecrated and revered, of "loved mansionry," -dwellings which the eye loves to recognize, all help to strengthen the -impression, and to give the feeling to the mind which we might have -from watching the flight of the slim, glossy swallows flitting about -their nests. - -It is not necessary to multiply examples, since each teacher will -have his personal preferences for striking passages; and since many -will probably prefer to leave this whole matter to be taken up in the -reading. - - -V - -The first reading of a play, whether it come before or after the -mastering of the vocabulary, should be unbroken except by the pauses -necessary between consecutive recitations, and must above everything be -clear and intelligible. In all but the most exceptional circumstances -it should be done by the teacher, the class following the text in -books of their own. No teacher who cannot read well has any business -to attempt to teach literature at all, for reading aloud is the most -effective of all means to be used in the study. This does not mean that -the reading should be over-dramatic, and still less that it should be -what is popularly known as "elocutionary;" but it does mean that it -shall be agreeable, intelligent, and sympathetic. The teacher must -both understand and feel the work, and must be trained to convey both -comprehension and emotion through the voice. The pupils will from a -first reading get chiefly the plot, but they may also be unconsciously -prepared for the more important knowledge of character which is -naturally the next step in the process of studying the drama. - -As preparation for the first reading of "Macbeth" little is needed in -the way of general explanation. The discussion of the supernatural -element, of the responsibility of the characters, and of the central -thought of the play, may safely be left for later study. Young people -will respond to the direct story, and it is not unwise to let the -plot produce its full effect as simple narrative. It is well to state -beforehand how it comes that the kingship does not necessarily go by -immediate descent, and so to make it evident how Macbeth secured the -throne; it may be well also to comment briefly on the state of society -in which crime was more possible than now; but beyond this the play may -be left to tell its own tale. - -In this first reading the teacher will do well to indicate such points -of stage-setting as are not evident, and such stage "business" as is -necessary to the understanding of the scene. It is as well, however, -not to give too much stress to this. To follow the play of emotions -is with children instinctive, and this they will do without dwelling -on the details of the scene too closely in a material sense. At least -a very little aid will be sufficient at this stage. In a subsequent -reading these matters may be more fully brought out, although I am -convinced that even then it is easy to overdo the insisting upon aids -to visualization. - -What may be done and should not be omitted is the interspersion in -passing of comments so brief that they do not interrupt, yet which -throw light upon meanings which might otherwise be likely to pass -unnoticed. Nothing should be touched upon in this way which is so -complicated as to require more than a word or two to make it plain. -What I mean is illustrated by these examples: - - I come Graymalkin. - Paddock calls.—_i_, 9, 10. - -The voice in reading conveys the idea that the witches speak to -familiar spirits in the air, but it is well to state that fact -explicitly. - - What, can the devil speak true?—_iii_, 107. - -Banquo thinks instantly of the word of the witches, - - Glamis, and thane of Cawdor, etc.—_iii_, 111-119. - -In these lines and in 126-147, it is of so much importance that the -distinction between the asides and the direct speech be appreciated -that it may be well to call attention to the changes. - - Cousins, a word, I pray you.—_iii_, 126. - -Banquo draws the others aside, probably to tell them of the prediction -by the witches of the news they have brought, and this gives Macbeth a -moment by himself to think of the strangeness of it. - - Think upon what hath chanced.—_iii_, 153. - -This is said, of course, to Banquo. - - We will establish our estate upon - Our eldest son, Malcolm.—_iv_, 37. - -Here the conditions of succession already spoken of may be alluded -to, and the fact noted that if Macbeth had entertained any hopes of -succeeding Duncan legitimately, these were now dispelled. - - And when goes hence?—_v_, 60. - -The sinister suggestion of this may well be emphasized by calling -attention to it. - - By your leave, hostess.—_vi_, 31. - -With these words Duncan, who has taken the hand of Lady Macbeth, turns -to lead her in. - - -VI - -Once the play has been read as a whole the way has been prepared for -more careful attention to details. For each recitation the parts should -be assigned beforehand for oral reading, three or four pupils being -assigned to each part so that in a long scene opportunity is given for -bringing a number of the students to their feet.[180:1] It is well -to prepare for this second reading by selecting the central motive of -the play, and having the class discuss it. In the case of "Macbeth" it -is easy to select ambition as the main thread. In some plays a single -passion or emotion is not so easily detached, but it is generally -needful to remember that if children are to be impressed and are to -see things clearly, they must be dealt with simply; so that even at -the expense of slighting for the time being some of the strands it is -well to keep to the principle of naming one and holding to it with -straightforwardness until the work is tolerably familiar. - -The children should be made to say—not to write, for contagion of -ideas is of the greatest importance here—what they understand by -ambition, how far they have noticed it in others, and perhaps how far -felt it themselves. A wise teacher should have little difficulty in -making such a talk personal enough to enforce the idea without letting -it become too intimate. It can be brought out that the test of ambition -is the extent of the sacrifices one is willing to make to gratify -it. The ambition already spoken of to excel in class, to be at the -head of the school baseball nine or football team, to be popular with -friends, and so on for the common ambitions of life may seem trifling, -but it belongs to the language of the child's life. Here and there -the teacher finds pupils who might seize the conception of ambition -without starting so near the rudiments, but most need it; I am unable -to see how any can be hurt by it. It is much more difficult to get a -conception vividly into the minds of twenty pupils together than it is -to impress the same thing upon a hundred separately, and I should never -feel that I could afford to neglect the humblest means which might be -serviceable. The talk, moreover, does not stop here. It is to be led on -to what the boys and girls would wish to be in the world; and from this -to historic instances of what men have done to gratify their ambitions. -The assassination of the late King of Servia is still so recent as -to seem much more real than murders farther back in history, and it -lends itself well to the effort to make vital the tragedy that is -being studied. I am not for an instant urging that literature shall be -treated in too realistic a manner, as I hope to show before I conclude; -but I do not feel that there is any fear of making it too real to the -boys and girls with whom one must deal to-day in our schools. - -It is perhaps well, too, that some comment should be made at this stage -on the supernatural element. A class is likely to have had geometry by -the time it has come to the study of Shakespeare, and most children can -with very little difficulty be made to understand that in "Macbeth" -and "The Ancient Mariner" the existence of the supernatural is the -hypothesis upon which the work proceeds. When this is understood it is -not amiss to develop the idea that Shakespeare perhaps introduced the -witches as a way of showing how evil thoughts and desires spring up in -the heart. The class will easily see that the ideas of ambition, of -the possibility of gaining the crown, which little by little grew in -the heart of Macbeth can be better shown to an audience by putting the -words into the mouths of the witches than by means of soliloquies. This -giving of reasons why the dramatist does one thing or another should -not be pressed too far and should be touched upon with caution. It is -often better to let a detail go unremarked than to run the risk of -confusing the mind of the pupil. The witches, however, are almost sure -to be remarked upon, and they must be considered frankly. - -In this second reading such obscure passages as have been glided over -before are to be taken into consideration. If the pupils have, as -they should have, texts unencumbered with notes, they may be given a -scene or two at a time, and told to use their wits in elucidating the -difficulties. Often they show surprising intelligence in this line, -and the bestowal of praise where it is deserved is one of the most -effective as well as one of the pleasantest parts of the whole process. -What they cannot elucidate alone, they may be if possible helped to -work out in class, or, if this fails, may be told outright. If they -have tried to arrive at the true meaning, they are in a condition when -an explanation will have its best and fullest effect. - -Passages in the first act of "Macbeth" which I have thus far passed -over deliberately, to the end that the pupil be not bothered over too -many difficulties at once, are such as these: - - Fair is foul, and foul is fair,—_i_, 11. - - Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky - And fan our people cold.—_ii_, 49, 50. - - Nor would we deign him burial of his men - Till he disbursed, at Saint Colme's inch.—_ii_, 59, 60. - - Ten thousand dollars.—_ii_, 62. - -If, as is likely to be the case, the greater part or all of the class -have passed the word "dollars" without notice, that fact serves to -illustrate the need of care in reading. That they should pass it, -moreover, illustrates also how the anachronism might pass unnoticed -in Shakespeare's time, when historical accuracy was the last thing -about which a playwright bothered his head. The teacher may well here -refer back to the idea of considering literature as the algebra of the -emotions, and remind the class that as the poet was not endeavoring -to write history or to tell what happened in a concrete instance, but -only to represent the abstract principle of such a situation as that in -which Macbeth and his wife were involved, a departure from historical -accuracy is of no importance so long as it does not disturb the effect -on the mind of the audience or reader. - - No more that thane of Cawdor shall receive - Our bosom interest.—_ii_, 63, 64. - - I'll give thee a wind.—_iii_, 11. - -The supposed power of the witches to control the winds and the -superstitions of the sailors about buying favorable weather from them -may be taken up in the first reading; but it seems better to leave it -for the time when the effect of the play as a whole has been secured, -and the interruption will be less objectionable. - - His wonders and his praises do contend - Which should be thine or his: silenced with that.—_iii_, 63. - - That, trusted home.—_iii_, 120. - - Poor and single business.—_vi_, 16. - - Like the poor cat i' the adage.—_vii_, 45. - -It is not necessary to continue this list. Its length is decided by the -one fixed principle to which is no exception: it is too long the moment -the teacher fails to hold the interest of the class in the work which -is being done. No amount of information acquired or skill in passing -examinations can compensate for the harm done by associating the plays -of Shakespeare in the minds of the student with the idea of dulness or -boredom. - -Textual explanation, however, is of small importance as compared to an -intelligent grasp of the office and effect of each incident and each -scene in the development of the story and of the characters of the -actors in the tragedy. At the end of each scene, or for that matter -at any point which seems well to the instructor, the students should -in this second reading be called upon to comment orally on what has -been done in the play and what has been shown. I have much more faith -in the genuineness of what a boy says on his feet in the class room -than in what he may write at home. A teacher with the gentlest hint may -at once stop humbug and conventionality when it is spoken, but when -stock phrases, conventional opinions, views imperfectly remembered or -consciously borrowed from somebody's notes have been neatly copied out -in a theme, no amount of red ink corrects the evil that has been done. -The important thing is to get an appreciation, no matter how limited or -imperfect it may be, which is yet genuine and intelligent. - -With the matter of disputed readings, I may say in parenthesis, the -teacher in the secondary school has no more to do than to answer doubts -which may arise in the minds of the pupils. Personally I should offer -to the consideration of the class the conjectural reading of the line - - Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself.—_vii_, 27. - Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps its selle (saddle); - -because it seems to me so plausible and because it is likely to commend -itself. For the most part, however, I should let sleeping dogs lie, and -if nobody noticed the possible confusion of the text, I would not risk -confusion of mind by calling attention to it. - -The personal opinions of the class upon the actions and the acts of -the characters are not difficult to get at in this way, and often will -be the more fully shaped and more clearly thought out if the pupil is -constrained to defend an unpopular view. I am not introducing anything -new, for this sort of discussion is carried on by every intelligent -teacher; it is mentioned here only for the sake of completeness in the -process of treating a play in the class-room. - - -VII - -It may seem superfluous to some teachers to end the study as it began, -by a complete, uninterrupted reading of the whole. It is possible that -sometimes it would weary a class already weary of going over the same -ground; but if so the class has been on the wrong tack throughout. I -make the suggestion, however, in confidence that the effect will be -good, and that the students will enjoy this review. Whether the reading -is done by teacher or pupils depends somewhat upon circumstances; but -it should certainly be by the pupils if possible. - - -VIII - -I have carefully and intentionally omitted all mention of the study of -the sources of the plot, the probable date of the play, and things of -that sort which interest thorough Shakespearean scholars, and which -are the chosen subjects of pedantic formalists. Metrical effects and -subtilties are beyond any pupils I have ever encountered in secondary -schools. I do not believe that students in the secondary schools should -be troubled with any study of this sort. The teacher should of course -be prepared briefly to answer any questions of this nature which are -put, and to show the pupils where in books of reference information -may be found. The great principle is, however, to include in the study -nothing which does not enhance the impression of the play as a work of -imaginative literature, and to omit everything which can possibly be -spared without endangering this general effect. - -The danger of overshadowing literary study with irrelevant information -is great and constant. The amount of special knowledge which a child -must acquire to appreciate a play of Shakespeare's is unhappily large -in any case; and the constant aim of the teacher should be to reduce -this to a minimum. It is far better that a pupil go through the work -with imaginative delight and fail to get the exact meaning of half -the obscure passages than that he be bored and wearied by an exact -explanation of all of them at the expense of the inspiration of the -work as a whole. My painful doubts of the wisdom of our present scheme -of insisting upon the study of literature in the common schools arises -largely from the unhappy necessity of having so much explained and -the too common lack of courage to do a sufficient amount of judicious -ignoring of difficulties. - - -IX - -I cannot shirk entirely, as I should be glad to do, the question of -written work on the play we have been considering.[188:1] It is a -thousand pities that children must be required to write anything about -"Macbeth" when they have read it; but it is evident that under existing -conditions they will be required to produce something on paper. In -regard to this I must repeat that they should never be asked to write -as exercises in composition. Everything that a child writes is, in -one sense, a rhetorical exercise, but the teacher should impress it -upon the class that here the chief aim is to get an expression of the -child's thought. The more completely the children can be made to feel -that this is not a "composition," but a statement of impressions, of -personal tastes, and of opinions, the better. - -What subjects are suited for written work is a matter which must be -decided by each teacher according to the dispositions, the knowledge, -the aptitude shown by the scholars in a particular class. It will -inevitably be influenced largely by examination-papers; and in the -face of the lists of subjects provided by these it is idle to offer -any particular suggestions. In general the test of a subject, so far -as real benefit is concerned, is whether it is one upon which the -student may fairly be expected to be able to feel and to reason in -terms of his own experience. A subject is suited to his needs so long, -and so long only, as he is able to consider it as a matter which might -concern him personally. He may think crudely and he must of course -think inadequately; but he should at least think sincerely and without -regard to what somebody else has thought before him. He should be -original in the sense that he is putting down his own impressions, is -writing thoughts which have not been gathered from books, but have been -come at by considering the play in the light of whatever knowledge he -personally has of life and human nature. - -Much may depend, it is worth remarking, upon the way a subject for -theme-work is given out. Phrases count greatly in all human affairs, -but especially in the development of children. Adults are supposed -to understand words so readily as to be free from the danger of -receiving wrong impressions from phraseology which is unfamiliar; but -whether this be true or not, certain it is that the young are often -bewildered by words and queerly affected by turns of language. The same -theme-subject may be hopelessly incomprehensible or at least unhappily -remote when stated in one way, while in another wording it is entirely -possible. The first essential is to make clear beyond all possibility -of doubt what is required, and this is to be accomplished only by using -language which the student understands. The teacher must here as in -all instruction keep constantly in mind that language that is clear -and familiar to him may be nothing less than cryptic to the class. I -remember a lad in a country school who was hopelessly bewildered when -confronted with the subject given out by his teacher: "What Character -in this Book Appeals to You Most, and on what Grounds?" yet who wrote -easily enough a very respectable theme when I said: "She only wants -you to pick out the person in the book you like best, and tell why you -like him." "Oh, is that all?" he said at first incredulously. "But that -isn't saying anything about grounds." The incident, absurd as it is, is -really typical. - -I have usually found that the word "compare" will reduce most students -to mere memories, as they strive almost mechanically to reproduce -things set down in the notes of text-books. Nothing is more common than -subjects like "Compare the Characters of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth," -"Compare 'L'Allegro' and 'Il Penseroso,'" and so on. The result is -generally a statement of the criticisms of the characters or works -mentioned, a statement which is a poor rehash of notes, but has of real -comparison no trace. The comparison calls for analytical powers far -beyond anything pupils are likely to have developed; and when a boy -asked me not so very long ago what a teacher expected of him when he -had been required to compare Sir Roger de Coverley and Will Honeycomb -I was forced to reply that I was utterly unable even to conjecture. I -regard the frequent appearance of theme-subjects of this sort in the -secondary schools with mingled envy and wonder: envy for the teachers -who apparently possess the power to elicit satisfactory work on these -lines, and wonder that the power to do this work seems so completely -to disappear when the pupil leaves the secondary schools. - -To comment on the subjects which have actually stood upon entrance -examinations in the last half-dozen years would in the first place -be invidious, in the second would expose me to an unpleasant danger -of seeming to challenge attention to papers for which I have been -personally responsible, and in the third place would do no possible -good. A teacher with common sense can make the application of the -general principles I have stated if he choose; and he will at least -minimize the unfortunate necessity of making the written work a -preparation for examinations. - - -X - -Memorizing is perhaps best done in connection with the last reading -of the play, but that is a mere detail. Students should be encouraged -to commit to memory the finest passages, and should be given an -opportunity of repeating them in the class with as much intelligent -effectiveness as possible. They should not, of course, be encouraged -or allowed to rant or to "spout" Shakespeare; but the teacher should -insist that at least lines be recited so that the meaning is brought -out clearly, and he should encourage the speaker to give each passage -as if it were being spoken as the expression of a distinct personal -thought. - -. . . . . . . . . - -As I said at the beginning of this chapter, I have not endeavored to -provide a model, but merely for the sake of suggestiveness to offer an -illustration. This is at least one way in which the study of a play -may be taken up in the secondary school. Whether it is the best way -for a given case is another matter; and I must at the risk of tiresome -iteration add that here as everywhere the highest function of the -teacher is to discover what is the best possible method not for the -world in general, but for the particular class to be dealt with at the -moment. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[167:1] A metal covering for the head: a helmet. - -[175:1] Page 80. - -[180:1] Personally I would never have a pupil recite except on his feet. - -[188:1] See chapter xi. - - - - -XIV - -CRITICISM - - -What should be used in the way of tests of the knowledge of pupils is a -puzzling question for any teacher. Like any other pedagogically natural -and necessary inquiry, it can be answered only with a repetition of the -caution that no set of hard and fast rules will apply to all schools or -to all classes. Students themselves, however, would often be perplexed -if they were not given definite tasks to perform, definite questions to -answer, definite facts to memorize. In acquiring the vocabulary needed -for the reading of a play both teacher and pupil feel with satisfaction -that legitimate because tangible work is being done; and for either -it is hard to appreciate the fact that the essential thing in the -study of literature is too intangible to be tested or measured by -specific standards. In what I have called the inspirational treatment -of literature both are likely to feel as if a vacation is being taken -from real work, since the impression is general that the only method of -keeping within the limits of useful educational progress is dependent -upon the accomplishing of concrete tasks. - -The need of fitting students for examinations is generally allowed in -practice to answer the question what shall be done. I have already -said that I have personally little faith in the ultimate value of -much of the drill thus imposed, and it is hardly to be supposed that -any intelligent teacher could be satisfied to let matters rest here. -Certainly a pupil who graduates from the high school should have some -power of criticising intelligently any book which comes into his hands, -and of forming estimates of diction, general form, and to a less extent -even of style. His criticism is necessarily incomplete; but it should -be genuine and sound as far as it goes. Such a result is not dependent -upon the power of passing examinations, but is chiefly secured by -precisely that training in appreciation which is least formal and may -easily appear farthest from practice in criticism. - -Some actual and definite criticism, however, is legitimately a part of -the school-work; and concerning this certain things present themselves -to my mind as obvious. In the first place criticism is of no value, but -rather is harmful, if it fails to be genuine. From this follows the -deduction that no criticism can profitably be required until the child -is old enough to form an opinion, and that at no stage should comments -be asked which are beyond the child's intellectual development. In the -early stages criticism is necessarily genuine in proportion as it is -personal; and it must have become entirely easy and natural before it -can safely be made at all theoretic. - -In the early stages of the use of literature in education, as has -been said already, the aim is to help the child to enjoy, and to -understand so that enjoyment may be inevitable. This should normally be -done in the home, but since in a large number of cases in the common -schools the effects of home training in literature are so lamentably -wanting, the teacher must in most cases undertake to begin at the very -beginning. So far as criticism goes, the early stages are of course -merely the rudimentary likings or dislikings, and the encouragement -of expression of such tastes. Following this comes naturally the -putting into word of reasons for preferences. This must be done with -simplicity, in the homeliest and most unconventional manner, and above -all with no hint to the child that he is doing anything so large as to -"criticise." It is precisely at this stage that children are most in -danger of contracting the habit of repeating parrot-like the opinions -of their elders. All of us have to begin life by receiving the views of -adults, and we are all—except in the rare instances of extraordinary -geniuses, who need not be much considered here—eager to conceal lack -of knowledge by glib repetitions of the ideas of others. To force young -pupils to give opinions when they have none of their own to give is to -repeat the mistake which Wordsworth notes in his "Lesson for Fathers." -The child in the poem unthinkingly declared that he preferred his new -home to the old. His father insists upon a reason, and the poor little -fellow, having none, is forced into the lie: - - "At Kilve there is no weathercock, - And that's the reason why." - -In the lower grades the thing which may well and wisely be done is to -accustom the children to literature and to literary language. If pupils -come to the upper grades and show that this has not been done, the -teacher still has it to do, just as he must teach them the alphabet or -the multiplication-table if they arrive without the knowledge of these -essentials to advanced work. This is the only safe foundation upon -which work may rest, and although to acquire it consumes the time which -should be put on more elaborate study, that study cannot be soundly -done until the rudimentary preparation is well mastered. Criticism must -be postponed until the pupil is prepared for it. - -Criticism, whenever it come, must begin simply, and it must be -connected with the actual life and experience of the child. We are -constantly endangering success in teaching by being unwilling to stop -at the limits of the possible. Boys and girls will be frank about what -they read if they are once really convinced that frankness is what is -expected and desired. They are constantly, if not always consciously, -on the watch for what the teacher wishes them to say. Whatever -encourages them to think for themselves and to state that thought -unaffectedly and freely is what is educationally valuable, and this -only. - -Opinions concerning characters in tales perhaps do as well as anything -for the beginning of criticism in classes. A teacher may say to a -pupil: "Suppose you had known Silas Marner, what would you have thought -of him?" The child is easily led to perceive the difference between -seeing or knowing such a man in real life, with its limited chances -of any knowledge of character, of the past history of the weaver, of -his secret thoughts, or of his feelings, and knowing him from the book -which gives all these details so fully. The question then becomes: -"Suppose you had in some way found out about him all that the novel -tells, what would you have felt?" The teacher will easily detect and -should with the gentlest firmness and the firmest gentleness suppress -any conventional answers. The young girl who with glib conventionality -declares that Silas was a noble character whom she pities because of -the way in which he was misunderstood may be questioned whether if -she had lived in Raveloe she would have seen more than the homely, -unsocial stranger, and whether, even had she known all that was -concealed under his homely life, she could have held out against his -general unpopularity. She is forced to think when she is asked whether -among those who live around her may not be men and women whose lives -are as pathetic and as misjudged as was that of the weaver. Children -have ideas about the personages in the stories they hear or read, and -it is only necessary to encourage, in each pupil according to his -temperament, first the formulating of these clearly and then the frank -stating of them. - -In all this sort of criticism one thing which should be sedulously -avoided is any appearance of drawing a moral. Deliberately to draw a -moral is almost inevitably to defeat any lesson which the tale might -enforce if it is left to make its own effect. The point to be aimed at -here is not to turn the story into a sermon, but to make it as close -to the individual life of the child as is possible. The difference is -in essence that between being told a thing and experiencing it. Once -this relation is established, the child feels an emotional share in the -matter such as can be created by no amount of sermonizing. It may be -doubted if any genuine child ever drew a moral spontaneously, and in -all this work spontaneity is the beginning of wisdom. - -After the pupil has come to have some notion, more or less clear -according to his own mental development, of what the personages in a -story or a play are like, he easily goes on to determine the relation -of one event to another, the interrelation between the separate parts -of the work. He should be able to tell in a general way at least what -influence one character has upon another, and of the responsibility of -each in the events of the narrative. - -These opinions should as much as possible be put into speech before -being written. The subject should be talked out, however, in a manner -so sincere and straightforward as to make conventionality impossible. -Students must be held rigorously to honest and simple expression of -real beliefs and feelings. In every class, and perhaps especially -among girls, are likely to be some who will surely repeat conventional -phrases. Children pick up set phrases with surprising ease, and will -offer them whenever they have reason to believe such counterfeit will -be received instead of real coin. These shams are easily recognized, -and they should be mercilessly dealt with, almost anything except -sarcasm, that weapon which is forbidden to the teacher, being -legitimate against such cant. The student who repeats a set phrase -is usually effectually disposed of by a request to explain, to make -clear, and to prove; so that the habit of meaningless repetition cannot -grow unless the teacher is insensitive to it. The genuine ideas of the -pupils may be developed and put into word in the class, and afterwards -the writing out will involve getting them into order and logical -sequence. - -It may be objected that by this process each scholar will borrow ideas -from what he hears said in the class. This is in reality no serious -drawback to the method. If the individuals are trained to think for -themselves, each will judge the views which are presented in class, and -will make them his own by shaping and modifying them. In any case the -danger of a student's getting too many ideas is not large, and those -he gets from his peers, his classmates, are much more likely to appeal -to him and to remain in his mind than any which he culls from books. -The notions will sometimes be crude, but they will be so corrected and -discussed in recitation that they cannot be essentially false. - -Any criticism which is received from pupils, whether spoken or written, -must first of all be intelligent. Sound common sense is the only safe -basis for any comment, and the higher the grade of a work of literature -imaginatively the more easy is it to treat it in a common-sense spirit. -Pupils should be made to feel not only that they have a right to any -opinion of their own on what they read, but that they are expected -to have one; and that this opinion may be of any nature whatever, -so long as they can justify it by sound reasons. Still farther than -this, they should be allowed freely to cherish tastes for which they -cannot give formal justification—provided they can show a reasonable -appreciation of the real qualities of the work they like or dislike. -In the higher regions of imaginative work the power of analysis of the -most able critic may fail; and it is manifestly idle to expect from -school-children exhaustive criticism of high things which yet they may -feel deeply. - -Since it is of so much importance that all comment and criticism shall -be sincere, care must be taken to keep work within limits which make -sincerity possible. Students must not be required to perform tasks -which are in the nature of things impossible. To push beyond dealing -with comparatively simple matters in a frank and direct manner, is -inevitably to encourage the use of conventional phrases and to replace -sincerity with cant. - -A nice question connects itself with the determination of how much it -is proper and wise to require of children: it is how much farther it -is well to call upon them to criticise literature than we should ask -them to comment on life. We need to know what we are doing, and though -an examination of the character and motives of a criminal in a book -is not the same thing as would be this sort of criticism applied to a -flesh and blood neighbor, the two processes are the same in essence. -The better the teacher succeeds in arousing the imagination of the -pupil, moreover, the more closely the two approach. We should be sure -that we are doing well in requiring of the young, who would not and -should not be encouraged to dwell on actual crime and suffering, that -they produce original opinions upon these things as represented in -fiction. - -It is of course to be allowed that no teaching can make fictions vital -and real in exactly the same way as is that which is known actually to -have happened. An imaginative child vitalizes the story which touches -him, but does not bring it home to himself as he would occurrences -within the circle of his own experience. It may be urged that by -encouraging him to analyze sin in the comparatively remote world of -fancy we give him a chance to perceive its moral hatefulness without -that distrust of his fellows which might come if he were forced to -learn the lesson from the harsher happenings of life; and that in books -the knowledge of character and circumstance is so much fuller than it -is likely to be in experience that he is able to see more clearly. -The fact remains, however, that we should hardly expect or desire a -lucid and reasonable estimate of the late King and Queen of Servia -from the school-children who are being made to write laborious reams -on the motives and the character of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth; that we -should be shocked at finding boys and girls considering in real life -occurrences like the seduction of Olivia Primrose, or suspicions like -those Gareth entertained of Lynette. We certainly cannot afford to -be prurient, or to confine the young to goody-goody books. They may -generally be safely trusted, it seems to me, to read any tale or poem -of first-class merit, although its subject were as painful as that of -"Å’dipus." They will receive it as they receive facts of life told -by a wholesome-minded person, often with very little real perception -of the darkest and most sinister side. It will be as it was with young -Copperfield when he read Fielding's masterpiece and took delight in -the hero, "a child's Tom Jones, a harmless creature." When it comes to -the discussion of motives, of character, of black events in fiction, -the case is different. The child is forced to take a new attitude; to -accumulate the opinions of his elders, to view life from their more -sophisticated point of view; and inevitably to receive a fresh, and not -always a desirable insight into evil. I am not inclined to dogmatize on -this point, and touch upon it chiefly for the sake of suggesting that -teachers may do well to keep it a little in mind. Each case, it seems -to me, must be decided upon its own merit, and I at least have no -arbitrary rules to lay down. Of one thing, however, I am sure, and that -is that whatever is taken up at all should be treated with absolute and -fearless frankness. - -All criticism of diction, style, or whatever belongs to literary -workmanship necessarily comes late. In the secondary schools I believe -very little can profitably be done in this line at all. Of this I -shall speak later in connection with the study of workmanship, but -here I may say that I suppose most teachers to recognize the obvious -absurdity of such questions about metres and metrical effects as are -given on page 43. That they should be gravely proposed in a book of -advice is indication that somebody believes in them; but any class -of students with which I have ever had to deal would be reduced to -mechanical repetition of cant conventionality by the bare sight of such -interrogations. - -One thing which is of importance is the need of encouraging pupils to -judge of any work as a whole. It is so much easier to deal with details -than with a complete work that constantly students leave schools where -the training is in many respects excellent, and have gained no ability -to go beyond the examination of particulars. The far more important -power of estimating a book or a play from its total effect has not been -cultivated. No teacher should forget that the ability to deal fairly -with a whole is of as much more value than any facility in minute -criticism as that whole is greater than any of its parts. - -This does not mean that a student can well summarize everything he -reads or that he may wisely attempt it. It does imply that at least his -attention shall have been directed over and over to the great fact that -the study of details is not the study of a masterpiece; that he shall -have been required to judge a book or a play, so far as he is able, as -a whole work and with reference to its entire effect. In talking with -undergraduates even about short works, pieces no longer than a single -essay of Steele or a simple lyric, I constantly find that they are apt -to have no conception whatever that they could or should do anything -but pick out minute details. I ask what it amounts to as a whole, how -it justifies itself, or what is its value as a complete poem or essay, -and they seem utterly unable to see what I am driving at. The painful -attempt to find out what I wish them to say so entirely occupies their -minds as to render them incapable of using whatever power of judgment -they may possess. Not long ago one boy said to me: "I didn't know it -made any difference what the poem was about if you could pick out -things in it." "What do you suppose it was written for?" I asked. A -look of painful bewilderment came into his face, and he answered that -he supposed some folks liked to write that way. I inquired whether he -would test a bridge—he was an engineering student—by picking out bits -without seeing how the parts held together and how strong it was as -a whole, and he returned with puzzled frankness: "But a bridge has a -use." "Very good," was what I assured him, "and so does a poem. Can't -you appreciate that mankind has not been keeping poems from generation -to generation without finding out if they really are useless? Any work -of literature that is really good must be of value as a whole, and -you have not got hold of it until you are able to see what it is for -as a single thing, a complete unit." The fact is so evident that it -seems almost absurd to mention it in a book intended for teachers, but -scores of boys come yearly from the fitting-schools who prove how often -the fact is ignored,—ignored, very likely, because it is taken for -granted, but no less ignored with seriously ill effects. - -In general, criticism in the secondary schools should have to do only -with the good points of work. Unless a pupil himself shows that he -perceives shortcomings in what is read, it is on the whole the place -of the instructor to keep the attention of the class fixed on merits, -while defects are ignored. This is not to be interpreted as meaning -that any weakness should ever be allowed to pass for a merit; or as -indicating that it is ever wise to shirk a difficulty. Any intelligent -pupil, for instance, should see for himself that the metaphors are -sadly and inexcusably mixed in the passage: - - Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer - The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, - Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, - And by opposing end them. - -It is necessary to meet this knowledge frankly, and to show him how it -is that Shakespeare can be so great in spite of faults like this. It is -the inclination of childhood to feel that a man must be perfect to be -great, but even at the cost of encountering the difficulty of such a -faith the truth must be told. In general, however, it is as well not to -go out of the way to enforce the doctrine of human fallibility, and the -youthful mind is best nourished by being fed on what is good, rather -than by being taught to perceive what is bad. - -When a pupil is asked to put into words the reason why a piece is -written, he should be required to answer by a complete sentence, a -properly phrased assertion. He is not unlikely to begin by giving -a single term, an incomplete and tentative phrase, or at best a -fragmentary statement. For the sake of the clearness of his own -idea and of the habit of accurate thinking, he should be encouraged -and expected to make the idea clear and the statement finished. -Student-criticism, as I have said perhaps often enough already, cannot -in the nature of things be either profound or exhaustive, but it should -be intelligent and well defined as far as it goes. - - - - -XV - -LITERARY WORKMANSHIP - - -The appreciation of literary workmanship dawns very slowly on the -child's mind. In the secondary schools not much can be accomplished -in the way of making students feel the niceties of literary art; -but something should be done to enforce the nature and the worth of -technique. Much that touches the undergraduate's feelings he cannot -analyze, and should never in any work of the secondary schools be -asked to criticise. He should, however, if he is to be systematically -trained in the study of masterpieces, have knowledge enough of the -qualities which distinguish them from lesser work to perceive on what -their claims to superiority are founded. Children so naturally and -so generally feel that distinctions which do not appeal to them are -arbitrary, and it is of so much importance to guard against any feeling -of this sort in the case of literature, that it is worth while to be -at some pains to make distinctions perceptible, even if they may not -always be made entirely clear. - -One of the tests of rank in civilization is appreciation of -workmanship. The savage knows nothing of mechanics beyond the power -of a lever in prying up a rock, the action of a bowstring, or crude -facts of this sort. A machine to him is not only incomprehensible, -but supernatural: a locomotive is a fire-devil, and a loom or a -printing-press, should he see one, a useful spirit. At the other end of -the scale of appreciation of mechanical appliances is the inventor who -devises or the trained engineer who understands the most complicated -engines of modern ingenuity. Somewhere between stands any one of -us,—the ordinary pupil presumably far above the savage, but far below -the expert. In the appreciation of the art of the painter, at the -bottom of the scale is the bushman who can look at the clever painting -of a man and not know what it represents, and at the top the great -painters of the world and those who can best enter into the spirit of -their productions. In this scale again each of us stands somewhere; the -average school-boy is unhappily likely to be so far down as to take -delight in the colored illustrations of the Sunday newspapers and to -be utterly indifferent to a Titian or a Rembrandt. In comprehension -of the value and effect of language, the same principle obtains. The -scale extends from the savage tribes with a vocabulary of but a few -hundred words for the entire speech of the race and no power of making -combinations beyond the simplest, to the cultivated nations with -perhaps a couple of hundred thousand words and the art of producing the -highest forms of prose and of poetry. The scale is a long one, and its -development has taken uncounted ages; but somewhere in the line each -individual has his place. The degree of the civilization of a race is -unerringly determined by its command of the written word; the mental -rank of the individual is no less certainly fixed by his power of using -and of comprehending human speech. - -This general truth is easily brought home to young people by reminding -them how they began their knowledge of language with the acquirement of -single words and went on to appreciate how much more may be expressed -by word-combinations. After the infantile "give" came in turn "p'ease -give" and "please give me a drink." From such stages each of them has -gone on learning. They have constantly increased their vocabulary, -their knowledge of the value of words, of word-arrangement, and of -sentence-construction. Gradually by practical experience they have -gained some appreciation of all those points which make up the sum of -instruction in classes in composition. They now need to be shown that -literary appreciation is the extension of this knowledge along the same -lines; that it is the means of advancing toward a higher place in that -scale which extends from the ignorant savage to the sages. They may in -this way be brought to a conception of literary technique as a matter -connected with the process of perception which they have been carrying -on from childhood. - -How value in all workmanship is to be judged by the effects produced is -admirably illustrated by machinery, but it is hardly less evident in -the case of language. The simpler forms of sentence come to be used by -the child in place of single disconnected words because with sentences -he can do more in the way of communicating his ideas and obtaining what -he desires. To illustrate more complicated forms of language we have -only to remind the child how carefully he orders his speech when he is -endeavoring to coax a favor from an unwilling friend or a reluctant -parent. The child feels himself clever just in proportion as he is -able so to frame his plea that it secures his end. He may be reminded -that he selects most carefully the terms which suggest such things and -ideas as favor his wish and avoids any that might hint at possible -objections. Out of these homely, universal experiences of childhood it -is possible to build up in the mind of the pupil a very fair notion of -the nature and the use of literary workmanship; a notion, moreover, -which is at once sound in principle and entirely adequate as a working -basis. - -Teaching consists principally in helping pupils to extend ideas -which they have received from daily life. In this matter of literary -workmanship, for instance, it means showing them that they have, -without being especially conscious of the fact, a responsiveness -to well-turned forms of speech and to skilful use of words. They -may perhaps be made to appreciate this with especial vividness by -having their attention called to the pleasure they take in clever or -apt sayings from their fellows or from joking speeches. This form -of illustration must, it is true, be used with discretion. It is -always difficult to lead the mind of a child from the concrete to -the general. Not a few children—and children, too, of considerable -intelligence—are not unlikely, if jesting remarks are instanced, to -conclude that good literary workmanship means something amusing. With -due care, however, a class may be led to see how the same quality -of apt presentation in word which pleases them in the sayings of -schoolmates is what, carried farther, is the foundation of literary -technique. - -Concrete examples of thoughts so well expressed that they have come to -be almost part of common speech are abundant. The crisp, dry phrases of -Pope lend themselves admirably as illustration, they are so neat, so -compact, and, it may be added, so free from delicate sentiment which -might be blurred in the handling. - - Order is heaven's first law. - An honest man's the noblest work of God. - -The class can supply examples in most cases, and be pleased with itself -for being able to do so. The finer instances from greater writers may -be led up to, the epigrams of Emerson, the imaginative phrases of -Shakespeare; and so on to longer examples, with illustrations from the -rolling paragraphs of Macaulay, the panoplied prose of De Quincey, -and after that from lyrics and passages in blank verse. Thus much -may be done in the way of instruction in technique fairly early in -high-school work. With it or after it at a proper interval should -follow instruction in regard at least to the mechanical differences -between prose and poetry and what they mean. I have mentioned -earlier[212:1] the impression students often bring from the reading -of Macaulay's "Milton." The remarks there quoted are selected from -answers to a question of an entrance paper in regard to the difference -in form and in quality between prose and poetry. Others from the same -examination show yet more strikingly the general haziness of conception -in the minds of the candidates: - - In prose words are thrown together in a way to make good sense - and to form good English. Poetry is the grouping of words into - a metric [_sic_] system. - - Poetry is often written in rhyme, while prose is expressed in - sentences. - - Poetry is the name given to writing that is written in verse - form. One does not as a rule get the meaning of things when - they are written in verse form. - - Prose may be verse when dealt with by such an author as - Shakespeare or Milton, but prose usually consists of words - arranged in sentences and paragraphs without any special order. - - Poetry is used as a pastime, and as such is all right. - - Between good blank verse and prose there is not much difference - except in the form of wording in which it is put upon the page. - - For me, the difference between prose and poetry is this: Prose - does not rhyme and poetry does. Under such a definition, all - literature not poetry must be prose. Therefore Shakespeare's - works are prose. - -The illustrations might be much extended, but these will show the -confusion which existed in the minds of boys who had been painfully -drilled in the college entrance requirements. I have not selected -the examples for their absurdity, although in a melancholy way they -are droll enough; but I have meant them to illustrate the confusion -which existed in the minds of a large number of the candidates at that -particular examination of what makes the vital difference between prose -and poetry. It is not my contention that teachers in the secondary -schools are to go into minute details in regard to poetic form; but I -do believe that it is idle to talk about the rank of a writer as a poet -or of the beauty of Shakespeare's verse to students who do not know the -difference between verse and prose. - -I may be allowed to remark in passing that to my mind the influence of -the theories of Macaulay's "Milton" alluded to above illustrates the -difference in effect of that which appeals to the personal experience -and feelings of boys and that which they are forced to receive without -such inward interpretation. The boys who were trained in the "Milton" -were trained also in Carlyle's "Burns." The Carlyle, with its eloquent -appreciation of the office of the poet, the seer to whom has been given -"a gift of vision," had apparently left no trace upon their minds. They -had, however, been forced, too often unwilling, over numerous pages of -what they were assured was poetry of the highest quality, yet which to -them was unintelligible and wearisome. When Macaulay declared that -poetry was a relic of barbarism they seized upon the theory eagerly -because it justified their own feelings, because it coincided with -their own impressions; and thenceforth they doubtless held complacently -to their faith in the obsolete uselessness of verse, fortified by so -high an authority. - -In the whole body of papers in the examination from which I have been -quoting very few gave the impression that the writer had a clear -conception that somehow, even if he could not express it, a vital -difference exists between poetry and prose. The greater number of -the boys seemed to think that rhyme made the distinction, or that -distortion of sentences was the leading characteristic. Not one -teacher in a score had succeeded in impressing upon his pupils the -fundamental truth that the only excuse poetry can have for existing -is that it fulfils an office impossible for prose. Yet nothing which -can properly be called the study of poetry can be done until this -prime fact is recognized with entire clearness. Beyond the entirely -unanalytical enjoyment of verse, the native responsiveness to rhythm, -and the uncritical pleasure with which one learns to love literature -and to seek it as a means of pleasure, the first, the most primary, the -absolutely indispensable fact to be thoroughly impressed on a young -student is that poetry uses form as a part, and an essential part, of -its language. The boy must be made to understand that just as he tries -by his tone, by his manner, by his smile, to produce in his hearers -the mood in which he wishes them to receive what he has to say, so the -poet by his melody, by the form of his verse, by his ringing rhythms or -long, melting cadences, by his rhyme or his pauses, is endeavoring to -interpret the ideas he expresses as surely as he is by the statements -he makes. The truth which the teacher knows, that not infrequently the -metrical effect is really of more value and significance than the ideas -stated, is naturally for the most part too deep for the comprehension -of pupils at this stage. It would only confuse a class to go so far as -this; but if we are to "study" poetry, we must have at least a working -definition of what poetry is, and one which shall commend itself to the -children with whom we are working. - -As a mere suggestion which may be of practical use to some teachers, I -would call attention to what may be done by comparing certain pieces of -prose with the poems which have grown out of them. I know of nothing -better for this use than Tennyson's "Ballad of the Revenge" and the -prose version of Sir Walter Raleigh from which it is taken. In many -parts the language is almost identical,—but with the differences -between robust prose and a stirring lyric. The teacher who can make a -class see what the distinction is, what the ballad accomplishes that -Raleigh has not attempted, will have made clear by concrete example -what poetry does and why it is written. Another example is Byron's -"Destruction of Sennacherib" compared with the original version of the -incident as given in the Bible. - -It may seem to some teachers that I am going rather deep, but to such I -should simply propound the question what they understand by the study -of poetry. The natural error of the untrained mind is to regard the -intellectual content of a poem as its reason for being, and to foster -such an error as this is to make forever improbable if not impossible -any intelligent or genuine insight into poetry whatever. If we are -not to protect children against this mistake, fatal as it is to any -perception of the real province and nature of poetic art, what do we -expect to accomplish in all the extensive attention which is under the -present system devoted to the works of the masters? - -That so many boys failed to answer satisfactorily in this matter of -distinguishing between prose and poetry is of course not conclusive -evidence either of general ignorance or of conscious fault on the part -of instructors. Boys often fail in attempts to state distinctions -about which they are yet reasonably clear in their minds, and it may -well be that many who gave absurd replies would have no difficulty in -discriminating between verse and prose,—at least when verse fulfilled -the specification of the candidate who wrote: - - A jagged appearance is the main form-characteristic of blank - verse. Each sentence is a separate line, and every other - sentence is indented about a quarter of an inch. - -It would be interesting to present to pupils who have finished the -study of the college requirements half a dozen brief selections, some -prose and some poetry, but all printed in solid paragraphs. The number -of students who could accurately and confidently distinguish in every -case would be a not unfair test of the extent to which the distinction -is understood. - -Teachers probably fail to make this matter clear because they not -unnaturally assume that of course any intelligent lad in his teens -must know the distinction between prose and poetry. Natural as such an -assumption may be, however, it is often—indeed, I am tempted to say -generally—wrong. The chief business of the modern teacher is after -all the instructing of pupils in things which they would naturally be -supposed to know already. It is certainly safer never to assume in -any grade that a student knows anything whatever until he has given -absolute proof. The weakest points in the education of the modern -student are certainly those which are continually taken for granted. - -One of the most serious obstacles in the way of bringing young people -to understand technical excellence and to appreciate literary value is -the difficulty of having school-work done with proper deliberation. It -is doubtful if any process in education can profitably be hurried; it -is certain that nothing of worth can be done in the study of literature -which is not conducted in a leisurely manner. The first care of an -instructor in this delicate and difficult branch must be to insure a -genial atmosphere: an atmosphere of tranquillity and of serenity. No -matter how tall a heap of prescribed books may block the way to the -end of the school year, each masterpiece that is dealt with should be -treated with deference and an amount of time proportioned not to its -number of pages but to the speed with which the class can assimilate -its worth and beauty. If worst comes to worst, I would have a teacher -say honestly to his pupils: "We have taken up almost all of the term -by treating what we have studied as literature instead of huddling -through it as a mechanical task. For the sake of examinations we are -forced to crowd the other books in. The process is not fair to them or -to you; so do not make the mistake of supposing that this is the proper -way of treating real books." Children who have been properly trained -will understand the situation and will appreciate the justice of the -proposition. - -In this connection is of interest the remark of an undergraduate -who said that he obtained his first impression of style and of the -effectiveness of words from translating. "I suppose the truth is," -he explained with intelligence, "that in English I never read slowly -enough to get anything more than the story or what was said. When I was -grubbing things out line by line and word by word I at last got an idea -of what my teachers had meant when they talked about the effect of the -choice of words." Many of us can look back to the days when we learned -grammar from Latin rather than from English, although we had been over -much the same thing in our own tongue. In the foreign language we had -to go deliberately and we had to apply the principles we learned. Only -when the student is treating literature so slowly and thoroughly that -these conditions are reproduced does he come to any comprehension of -style or indeed of the real value of literature. - -Readers of all ages naturally and normally read anything the first -time for the intellectual content: for the story, for the information, -for that meaning, in short, which is the appeal to the intellectual -comprehension. The great majority are entirely satisfied to go no -farther. They do not, indeed, perceive the reason for going farther; -and they are too often left in ignorance of the fact that they have -entirely missed the qualities which entitle what they have read to be -considered literature in the higher sense. - -In this they are often encouraged, moreover, by the unhappy practice -of making paraphrases. The paraphrasing of masterpieces is to me -nothing less than a sacrilege. It degrades the work of art in the mind -of the child, and contradicts the fundamental principle that poetry -exists solely because it expresses what cannot be adequately said in -any other way. A paraphrase bears the same relation to a lyric, for -instance, that a drop of soapy water does to the iridescent bubble -of which it was once the film. The old cry against the selection of -passages from Milton for exercises in parsing should be repeated with -triple force against the use of literature as material for children to -translate from the words of the poet into their own feeble phraseology. -The parsing was by far the lesser evil. It is often necessary to have -an oral explanation of difficult passages; but this should be always -expressly presented as simply a means to help the child to get at -the real significance of a lyric, a sort of ladder to climb by. Any -paraphrasing and explaining should be carefully held to its place as an -inadequate and unfortunate necessity. The class should never be allowed -to think that any paraphrase really represents a poet, or that it is to -be regarded in any light but that of apologetic tolerance. - -In this matter of workmanship, as everywhere else in the process of -dealing with literature, much depends upon the character of the class. -Much must always be left unaccomplished, and much is always wisely -left even unattempted. Often the teacher must go farther in individual -cases than would naturally have been the case in a given grade -because questions will be asked which lead on. It is often necessary, -for instance, to explain that the crowding forward of events made -unavoidable by stage conditions is not a violation of truth, but a -conforming to the truth of art. A lad will object that things could not -move forward so rapidly, and it is then wise to show him that dramatic -truth does not include faithfulness to time, but may condense the -events of days into an hour so long as it is true to human nature and -to the effects those events would have had if occurring at intervals -however great. Again children will object in a tale that the incidents -are not likely to have happened; and it is then necessary to make clear -the distinction between probability and possibility, and how fiction -may deal with either. These matters, however, are to be left to the -intelligence of the individual instructor. If he cannot manage them -wisely without advice, he cannot do it with arbitrary rules. - -For a last word on the matter of training students in the appreciation -of literary form and workmanship I should offer a warning against -attempting too much. Something is certainly unavoidable, but of -minutiæ it is well to exercise what Burke calls "a wise and salutary -neglect." Literary language must be learned or all intelligent work is -utterly impossible; since form is an important element in all artistic -language, it is not possible to ignore this. The extent to which work -can and should go in the study of form in a given class is one of the -matters which the instructor has to decide; and when he has decided it -he must resolutely refuse to allow himself to be unhappy because in the -great realm of literature are so many noble tracts of which he has not -even hinted to his class the existence. If he has done the lesser work -well he has at least put his students in a condition to do the greater -for themselves; if he had attempted more he might have accomplished -nothing. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[212:1] Page 36. - - - - -XVI - -LITERARY BIOGRAPHY - - -How far the biography of authors shall be a part of the school-work is -a question which deserves attention. I began these talks by calling -attention to the fact that it is so much easier to teach details -about the life of a writer than it is to train the youthful mind to a -true appreciation of literature itself. Teachers naturally and almost -unconsciously fall into the habit of over-emphasizing this division of -the history of literature, and questions about the lives of authors are -dangerously easy to formulate for recitation or for examination-paper. -Nothing, however, should be allowed to obscure the idea that the work -and not the worker is the thing with which study should be concerned; -and everybody would agree that in theory the limit to biographical -inquiry in secondary-school study is the extent to which a knowledge of -an author's career or personality aids to the understanding of what he -has written. - -To say this, however, is much like restating the question. Like a good -deal that passes for argument, it only puts the problem in other words; -for we are at once confronted with the doubt how far a pupil in the -secondary school is likely to be helped by knowing about the facts of -a writer's life. At the beginning of the "Spectator" Addison remarks: - - I have observed that a reader seldom peruses a book with - pleasure, till he knows whether the writer of it be a black - or a fair man, of a mild or choleric disposition, married or - a bachelor, with other particulars of the like nature, that - conduce very much to the right understanding of an author. - -I may frankly confess that this is so entirely untrue of myself that -I am perhaps not a fair judge for others. Since it is to me a matter -almost of indifference who wrote a book, where or when he lived, what -he was and what he did, I have not perhaps estimated rightly the -effect of biography on children. I am firm in my belief, however, that -for making literature more clear, more vivid, more attractive, the -effect of a knowledge of the author's life is with children apt to be -practically nothing. If they are interested in a book, they may on that -account like to know something of the man who wrote it, but I have yet -to find a student who really cared for a piece of literature because he -had been made to learn facts about the author. That a book was written -in a given age will account to him for fashions of thought strange -to-day, but he is seldom able to carry such analysis beyond the most -general idea. - -In regard to helping scholars in the secondary schools to understand -a given piece of literature by instructing them about the personality -of the writer, I am quite as skeptical. It may be that one lad in a -hundred may come to a better appreciation of a book from what he knows -of the temperament of the author. It is possible to point this out in -occasional striking instances. If a boy read "A Modest Proposal," a -teacher naturally calls attention to the character of Swift as having -determined the ferocious form which this plea for humanity has taken; -in dealing with "The Journal of the Plague Year" it is inevitable that -the instructor speak of the journalistic tendency of Defoe, which led -him to write on topics which were at the moment before the public. In -either case the result is not important in the sense of going much -beyond what the student may be made to feel without any mention of the -writer or the writer's peculiarities. - -It is very easy to delude ourselves into feeling that we are being -helpful when in reality we are simply being pedagogic. If our pupils -were so far advanced as to be able to perceive the subtle relations -between character and literature, between the nature of a writer and -the interpretation we are to put upon what he has written, they would -in most cases be better fitted to instruct us than to receive any -instruction we are able to furnish. It is sometimes well to give pupils -things which we are aware they cannot grasp; to show them the existence -of lines of thought which they are not yet qualified to carry out. -Our aim in this is to broaden their perceptions, and to direct them -toward truths which later they may investigate for themselves. In the -secondary schools, however, very little of this sort can be profitably -done in connection with anything so complex and subtle as the relation -of the character of an author to his work. Young people must take -literature at its face value, so to say, and in teaching them to do -this is more than room for all the energies a teacher in these grades -can bring to bear. - -The history of literature, its development, its relations to the -evolution of human thought, should all be as far as possible familiar -to the teacher; and no instructor with knowledge and enthusiasm is -likely to ignore any of these in dealing with masterpieces. They must -all, however, be brought forward with care, for it is easy to overwhelm -the mind of the young, especially in an age like the present when a -child goes to school with attention already strained by the imperative -and insistent calls of daily life. Students on leaving the high school -should be familiar with the place in the centuries of authors they have -especially studied, and of the score or so of writers most important -in English literature from Chaucer down. With the exact details of -biography they need not have been concerned. If they have had curiosity -enough to look these up as a matter of individual interest, it is -well, although I am not sure that anything is gained by encouraging -this research. To know of Shakespeare, of Chaucer, and of Milton, for -instance, what may be put into a dozen lines; and of lesser writers to -have proportionate information, seems to me ample. The work and not the -worker is of importance; the book and not the author; the poem and not -the poet. - -Many teachers will not agree with me in giving to the personality and -the biographies of writers so small a place. Every man must judge by -his own experience, and I can only say that every year I deal with -classes in literature I find myself deliberately giving less attention -to the history of literature. I have insisted already upon the danger -that such study shall take the place of the consideration of literature -itself, and I have now attempted to reënforce that thought by stating -definitely what it seems to me wise to attempt in the secondary -schools. I do not desire to be dogmatic, however, and here as elsewhere -the conclusion of the whole matter is that while the question of the -wisdom of giving extended instruction in literary history or biography -is to be carefully considered, each instructor must frame the answer -according to personal experience and the individual needs of any given -class. - - - - -XVII - -VOLUNTARY READING - - -No teacher who is really concerned with the development of the pupil's -mind can afford to ignore outside influences. Indeed, even were a -teacher conceivable who, consciously or unconsciously, cared only to -drag scholars over the prescribed course, he would yet be forced to -take into account the effect of every-day life and circumstance, and -under existing conditions every teacher is sure to find that he is to -a great extent obliged to do the work of the home in all that relates -to the æsthetic training of a large number of children. In teaching -literature it is not only wise but it is easy to discover and to a -large extent to influence whatever reading pupils do of their own will -outside of the required work. - -Thoroughly to accomplish all that a teacher desires, or even all that -is often expected of him, would be possible only to the gods; and it -is evident enough that no instructor can exercise complete parental -supervision over all the life of the pupils under him. Certain things -in the training of the young are accomplished at home or go forever -undone. Perhaps the most serious difficulty in this whole complicated -business of education is that the schoolmaster is so largely called -upon to undo what is done outside the schoolroom. He may at least be -thankful that in the matter of reading he is dealing with something -tangible, something in which so many of his flock may with skilful -management be influenced. - -In a leaflet published under the auspices of the New England -Association of Teachers of English, "The Voluntary Reading of High -School Scholars," Professor W. C. Bronson, of Brown University, -comments on the fact that the mind of the young person is likely to -perceive little relation between the literature administered at school -and the books voluntarily read outside. He says: - - Many of our high-school youth are leading a double life in - things literary: in the class-room Doctor Jekyll studies the - lofty idealism of "Comus" or "Paradise Lost;" outside, Mr. - Hyde revels in the yellow journalism and the flashy novel; and - in many cases Doctor Jekyll does not even realize that he has - changed into another and lower being. - -The difficulty in making boys and girls realize a connection between -school-work and actual life is familiar to every teacher. I am -personally convinced that one reason for this—although obviously not -the only one—is the modern tendency to diminish the sense of value and -necessity by too much yielding to the inclination of the child. Coaxing -along the line of the least resistance is sure to produce an effective -even if hardly conscious indifference, which is far less healthy than -the temper of mind bred by insistence upon progress along the line -of duty. Be that as it may, however, the modern scholar generally -regards school as one thing and life as practically another. Books read -in the class-room, books studied, discussed as a part of formal and -required work, are felt to be remote from daily existence and almost as -something a bit unreal. They may be even enjoyed, and yet seem to the -illogical youthful mind as having a certain adult quality which sets -them apart from any vital connection with the life of youth. It is not -uncommon, I believe, for a boy to like a book in his private capacity, -reading it for simple and unaffected pleasure, and yet to feel it -almost a duty to be bored by the same book when it comes up as a part -of the work of the school-room. - -Very likely a hint of the explanation of the whole matter is to be -found in this last fact. In the first place the work of the schoolroom, -however gently administered, represents compulsion, and we have -trained the rising generation to feel that compulsion is a thing to -be abhorred. Perhaps nothing could ever make school-work the same -as the life which is voluntary and spontaneous; but modern methods -have generally not succeeded in minimizing this difficulty. In the -second place, teachers are too often uncareful or unable to soften the -differences between reading without responsibility of thoroughness -and reading with the consciousness that class-room questionings may -lie beyond. Almost any child has the power of treating a book or a -poem as a friend when he reads for pleasure and of regarding the same -book as an enemy when it becomes a lesson. The thing is normal and not -unhealthy; but it is to be reckoned with and counteracted. - -Professor Bronson, in his brief discussion of the matter, goes on to -remark that where the Jekyll and Hyde attitude of mind exists—which to -some degree, I believe, would be in every pupil— - - The first task of the teacher is to make the pupil fully - realize it and to urge upon him the necessity of discrimination - in his voluntary reading. For this purpose ridicule of trashy - books by name and praise of good books, with reasons why they - are good, may well fill the part of a recitation period, now - and then, even though the routine work suffer a little. For the - same purpose, it is very desirable that more of the best modern - literature be made a part of the English course, especially - in the earlier years, when the pupil's taste is forming, for - it is easier to bring such works into close relation with his - voluntary reading. The teacher of English may also consider - himself recreant if he does not give his class advice about - the reading of magazines and instructions how to read the - newspapers. - -With the spirit of this I agree entirely. The letter does not seem -to me entirely satisfactory. I have learned to be a little afraid -of ridicule as a means of affecting the minds of the young in any -direction. It is the easiest of methods, but no less is it the one -which requires the most prudence and delicacy. It is the one which is -most surely open to the error of the point of view. If the teacher -tries to lessen the inclination of pupils for specific books by -ridicule, he can do no good unless he is able to make the class feel -that these books are ridiculous not only according to the standards of -the teacher but according to the standard of the child. To prove that -from the instructor's point of view a book is poor and silly amounts -to little if the work really appeals to the young. No more is effected -than would be accomplished if the teacher told lusty lads that to him -playing ball seemed a foolish form of amusement. They appreciate at -once that he is speaking from a point of view which is not theirs and -which they have no wish to share. He must be able to make it evident -that the book in question, with its attractions, which he must frankly -acknowledge, is poor when judged by standards which the pupils feel to -be true and which belong to the sphere of boyhood. - -I confess with contrition that in my zeal for good literature I have in -earlier days spoken contemptuously of popular and trashy books which -I had reason to think my boys probably enjoyed and admired. I believe -I was wrong. Now I do not hesitate to say what I think about any book -when a student asks me, but I make it a rule never in class to attack -specific books or authors for anything but viciousness, and that -question is hardly likely to arise in the secondary schools. I cannot -afford to run the risk of alienating the sympathies of my pupils, -and of arousing a feeling that my point of view is so far removed -from theirs that they cannot trust my opinions to be sympathetic. -The normal attitude of the child toward the adult is likely enough -to be that of believing "grown-ups" to be so far from understanding -what children really care for as to be entirely untrustworthy in the -selection of reading. The child disregards or distrusts the judgments -of his elders not on abstract grounds, but merely from an instinctive -feeling that adults do not look at things from his point of view. I -always fear lest by an unwise condemnation of a book which a lad has -enjoyed I may be strengthening this perfectly natural and inevitably -stubborn conviction. - -The first and most important means of influencing outside reading -is by impressing upon the child's mind the idea that he is studying -literature chiefly for the sake of reading to himself and for himself. -About this should be no doubt or uncertainty. No child should for -a moment be allowed to suppose that such dealing with books as is -possible in the school-room can be chiefly for its own sake, can be -so much an end as a means. To allow him to suppose that the few works -he goes over can be held adequately to represent the great literary -treasures of the race, or that he can be supposed to do more than to -learn how to deal with literature for himself, is at once to make -instruction in this branch more an injury than a benefit. It would -be no more reasonable than to allow him to think that he learns the -multiplication-table for the sake of his school "sums" rather than -that he may have an effective tool to help him in the practical affairs -of life. - -To influence outside work of any sort is difficult, especially in -city schools where the pupils are subject to so many distractions. -The teacher is generally obliged to make his effort in this direction -almost entirely individual, treating no two scholars exactly in the -same way, and he is not infrequently obliged to employ a considerable -amount of shrewdness in the process. "When I wish to talk to John Smith -about his reading," a clever teacher said in my hearing, "I send to him -to see me about his spelling, or his handwriting, or anything to give -an excuse for a chat. Then I bring in the thing I am aiming at as if by -accident." The number of instructors possessed of the adroitness, the -time, and the patience for this sort of finesse is probably not large; -but much may be done by words dropped apparently by chance, if only the -instructor has the matter earnestly at heart. - -How far the relation of books in the required reading to books read -voluntarily may profitably be insisted upon in class must depend -largely upon the particular pupils involved. Every teacher will -certainly do well to find out what his students are reading outside, -if they are reading anything, and he should then consider what use to -make of his knowledge. The very fact that he concerns himself about -the matter will call the attention of the class to the fact that a -connection exists; and that it is real enough to be worth heeding. -Any wise teacher will find an advantage in having indications of the -natural tastes and inclinations of those he is trying to train, and to -know what the boys and girls really like to read will often correct a -tendency to speak of the required readings in a tone that is outside -the range of the sympathies of the scholars. If he knows that the girls -are fond of weeping over "The Broken Heart of the Barmaid," that the -boys revel in "The Bloody Boot-jack," that both find "Mrs. Pigs of the -Potato-patch" exquisitely amusing, he sees at once that he must be -cautious in dwelling on the pathos of "Evangeline," the romance of "The -Flight of a Tartar Tribe," or the humor of Charles Lamb. Children fed -on intellectual viands so coarse would find real literature insipid, -and must be trained with frank acceptance of that fact. - -To say that teachers may also often do something in the way of arousing -parents to do their part in guiding the reading of children is to go -somewhat outside of my field. The public asks so much of teachers -already that any hint of labor in the homes of pupils seems—and -in many cases would be—nothing less than the suggestion of an -impossibility. If I were to urge the matter, I should do it purely on -the ground that teachers may sometimes greatly lessen the difficulty -of the task they undertake in the school-room by a little judicious -labor in the home. In the public schools to-day many children, perhaps -even a majority, come from homes wherein no literary standard is -apparent, and where for the most part none exists. They are being given -a training which their parents did not have, and they feel themselves -better able to direct their elders in things intellectual than their -fathers and mothers are to advise them. In these cases, certainly very -numerous, the teacher must accept the inevitable, and do what he can by -inducing his pupils to talk with him about their outside reading. Where -parents are more cultivated, much may often be effected by the simple -request or suggestion that the young folk be supervised a little in the -choice of books. The teacher must of course use tact in doing anything -in this line, especially in those cases where such a request is most -needed. Parents who pay least attention to such matters are especially -likely to resent interference with their prerogative of neglecting -their children, though they may generally be reached by the flattery -of a carefully phrased request for coöperation. Few things are more -delicate to handle than neglected duties, and the fathers and mothers -who shirk all responsibility for the mental training of their offspring -must be approached as if they jealously tried to leave nothing in this -line for any teacher to do. - -The most common fault of young people to-day in connection with reading -is the neglect of books altogether or the devouring of fiction of a -poor quality. To urge boys and girls to read good books or to admonish -them to avoid poor ones is seldom likely to effect much. Such direct -and general appeal is sure to seem to them part of the teacher's -professional routine work, and not to alter their inclinations or to -make any especial difference with their practice. Children are led -to care for good reading only by being made acquainted with books -that appeal to them; and they are protected against poor or injurious -reading only by being given a taste for what is better. - -This summing-up of the situation is easily made, but how to make -children acquainted in a vital and pleasant fashion with good books and -how to cultivate the taste is really the whole problem which we are -studying. This is the aim and the substance of all genuine teaching -of literature, and everything in these talks is an attempt to help -toward an answer. When the problem of voluntary reading has been -satisfactorily solved the work of the teacher is practically done, -for the pupil is sure to go forward in the right direction whether he -is led or not. All that treatment of literature which for convenience -I have called "inspirational" is directly in the line of developing -and raising the taste of young readers, and beyond this I do not see -that specific rules can be given. Personal influence is after all -what tells, and the most that can be done here is to call attention -to the fact that in so far as a teacher can influence and direct the -voluntary reading of a pupil he has secured a most efficient aid to his -school-work in literature. - - - - -XVIII - -IN GENERAL - - -Throughout these talks I have tried to deal with the teaching of -literature in practical fashion, not letting theory lead me to forget -the conditions actually existing. To consider an ideal state of things -might be interesting, but it would hardly help the teacher bothered -by the difficulties of every-day school-work. I have intended always -to keep well within the field of ordinary experience, and to make -suggestions applicable to average teaching. How well I have succeeded -can be judged better by teachers than by me; but I wish in closing -to insist that at least I believe that what I have said is every-day -common sense. - -I have throughout assumed always that no teacher worthy of the name -can be content with merely formal or conventional results, but will be -determined that pupils shall be brought to some understanding of what -literature really is and of why it is worthy of serious attention—to -some appreciation, in a word, of literature as an art. If an instructor -could be satisfied with fitting boys and girls for examinations, -nothing could be simpler or easier; but I am sure that I am right in -believing that our public-school teachers are eagerly anxious to -make of this study all that is possible in the line of developing and -ennobling their pupils. - -Every earnest teacher knows that literature cannot be taught by -arbitrary methods. The handling of classes studying the masterpieces -of genius must be shaped by the knowledge and the inspiration of the -individual teacher or it is naught. Neither I nor another may give a -receipt for strengthening the imagination, for instilling taste, for -arousing enthusiasm. All that any book of this sort can effect, and all -that I have endeavored to do, is to protest against methods that are -formal and deadening, to offer suggestions which may—even if only by -disagreement—help to make definite the teacher's individual ideas, and -to warn against dangers which beset the path of all of us to whom is -committed the high office of teaching this noble art. - -The idea which I have hoped most strongly to enforce is the possibility -of arousing in children, even in those bred without refining or -intellectual influences, an appreciation of the spirit and the -teachings of the great writers, a love for good books which may -lead them to go on with the study after they have passed beyond the -school-room. The best literature is so essentially human, it so truly -and so irresistibly appeals to natural instincts and interests, that -for its appreciation nothing is needed but that it be understood. To -produce and to cultivate such understanding should be, I believe, the -chief aim of any course in literature. - -The understanding and the appreciation must of course vary according -to the temperament and the responsiveness of the child. Miracles are -not to be expected. No teacher need suppose that the street Arab and -the newsboy will lie down with Browning and rise up with Chaucer; that -Sally and Molly will give up chewing gum for Shakespeare, or that Tom, -Dick, and Harry will prefer Wordsworth to football. In his own way and -to his own degree, however, each child will enjoy whatever literature -he has comprehended. As far as he can be made to care for anything not -directly personal or appealing to the senses, he may be made to care -for this. Nature has taken care of the matter of fitting children to -understand and to love literature as it has prepared them to desire -life. To bring the young into appreciation of the best that has been -thought and recorded by man, there is but one way: make them familiar -with it. - -It is a mistake to suppose, moreover, that an especial sort of books is -needed for children. A selection there should be, and it is manifestly -necessary to exercise common sense in choice of works for study. A -class that will be deeply interested in "Macbeth" would be simply -puzzled and bored by "Troilus and Cressida." Childish games for the -intellect there may be, as there are childish amusements for the body; -but so far as serious training is concerned there is neither adult -literature nor juvenile literature, but simply literature. - -The range of the mind of a child is limited, and the experience -demanded for the simplest comprehension of a work may be necessarily -beyond the possible reach of child life.[240:1] The limitations of -youth have, however, and should have, the same effect in literature as -in life. They restrict the comprehension and the appreciation of the -facts of existence, and equally they restrict the comprehension and -the appreciation of the facts in what is read. The impressions which -the child takes from what he sees or from what he reads are not those -of his elders, although this is less generally true of emotions than -of facts. The important point is that the impressions shall be vital -and wholesome, and above all else that they be true with the actual -verity of human experience. We all commit errors in the conclusions we -draw from life; and children will make mistakes in the lessons they -draw from books. Books which are wise and sane, however, will sooner or -later correct any misconceptions they beget, just as life in time makes -clear the false conclusions which life itself has produced. - -I have spoken more or less about the enjoyment of this study by -children, and it is difficult if not impossible to conceive that if -a class is rightly handled most children will not find the work a -pleasure. It is necessary, however, to be a little on our guard in the -practical application of the principle that children get nothing out -of literature unless they enjoy it. They certainly cannot enjoy it -unless they get something out of it; but it will hardly do to make the -enjoyment of a class too entirely the test by which to decide what work -the class shall do. Pupils should be stimulated to solid effort in the -way of application and concentration, and I have already pointed out -that in mastering the difficulties of literary language they should -be made to do whatever drudgery is needed, whether they are inclined -to it or not. They cannot, moreover, read with intelligence anything -with real thought in it, until they have learned concentration of mind. -Children, like their elders, value most what has cost something to -attain, and facile enjoyment may mean after-indifference. - -The contagion of enthusiasm is one of the means by which children are -most surely induced to put forth their best efforts to understand and -to assimilate. If the teacher is genuinely enthusiastic in his love -for a masterpiece, even if this be something that might seem to be -over the heads of the children, he arouses them in a way impossible -of attainment by any other means. A boy once said to me with that -shrewdness which is characteristic of youth, "My teacher didn't -like that book, and we all knew it by the way she praised it." Sham -enthusiasm does not deceive children; but they are always impressed by -the genuine, and no influence is more powerful. - -The most serious obstacle which teachers of literature to-day meet -with, I am inclined to think, is the difficulty children have in -seizing abstract ideas.[241:1] So long as study and instruction are -confined to the concrete and the particular the pupil works with -good will and intelligence. The moment the boundary is crossed into -the region of the general, he becomes confused, baffled, and unable -to follow. The algebra of life is too much for the brain which is -accustomed to deal only with definite values. What is evidently needed -all along the line is the cultivation of the reasoning powers in the -ability to deal with abstract thought. Personally I believe that this -could be best secured by the simplification of the work in the lower -grades, and by the introduction of thorough courses in English grammar -and the old-fashioned mental arithmetic. If some forty per cent. of -the present curriculum could be suppressed altogether, and then ten -per cent. of the time gained given to these two admirable branches, -the results of training in the lower grades, I am convinced, would -show an enormous improvement. I may be wrong in this, and in any case -we must deal with things as they exist; and the teacher of literature -must accept the fact that he has largely to train his class in breadth -of thinking. He will be able to deal with generalizations only so far -as he is assured that his students will grasp them, and this will -generally mean so far as he is able to teach them to deal with this -class of ideas. - - * * * * * - -This book has stretched beyond the limits which in the beginning were -set for it, and in the end the one thing of which I am most conscious -is of having accomplished the emphasizing of the difficulties of the -branch of work with which it is concerned. If I have done nothing more -than that, I have discouraged where I meant to help; and I can only -hope that at least between the lines if not in the actual statements -may be found by the earnest and hard-working teachers of the land—that -class too little appreciated and worthy so much honor—hints which will -make easier and more effective their dealing with this most important -and most difficult requirement of the modern curriculum. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[240:1] See pages 68-70. - -[241:1] See page 112. - - - - -INDEX - - - Abilities of children differ, 30, 60. - - Abstract ideas, 23, 112-115. - - Acting out poems, 94. - - Addison, _De Coverley Papers_, 128, 138, 146-150; - _Spectator_, 146, 223. - - Analysis _vs._ synthesis, 21. - - Art, literature an, 53; - not to be translated into words, 2; - purpose of, 1, 73. - - - Bach, _Passion Music_, 116. - - Beethoven, 53; - _Ninth Symphony_, 116. - - Biography, literary, 222-226. - - Blake, William, quoted, 31; - _The Tiger_, 93, 96-108. - - Bronson, W. C., _Voluntary Reading_, 228, 230. - - Brown, Dr. John, quoted, 79. - - Browning, 72, 115, 239; - _How they Brought the Good News_, 113; - _The Lost Leader_, 114. - - Burke, 221; - _Speech on Conciliation_, 37, 65, 138-146. - - Byron, _Destruction of Sennacherib_, 133, 215. - - - Carlyle, _Burns_, 213. - - Chaucer, 225, 239. - - Children, abilities differ, 30, 60; - at disadvantage, 118; - comply mechanically, 93; - conceal feeling, 85; - do not know how to study, 46-48; - know when bored, 52; - learn life by living, 19; - must be taught in own language, 68; - must do own work, 58; - must form estimates, 70; - not affected by preaching, 18; - puzzled by literature, 49; - responsive to metrical effects, 117; - skip morals, 89; - their world, 18, 79; - too much demanded of, 45; - understand only through personal experience, 15, 67. - - Coleridge, 72; - _Ancient Mariner_, 37, 84, 85, 181. - - College entrance requirements, 8, 30, 138, 213; - books, 34-38; - editors of, 6. - - Conventionality, how met, 197. - - Cook, May Estelle, _Methods of Teaching Novels_, 128. - - "Cramming," 59. - - Criticism, 193-206; - asked of pupils, 44; - of trashy books, 231; - must take pupil's point of view, 231. - - - Decker, quoted, 169. - - Defoe, _Journal of the Plague Year_, 224. - - Deliberation in work necessary, 217. - - Description, how written by pupils, 127. - - De Quincey, 211; - definition of literature, 123; - _Flight of a Tartar Tribe_, 234. - - Diagrams, futility of, 6. - - Dickens, quoted, 7, 202. - - Didactic literature, 22, 109. - - - Edgeworth, Maria, _Parents' Assistant_, 23. - - Eliot, George, 129; - _Silas Marner_, 5, 32, 37, 56, 127, 152, 197. - - Emerson, 211; - quoted, 65. - - Emotion, aim of literature to arouse, 85; - in literature, 2, 90; - the motive power, 24. - - Enthusiasm, connected with culture, 24; - contagious, 241; - necessary in teaching, 55; - justification of, 57; - reason to be reached through, 40, 50. - - _Evangeline_, 234; - questions on, 42, 43, 45. - - Examinational teaching, 74, 121-135. - - Examinations, 28, 44, 70, 184; - an Institute paper, 130-135; - best prepared for by broad teaching, 122; - boy's view of, 8, 9; - danger of, 40; - entrance, 35, 45; - inevitable, 121; - necessarily a makeshift, 4; - not the aim in teaching, 28, 73; - study for, 121-130; - valuable only as tests, 121; - what counts in, 125; - what examinations should test, 44. - - - Fables, truth of, 21. - - Fielding, _Tom Jones_, 202. - - - Goldsmith, _Vicar of Wakefield_, 44, 56, 152. - - - Hawthorne, quoted, 167. - - _Heart of Oak Series_, 91. - - Honesty essential in teaching, 54. - - - Illustrations, care in using, 211. - - _Il Percone_, 32. - - Imagination essential in study of literature, 3; - not created but developed, 53; - nourished by literature, 26. - - Inspirational use of literature, 74, 88-95, 117, 236. - - Irving, _Life of Goldsmith_, 37. - - _Ivanhoe_, 37, 152; - quoted, 169; - study of, 159-163. - - - Johnson, Samuel, quoted, 91. - - "Juvenile" literature, 80. - - - Lamb, Charles, 234. - - Language of literature, 63-67, 118; - of pupils, 64, 68-70; - value judged by effect, 209. - - Life, "realities of," 20. - - Limitations, inevitable, 46-48; - must be accepted, 31, 196; - youthful, 240. - - Litchfield, Mary E., quoted, 77. - - Literature, a Fine Art, 53; - aim of, 85; - algebraic, 112; - approached through personal experience, 67, 69; - deals with abstract ideas, 67; - difficulty in teaching, 28-38; - defined by De Quincey, 123; - essentially human, 238; - history of, 40, 222; - "juvenile," 80, 239; - language of, 63-67, 118; - measured by life, 56; - must be connected with life, 68; - must be taught in language of learner, 68; - not didactic, 22, 109; - not taught by arbitrary methods, 238; - nourishes imagination, 26; - pupils indifferent to, 48; - relation to life, 110; - reproduces mood, 116; - symbolic, 113; - truth in, 112-114; - vocabulary of, 74; - why included in school course, 11-27. - _See_ Study of Literature; Teaching of Literature; Literary - Workmanship. - - Literary appreciation, may be unconscious, 93. - - Literary workmanship, 207-221. - - Longfellow, 83; - _Evangeline_, 42, 43, 45. - - - Macaulay, 211, 214; - _Life of Johnson_, 37; - _Milton_, 35, 36, 212, 213. - - _Macbeth_, 3, 5, 37, 40, 57, 69, 76, 77, 83, 85, 118, 124, 202; - false explanations of words in, 63; - Miss Cook on, 128; - note on, 32; - study of, 165-192. - - _Machiavellus_, 32. - - Memorizing, 191. - - _Merchant of Venice_, 6, 81, 118. - - Metrical effects, 116; - beyond ordinary students, 186; - children susceptible to, 117; - in _Evangeline_, 43; - relation to character, 119; - study of, 94; - _vs._ intellectual content, 216. - - Middleton, _Witch_, 32. - - Milton, 15, 53, 117, 220, 225; - _Comus_, 34, 85, 117, 228; - _Il Penseroso_, 34, 41, 190; - _L'Allegro_, 34, 41, 190; - _Lycidas_, 34, 117; - _Paradise Lost_, 123, 127, 131, 228. - - _Milton_, Macaulay's, 35, 36, 212, 213. - - Moral, drawn by children, 129; - not to be drawn by teacher, 71-73, 163, 164, 198; - skipped by children, 89. - - - North, _Plutarch's Lives_, 170. - - Notes, 75, 136; - to be studied first, 76. - - Novel, study of, 152-164. - - - _Å’dipus_, 202. - - Oral recitation, 180, 184, 198. - - Originality in children, 43. - - - Parables, truth of, 21-22. - - Paraphrases, 219. - - Plutarch, 170. - - Poetry, compared with prose, 211-217; - nature of, 215. - - Point of departure, 83, 143. - - Point of view, 82, 149, 180. - - Pope, quoted, 211. - - Praise, not to be given beforehand, 70; - when wise, 71. - - Prose, compared with poetry, 212-217. - - - Quicken tree, 168. - - - Raleigh, 25, 26, 64, 215. - - Raphael, _Dresden Madonna_, 57. - - Ray, 168. - - Reading, aloud, 61, 154, 177; - final, of play, 186; - first, of play, 176-179; - in concert, 62; - intelligent, basis of study, 61-67; - second, of play, 179-186; - voluntary, 227-236. - - Readings, disputed, 185. - - Reference, books of, 136, 137. - - Rembrandt, 208; - _The Night Watch_, 57. - - Riche, Barnabie, quoted, 167. - - Ridicule, danger of, 230. - - Roosevelt, President, 57. - - - Sarcasm, forbidden, 199. - - Scott, _Ivanhoe_, 37, 152, 159-163, 169; - _Lady of the Lake_, 37. - - Shakespeare, 13, 16, 46, 47, 48, 49, 53, 57, 69, 72, 90, 117, 119, - 129, 142, 168, 170, 181, 183, 184, 186, 187, 191, 206, 211, - 212, 213, 225, 239; - _Hamlet_, 77, 127; - ill-judged notes on, 32; - _Julius Cæsar_, 34; - _Lear_, 168; - _Macbeth_, 3, 5, 32, 37, 40, 57, 63, 69, 76, 77, 83, 85, 118, 128, - 165-192, 202, 239; - _Merchant of Venice_, 6, 81, 118; - _Midsummer Night's Dream_, 32; - _Othello_, 83, 167; - quoted, 205; - reason of greatness unexplained, 55; - _Richard III_, 166; - _Romeo and Juliet_, 6; - _Tempest_, 118; - _Troilus and Cressida_, 239. - - _Silas Marner_, 5, 37, 56, 127, 152, 197; - note on, 32. - - _Sir Roger de Coverley Papers_, 128, 138; - study of, 146-150. - - _Speech on Conciliation_, 37, 65; - study of, 138-146. - - Stevenson, _Treasure Island_, 152-159. - - Swift, _A Modest Proposal_, 224. - - Study of literature, in lower grades, 30; - must be deliberate, 217; - not study about literature, 40; - not study of notes, 34; - object of, 27, 29, 31; - obstacles to to-day, 39-60; - overweighted with details, 187; - puzzling to students, 47, 48; - test of success in, 30; - used as gymnasium, 88. - - Summary, not a criticism, 204. - - Supernatural, the, 84; - in _Macbeth_, 181; - in _The Ancient Mariner_, 181. - - Superstition, about witch, 173; - about quicken tree, 168. - - Synthesis _vs._ analysis, 21. - - - Teacher asks too much, 41-46; - ignores strain on pupil, 80; - must have clear ideas, 27, 49, 149; - must take things as they are, 39; - not clear as to object, 49; - not equal to demands, 53-60; - obliged to do work of home, 227; - to lead, not to drive, 58. - - Teaching, helping to extend ideas, 210; - method in, 136, 224. - - Teaching of literature, aim of, 11-27, 69-70, 236; - cannot be done by rule, 86, 138; - choice of selections in, 90-92; - confused methods, 6; - deals with emotion, 2; - educational, 3, 74, 109-120; - examinational, 3, 74, 121-135; - fine passages taken up in, 80; - importance of reading aloud in, 61; - inspirational, 49, 74, 88-95, 117; - must be adapted to average mind, 89; - preliminary, 74-87; - uncertainty in, 1-10; - written work in, 126. - - Technique, instruction in. _See_ Workmanship, literary. - - Tennyson, 49; - _Elaine_, 37; - _Merlin and Vivian_, 170; - _Princess_, 37; - _Revenge_, 26, 215. - - Text, 136; - model, 137. - - Thoroughness, 119. - - Titian, 53, 208. - - Translating, effect of, 218. - - _Treasure Island_, study of, 152-159. - - Truth in literature, 112-114. - - - _Vicar of Wakefield_, 44, 56, 152. - - Vocabulary, growth of, 209; - Miss Litchfield's view, 77; - of Burke's _Speech_, 139; - of _Ivanhoe_, 160, 162; - of _Macbeth_, 165-171; - of prose, 137; - of _Sir Roger de Coverley_, 147; - of _Treasure Island_, 153, 155; - study of, 76-79, 125, 193; - to be learned first, 74, 110, n.; - to be learned from reference-books, 76. - - - Washington, George, 22. - - Words, value of, 16. - - Word-values, 17. - - Wordsworth, 49, 239; - _Lesson for Fathers_, 195. - - Workmanship, literary, 207-221. - - Written work, 126-130; - comparison in, 190; - description in, 127; - in study of _Macbeth_, 187-191; - supreme test in, 129. - - - The Riverside Press - - _Electrotyped and printed by H. O. Houghton & Co._ - - _Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A._ - - - - -TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES: - - -Variations in spelling and hyphenation remain as in the original. - -The following corrections have been made to the original text: - - Page 165: XIII[original has "XII"] - - Page 174: gnaw till the ship springs a leak[original has - "aleak"] - - Page 245, under "Examinations": best prepared for by broad - teaching, 122;[original has a comma] - - Page 247: Teaching of literature, aim of, 11-27, - 69-70,[original has a semi-colon] 236 - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Talks on Teaching Literature, by Arlo Bates - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALKS ON TEACHING LITERATURE *** - -***** This file should be named 50082-8.txt or 50082-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/0/8/50082/ - -Produced by Shaun Pinder, Lisa Reigel, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Talks on Teaching Literature - -Author: Arlo Bates - -Release Date: September 30, 2015 [EBook #50082] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALKS ON TEACHING LITERATURE *** - - - - -Produced by Shaun Pinder, Lisa Reigel, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: Words in italics in the original are surrounded by -_underscores_. A row of asterisks represents a thought break. Ellipses -match the original. A complete list of corrections as well as other -notes follows the text. - - - - - TALKS ON TEACHING - LITERATURE - - BY - - ARLO BATES - - [Illustration: Riverside Press colophon] - - - BOSTON AND NEW YORK - HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY - The Riverside Press, Cambridge - 1906 - - - - - COPYRIGHT 1906 BY ARLO BATES - - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - - _Published October 1906_ - - - - -These Talks are founded upon lectures delivered before the Summer -School of the University of Illinois in June, 1905. The interest which -was shown in the subject and in the views expressed encouraged me to -state rather more elaborately and in book form what I felt in regard to -a matter which is certainly of great importance, and concerning which -so many teachers are in doubt. I wish here to express my obligation to -Assistant-Professor Henry G. Pearson, who has very kindly gone over the -manuscript, and to whom I am indebted for suggestions of great value. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - I. THE PROBLEM 1 - - II. THE CONDITIONS 11 - - III. SOME DIFFICULTIES 28 - - IV. OTHER OBSTACLES 39 - - V. FOUNDATIONS OF WORK 61 - - VI. PRELIMINARY WORK 74 - - VII. THE INSPIRATIONAL USE OF LITERATURE 88 - - VIII. AN ILLUSTRATION 96 - - IX. EDUCATIONAL 109 - - X. EXAMINATIONAL 121 - - XI. THE STUDY OF PROSE 136 - - XII. THE STUDY OF THE NOVEL 152 - - XIII. THE STUDY OF _MACBETH_ 165 - - XIV. CRITICISM 193 - - XV. LITERARY WORKMANSHIP 207 - - XVI. LITERARY BIOGRAPHY 222 - - XVII. VOLUNTARY READING 227 - - XVIII. IN GENERAL 237 - - INDEX 245 - - - - - TALKS ON TEACHING - LITERATURE - - - - -I - -THE PROBLEM - - -Few earnest teachers of literature have escaped those black moments -when it seems perfectly evident that the one thing sure in connection -with the whole business is that literature cannot be taught. If they -are of sensitive conscience they are likely to have wondered at times -whether it is honest to go on pretending to give instruction in a -branch in which instruction was so obviously impossible. The more -they consider, the more evident it is that if a pupil really learns -anything _in_ literature,aEuro"as distinguished from learning _about_ -literature,aEuro"he does it himself; and they cannot fail to see that as -an art literature necessarily partakes of the nature of all art, the -quality of being inexpressible and unexplainable in any language except -its own. - -The root of whatever difficulty exists in fulfilling the requirements -of modern courses of training which have to do with literature is just -this fact. Any art, as has been said often and often, exists simply and -solely because it embodies and conveys what can be adequately expressed -in no other form. A picture or a melody, a statue or a poem, gives -delight and inspiration by qualities which could belong to nothing -else. To teach painting or music or literature is at best to talk about -these qualities. Words cannot express what the work or art expresses, -or the work itself would be superfluous; and the teacher of literature -is therefore apparently confronted with the task of endeavoring to -impart what language itself cannot say. - -So stated the proposition seems self-contradictory and absurd. Indeed -it too often happens that in actual practice it is so. Teachers weary -their very souls in necessarily fruitless endeavors to achieve the -impossible, and fail in their work because they have not clearly -apprehended what they could effect and what they should endeavor to -effect. In any instruction it is of great importance to recognize -natural and inevitable limitations, and nowhere is this more true than -in any teaching which has to do with the fine arts. In other branches -failure to perceive the natural restrictions of the subject limits the -efficiency of the teacher; in the arts it not only utterly vitiates all -work, but it gives students a fundamentally wrong conception of the -very nature of that with which they are dealing. - -In most studies the teacher has to do chiefly with the understanding, -or, to put it more exactly, with the intellect of the pupil. In dealing -with literature he must reckon constantly with the emotions also. If -he cannot arouse the feelings and the imaginations of his students, -he does not succeed in his work. Not only is this difficult in itself, -but it calls for an emotional condition in the instructor which is -not easily combined with the didactic mood required by teaching; a -condition, moreover, which begets a sensitiveness to results much -more keen than any disappointment likely to be excited by failure to -carry a class triumphantly through a lesson in arithmetic or history. -This sensitiveness constantly brings discouragement, and this in turn -leads to renewed failure. In work which requires the happiest mood -on the part of the teacher and the freest play of the imagination, -the consciousness of any lack of success increases the difficulty a -hundredfold. The teacher who is able by sheer force of determination to -manage the stupidities of a dull algebra class, may fail signally in -the attempt to make the same force carry him through an unappreciated -exercise in "Macbeth." It is true that no teaching is effective unless -the interest as well as the attention of the pupils is enlisted; -but whereas in other branches this is a condition, in the case of -literature it is a prime essential. - -The teaching of literature, moreover, is less than useless if it is -not educational as distinguished from examinational. It is greatly to -be regretted that necessity compels the holding of examinations at -all in a subject of which the worth is to be measured strictly by the -extent to which it inspires the imagination and develops the character -of the student. Any system of examinations is likely to be at best a -makeshift made inevitable by existing conditions, and it is rendered -tolerable only where teachersaEuro"often at the expense, under present -school methods, of a stress of body and of soul to be appreciated -only by those who have taughtaEuro"are able to mingle a certain amount of -education with the grinding drill of routine work. Examination papers -hardly touch and can hardly show the results of literary training which -are the only excuse for the presence of this branch in the school -curriculum. Every faithful worker who is trying to do what is best for -the children while fulfilling the requirements of the official powers -above him is face to face with the fact that the tabulated returns of -intermediates and finals do not in the least represent his best or most -laboriously achieved success. - -Under these conditions it is not strange that so many teachers are at a -loss to know what they are expected to do or what they should attempt -to do. If the teachers in the secondary schools of this country were -brought together into some Palace of Truth where absolute honesty was -forced upon them, it would be interesting and perhaps saddening to -find how few could confidently assert that they have clear and logical -ideas in regard to the teaching of literature. They would all be able -to say that they dealt with certain specified books because such work -is a prominent part of the school requirement; and many would, unless -restrained by the truth-compelling power of their environment, add -vague phrases about broadening the minds of the children. A pitiful -number would be forced to confess that they had no clear conception of -what they were to do beyond loading up the memories of the luckless -young folk with certain dead information about books to be unloaded at -the next examination, and there left forever. Too often "broadening the -mind" of the young is simple flattening it out by the dead weight of -lifeless and worthless fact. - -This uncertainty in regard to what they are to do and how they are -to do it is constantly evident in the complaints and inquiries of -teachers. "How would you teach 'Macbeth'?" one asked me. "Do you think -the sources of the plot should be thoroughly mastered?" Another wrote -me that she had always tried to make the moral lesson of "Silas Marner" -as clear and strong as possible, but that one of her boys had called -her attention to the fact that no question on such a matter had ever -appeared in the college entrance examination papers, and that she did -not know what to do. A third said frankly that she could never see -what there was in literature to teach, so she just took the questions -suggested by a text-book and confined her attention to them. If these -seem extreme cases, it is chiefly because they are put into words. -Certainly the number of instructors who are virtually in the position -of the third teacher is by no means small. - -Even the editors of "school classics" are sometimes found to be no more -enlightened than those they profess to aid, and not infrequently seem -more anxious to have the appearance of doing a scholarly piece of work -than one fitted for actual use. The devices they recommend for fixing -the attention and enlightening the darkness of children in literary -study are numerous; but not infrequently they are either ludicrous or -pathetic. A striking example is that conspicuously futile method, the -use of symbolic diagrams. The attempt to represent the poetry, the -pathos, the passion of "The Merchant of Venice" or "Romeo and Juliet" -by a diagram like a proposition in geometry seems to me not only the -height of absurdity, but not a little profane. I have examined these -cryptic combinations of lines, tangents, triangles, and circles, -with more bewilderment than comprehension, I confess; generally with -irritation; and always with the profound conviction that they could -hardly be surpassed as a means of producing confusion worse confounded -in the mind of any child whatever. Other schemes are only less wild, -and while excellent and helpful text-books are not wanting, not a -few show evidence that the writers were as little sure of what they -were trying to effect, or of how it were best effected, as the most -bewildered teacher who might unadvisedly come to them for enlightenment. - -Instruction in literature as it exists to-day in the common schools of -this country is almost always painstaking and conscientious; but it is -by no means always intelligent. The teachers who resort to diagrams are -sincerely in earnest, and no less faithful are those who at the expense -of most exhausting labor are dragging classes through the morass of -questions suggested by the least desirable of school editions of -college requirements. They dose their pupils with notes as Mrs. Squeers -dosed the poor wretches at Dotheboys Hall with brimstone and treacle. -The result is much the same in both cases. - - "Oh! Nonsense," rejoined Mrs. Squeers. . . . "They have - brimstone and treacle, partly because if they hadn't something - or other in the way of medicine they'd be always . . . giving a - world of trouble, and partly because it spoils their appetites, - and comes cheaper than breakfast and dinner." - -Certainly any child, no matter how great his natural appetite for -literature, must find the desire greatly diminished after a dose of -text-book notes. - -The difficulties of teachers in handling this branch of instruction -have been increased by the system under which work must be carried -on. The tremendous problem of educating children in masses has yet -to be solved, and it is at least doubtful if it can be worked out -successfully without a very substantial diminution of the requirements -now insisted upon. Certainly it is hardly conceivable that with the -curriculum as crowded as it is at present any teacher could do much -in the common schools with the teaching of literature. The pedagogic -committees who have fixed the college entrance requirements, moreover, -seem to have acted largely along conventional lines. In the third -place the spirit of the time is out of sympathy with art, and the -variety and insistence of outside calls on the attention and interest -of the children make demands so great as to leave the mind dull to -finer impressions. To the boy eager over football, the circus, and -the automobile race he is to see when school is out, even an inspired -teacher may talk in vain about Dr. Primrose, Lady Macbeth, or any other -of the immortals. Ears accustomed to the strident measures of the -modern street-song are not easily beguiled by the music of Milton, and -yet the teacher of to-day is expected to persuade his flock that they -should prefer "L'Allegro" to the vulgar but rollicking "rag-time" comic -songs of dime-museum and alley. Under circumstances so adverse, it is -not to be wondered at that teachers are not only discouraged but often -bewildered. - -What happens in many cases is sufficiently well shown by this extract -from a freshman composition, in which the writer frankly gives an -account of his training in English literature in a high school not -twenty-five miles from Boston: - - Very special attention was paid to the instruction of the - classics as to what the examinations require. As closely as - possible the faculty determine the scope of the examinations, - and the class is drilled in that work especially. Examination - papers are procured for several years back, and are given - to the students as regular high school examinations, and - as samples of the kind of questions to be expected. The - instructors notice especial questions that are often repeated - in examination papers, warn the pupils of them, and even go so - far as to estimate when the question will be used again. I have - heard in the classroom, "This question was given three years - ago, and it is about due again. They ask it every three or four - years." - -Another boy wrote, in the same set of themes, that he had taken the -examination in the autumn, and added: - - On the June examinations I noticed that there was nothing about - Milton, so I studied Milton with heart and soul. - -Here we find stated plainly what everybody connected with teaching -knows to be common, and indeed what under the present system is almost -inevitable. I know of many schools of no inconsiderable standing where -in all branches old examination papers, if not used as the text-books, -are at least the actual guide to all work done in the last year of -fitting for college. This is perhaps only human, and it is easy to -understand; but it certainly is not education, and of that fact both -students and teachers are entirely well aware. All this I say with -no intention of blaming anybody for what is the result of difficult -conditions. It is not well, however, to ignore what is perfectly well -known, and what is one of the important difficulties of the situation. - -The problem, then, which confronts the teacher in the secondary school -is twofold. He has to decide in the first place what the teaching of -literature can and should legitimately accomplish, and in the second, -by what means this may most surely and effectively be done. In a word, -although work in this line has been going on multitudinously and -confusedly for years, we are yet far from sufficiently definite ideas -why and how literature should be taught to children. - - - - -II - -THE CONDITIONS - - -The inclusion of literature in the list of common school studies, -however the original intent may have been lost sight of, was -undoubtedly made in the interest of general culture. It is not certain -that those who put it in had definite conceptions of methods or -results, but unquestionably their idea was to aid the development of -the children's minds by helping them to appreciate and to assimilate -thoughts of nobility and of beauty, and by fostering a love for -literature which should lead them to go on acquiring these from the -masterpieces. How clear and well defined in the minds of educators -this idea was it is needless to inquire. It is enough that it was -undoubtedly sincere, and that it was founded on a genuine faith in the -broadening and elevating influence of art. - -The importance of literature as a means of mental development used to -be taken for granted. Our fathers and grandfathers had for the classics -a reverence which the rising generation looks back to as a phase of -antiquated superstition, hardly more reasonable than the worship of -sacred wells or a belief in goblins. So much stress is now laid -upon the tangible and the material as the only genuine values, that -everything less obvious is discredited. The tendency is to take only -direct results into consideration; and influences which serve rather to -elevate character than to aid in money-getting are at best looked upon -with toleration. - -That sense of mankind, however, which depends upon the perception of -the few, and which in the long run forms the opinion of society in -spite of everything, holds still to the importance of literature in any -intelligent scheme of education. The popular disbelief makes enormously -difficult the work of the teacher, but the force of the conviction -of the wise minority keeps this branch in the schools. The sincere -teacher, therefore, naturally tries to analyze effects, and to discern -possibilities, in order to discover upon what facts the belief in the -educational value of the study of literature properly rests. - -The most obvious reasons for the study of literature may be quickly -disposed of. It is well for a student to be reasonably familiar with -the history of literature, with the names and periods of great writers. -This adds to his chances of appearing to advantage in the world, -and especially in that portion of society where he can least afford -to be at a disadvantage. He is provided with facts about books and -authors quite as much to protect him from the ill effects of appearing -ignorant as for any direct influence this knowledge will have on his -mind. Whatever the tendency of the times to undervalue in daily -life acquaintance with the more refined side of human knowledge, the -fact remains that to betray ignorance in these lines may bring real -harm to a person's social standing. Every one recognizes that among -educated people a lad is better able to make his way if he does not -confound the age of Shakespeare with that of Browning, and if he is -able to distinguish between Edmund Spenser and Herbert Spencer. Such -information may not be specially vital, but it is worth possessing. - -Considerations of this sort, however, are evidently not of weight -enough to account for the place of the study in the schools, and still -less to excuse the amount of time and attention bestowed upon it. The -same line of reasoning would defend the introduction of dancing, because - - Those move easiest who have learned to dance. - -More important and more far-reaching reasons must be found to satisfy -the teacher, and to hearten him for the severe labor of working with -class after class in the effort, not always successful, of arousing -interest and enthusiasm over the writings which go by the name of -English Classics. Some of these I may specify briefly. To deal with -them exhaustively would take a book in itself, and would leave no room -for the consideration of methods. - -A careful and intelligent study of masterpieces of prose or verse, -the teacher soon perceives, must develop greatly the student's sense -of the value of words. This is not the highest function of this work, -but it is by no means one to be despised. Literary study affords -opportunities for training of this sort which are not to be found -elsewhere; and a sensitiveness to word-values is with a child the -beginning of wisdom. - -Children too often acquire and adults follow the habit of accepting -words instead of ideas. A genuine appreciation of the worth of language -is after all the chief outward sign of the distinction between the wise -man and the dullard. One is content to receive speech as sterling coin, -and the other perceives that words are but counters. If students could -but appreciate the difference between apprehending and comprehending -what they are taught, between learning words and assimilating ideas, -the intellectual millennium would be at hand. Children need to learn -that the sentence is after all only the envelope, only the vehicle for -the thought. Everybody agrees to this theoretically, but practically -the fact is generally ignored. The child is father to the man in -nothing else more surely than in the trait of accepting in perfect good -faith empty words as complete and satisfactory in themselves. The habit -of being content with phrases once bred into a child can be eradicated -by nothing short of severe intellectual surgery. - -To say that words are received as sufficient in themselves and not as -conveying ideas sounds like a paradox; but there are few of us who -may not at once make a personal application and find an illustration -in the common phrases and formulas of our life. Perhaps none of us -are free from the fault of sometimes substituting empty phrases for -vital rules of conduct. The most simple and the most tremendous -facts of human life are often known only as lifeless statements -rather than realized as vibrant truths. With children the language -of text-book or classroom is so likely to be repeated by rote and -remembered mechanically that constant vigilance on the part of the -teacher can hardly overcome the evil. Force the boy who on the college -entrance examination paper writes fluently that "Milton is the poet -of sublimity" to try to define, even to himself, what the statement -means, and the result is confusion. He meant nothing. He had the words, -but they had never conveyed to him a thought. Language should be the -servant of the mind, but never was servant that so constantly and so -successfully usurped the place of master. - -Children must be taught, and taught not simply by precept but by -experience, to realize that the value of the word lies solely in its -efficiency as a vehicle of thought. They must learn to appreciate as -well as to know mechanically that language is to be estimated by its -effect in communicating the idea, and that to be satisfied with words -for themselves is obvious folly. For enforcing this fact literature is -especially valuable. It is hardly possible in even the most superficial -work on a play of Shakespeare, for instance, for the reader to fail -to perceive how the idea burns through the word, how wide is the -difference between the mere apprehension of the language and the -comprehension of the poet's meaning. In the study of great poetry the -impossibility of resting satisfied with anything short of the ideas is -so strongly brought out that it cannot be ignored or forgotten; and in -this way pupils are impressed with the value of words. - -This sensitiveness to the value of words in general is closely coupled -with an appreciation of the force of words in particular, of what may -be called word-values. The power of appreciating that a word is merely -a messenger bringing an idea, is naturally connected with the ability -to distinguish with exactness the nature and the value of the thought -which the messenger presents. To feel the need of knowing clearly and -surely the thought expressed inevitably leads to precision and delicacy -in distinguishing the significance and force of language. When once a -child appreciates the difference between the accepting of what he reads -vaguely or mechanically and the getting from it its full meaning, he -is eager to have it all; he finds delight in the intellectual exercise -of searching out each hidden suggestion and in the sense of possession -which belongs to achieving the thought of the master. It is not to be -expected that our pupils shall be able to receive in its full richness -the deepest thought of the poets, but they none the less find delight -in possessing it to the extent of their abilities. The point is too -obvious to need expansion; but every instructor will recognize its -great importance. - -Obvious as is this importance of the sense of the value of words and -a sensitiveness to word-values, it is not infrequently overlooked. -Teachers see the need of a knowledge of the meaning of terms and -phrases in a particular selection without stopping to think of the -prime value of the principle involved, or indeed that a general -principle is involved at all. Still more often they fail to perceive -all that logically follows. In exact, vital realization of the full -force of language lies the secret of sharing the wisdom of the ages. If -students can be trained to penetrate through the word of the printed -page to the thought, they are brought into communication with the -master-minds of the race. It is not learning to read in the common, -primary acceptation of the term that opens for the young the thought -of the race; but learning to read in the higher and deeper sense of -receiving the word only as a symbol behind and beyond which the thought -lies concealed from the ordinary and superficial reader. - -Most of all is it the business of the young to learn about life. -Whatever does not tend, directly or indirectly, to make the child -better acquainted with the world he has come into, with how he must -and how he should bear himself under its complex conditions, is of -small value as far as education goes. Of rules for conduct he is given -plenty as to matters of morality and of religion. Moral laws and -religious precepts are good, and could they accomplish all that is -sometimes expected of them, life would quickly be a different matter, -and teachers would find themselves living in an earthly paradise. -Unhappily these excellent maxims effect in actual life far less than -is to be desired. Not infrequently the urchin who has been stuffed -with moral admonitions as a doll with sawdust shows in his conduct -no regard for them other than a fine zeal in scorning them. Children -are seldom much affected by explicit directions in regard to conduct. -They must be reached by indirection, and they are moulded less by what -they recognize as intentionally wise views of life than by those which -they receive unconsciously. The more just these unrecognized ideas -of themselves and of the world are, the greater is the chance that -they will develop a character well balanced and well adjusted to the -conditions of human life. - -Children live in a world largely made up of half-perceptions, of -misunderstandings, and of dreams; a world pathetically full of guesses. -They must depend largely upon appearances, and constantly confound -what seems with what really is. They learn but slowly, however, to -shape their beliefs or their emotions by conventionality. They do not -easily acquire the vice of accepting shams because some authority has -endorsed these. All of us are likely to have had queerly uncomfortable -moments when we have found ourselves confounded and reproved by -the unflinching honesty of the child; and we have been forced to -confess, at least to ourselves, that much of our admiration is mere -affectation, many of our professions unadulterated truckling to some -authority in which after all we have little real faith. Children are -naturally too unsophisticated for self-deception of this sort. They -confound substance and shadow, but they do it in good faith and with -no affectations. They are therefore at the place where they most need -sound and sure help to apprehend and to comprehend those things which -their elders call the realities of life. - -What human nature and human life are like is learned most quickly -and most surely from the best literature. The outward, the evident -conditions of society and of humanity may perhaps be best obtained by -children from the events of every-day existence; but in all that goes -deeper the wisdom of great writers is the surest guide. - -On the face of it such a proposition may not seem self-evident, -and to not a few teachers it is likely to appear a little absurd. -Children, it is evident, learn the realities of life by living. They -perceive physical truth by the persuasive force of actual experience: -by tumbling down and bumping their precious noses; by unmistakably -impressive contact with the fist of a pugnacious school-fellow; by -being hungry or uncomfortably stuffed with Thanksgiving turkey; by -heat and by cold, by sweets or by sours, by hardness or by softness. -Certainly through such means as these the child gains knowledge and -develops mentally; but the process is inevitably slow. Most of all -is the growth in the youthful mind of general deductions and the -perception of underlying principles extremely gradual. He does not -learn quickly enough that certain lines of conduct are likely to lead -to unfortunate ends. Even when this is grasped, he has not come to -appreciate what human laws underlie the whole matter; nor is he in the -least likely to realize them so fully as to shape by them his conduct -in the steadily more and more complicated affairs of life. - -The small boy learns the wisdom of moderation from the stomach-ache -which follows too much plum-pudding or too many green applesaEuro"if the -pain is often enough repeated. The matter, however, is apt to present -itself to his mind as a sort of tacit bargain between himself and Fate: -so many green apples, so much stomach-ache; so much self-indulgence and -so much pain, and the account is balanced. Life is not so simple as -this; and that Fate does not make bargains so direct is learned from -experience so gradually as often to be learned too late. To tell this -to a child is of very little effect; for even if he believes it with -his childish intelligence, he can hardly feel the intimate links which -bind all humanity together, and make him subject to the same conditions -that rule his elders and instructors. - -The phrase "realities of life," moreover, includes not only -sensibleaEuro"that is, materialaEuro"facts and conditions, but the more subtle -things of inner existence. A hundred persons are able to gather facts, -while very few are capable of drawing from them adequate conclusions -or of perceiving how one truth bears upon another. A very moderate -degree of intelligence is required for analysis as compared to that -necessary for synthesis. The power "to put two and two together," as -the common phrase has it, grows slowly in the mind of a child. Within -a limited range children appreciate that one fact is somehow joined to -another; and indeed the education which life gives consists chiefly in -expanding this perception. The connection between touching a hot coal -and being burned brings home the plain physical relations early. The -connection between disobedience and unpleasant consequences will be -borne in upon the youthful consciousness according to the sharpness -of discipline by which it is enforced; and so on to the end of the -chapter. To perceive a relation and to appreciate what that relation -is are, however, different matters. The understanding of the nature -of breaking rules and suffering in consequence involves a perception -of underlying principle, and some comprehension of the real nature of -these principles. - -The part which literature may play in giving children, and for that -matter their elders, a vivid perception of moral laws is shown by the -use which has been made of fables and moral tales. The parables of -Scripture illustrate the point. Of the habit of making literature -directly a vehicle for moral instruction by the drawing of morals I -shall have something to say later; but the extent to which this has -been done at least serves here to make clearer what we mean by saying -that in this study the child learns general principles and their -relation. The small child, for instance, who is told in tender years -that ingeniously virtuous fable which relates the heroic doings of -little George Washington and his immortal hatchet, gets some idea of a -connection between virtue and joy in the abstract. A notion faint, but -none the less genuine, remains in his mind that some real connection -exists between truth and desirability; and the same sort of thing holds -true in cases where the teaching is less directly didactic. - -The directly didactic is likely to be most in evidence in the training -of children, and so affords convenient illustration of the illuminating -effect of literature on young minds. Despite the fact that I disbelieve -in reading into any tale or poem a moral which is not expressly put -there by the author, and that I hold more strongly yet to the belief -that the most marked and most lasting effects of imaginative work are -indirect, I am not without a perception of the value at a certain stage -of human development of the direct moral of the fable and the improving -tale. A small lad of ten within the range of my observation, upon whom -had been lavished an abundance, and perhaps even a superabundance, of -moral precept, astonished and disconcerted his mother by remarking -with delightful naA-vetA(C) that he had at school been reading "The Little -Merchant," in Miss Edgeworth's "Parents' Assistant," and that from it -he had learned how mean and foolish it is to lie. "But, my dear boy," -the mother cried in dismay, "I've been telling you that ever since -you were born!" "Oh, well," responded the lad, with the unconsciously -brutal frankness of his years, "but that never interested me." The -obvious moral teaching that had made no impression when offered as a -bare precept had been effective to him when presented as an appeal to -his feeling. - -Through imaginative literature abstract truths are made to have for -the child a reality which is given to them by the experiences of daily -life only by the slowest of degrees. Children rarely generalize, -except in matters of personal feeling and in the regions of general -misapprehension. A child easily receives the fact of the moment for a -truth of all time: if he is miserable, for instance, he is very apt to -feel that he must always be in that doleful condition; but this is in -no real sense a generalization. It is more than half self-deception. -Any child, however, who has been thrilled by a single line of -imaginative poetry hasaEuro"even if unconsciouslyaEuro"come into direct touch -with a wide and humanly universal truth. - -Especially and essentially is this to be said of truth which has to do -with human feeling, the universal truth of the emotions. The man or -the woman into whom the school-boy or girl is to grow will in shaping -life be guided chiefly by the feelings. Whether the ordinary mortal -lives well or ill, basely or nobly, dully or vividly, is practically -determined by what he feels. However much the convictions have to do -in ordering conduct, feeling has more, and conviction itself is with -most mortals inseparably bound up with the emotions. The highest office -of education is to develop the emotions highly and nobly; and it is no -less essential to the intellectual than to the moral well-being of the -child that he be bred to feel as deeply and as wholesomely as possible. -Every teacher knows that in dealing with children the ultimate appeal -is to their feelings. If a crisis arises in school-life it is to the -emotions that the matter is inevitably referred, whether the instructor -likes this or not, and whether the appeal is made openly or is indirect -and tacit. Teaching must deal with the sentiments as well as with the -understanding. That no other means of training and properly developing -the feelings of youth is so efficient as literature seems to me a -proposition too self-evident to need further comment. - -Enthusiasm is so closely connected with the cultivation and training -of the emotions that it is not easy to draw a line between them. While -there is certainly no need to enlarge here upon the worth of enthusiasm -in education or in life, or upon literature as a means of arousing it, -it is worth while to emphasize the extent to which the mind of youth -may be affected by enthusiasm. The effects are naturally often so -indirect or intangible as not to be easily measured, but often, too, -they are direct and practical. Some years ago in a country school in -eastern Maine was still paramount the old-time Greenleaf's "Arithmetic" -which we elders remember with mixed feelings. The law of education -in those days, when children were still expected to do things which -were mapped out for them and to follow a course of study whether it -chanced to please their individual fancy or not, enforced the mastering -of everything in the text-book, even to sundry weird processes with -queer names such as "Alligation Alternate" and the like. The teacher -of this particular school, a plucky morsel of New England womanhood, -not much bigger than a chickadee, set herself resolutely to carry -through the arithmetic a class of farmer lads, better at the plow than -in mathematics. What happened she told me twenty-five years ago, and -I am still able to call up the vision of the air half of defiance, -half of amusement with which she said: "The boys were in a perfectly -hopeless muddle. I had explained and explained, until I wished I could -either cry like a woman or be a man and swear! The third day I had -an inspiration. In the very middle of the recitation, I told them to -shut up their books, and I cleaned every mark of the lesson off of -the blackboard. Then without a word of explanation I began to tell -them a little about the pamphlet Sir Walter Raleigh wrote about the -'Revenge;' and then I began to recite Tennyson's balladaEuro"which was new -then. I was wrought up to the very top-notch anyway, and I just gave -that ballad for all there was in me. They were dazed a minute, and -then they pricked up their ears, their eyes began to shine, and I had -them. We kindled each other, and by the time I got through the tears -were running down my cheeks for simple excitement. When I got to the -end, you could just feel the hush. Then I told them to go outdoors and -snow-ball for ten minutes, and then to come in and conquer that lesson. -They were great, rough farmer boys, you understand; but the moment they -were outside, they gave a cheer, just to express things they couldn't -have put into words. When they came in they were alive to the ends of -their fingers, and we went over that old Alligation with a perfect -rush." This sort of thing would not be possible anywhere outside of the -old-fashioned country school, but it is a capital illustration of the -way in which poetry may stir the enthusiasm. - -More valuable still, because at once deeper and most lasting, is the -effect of literature in nourishing imagination. The real progress which -children make in educationaEuro"the assimilation of the knowledge which -they receiveaEuro"depends largely upon this power. In many branches of -study this is easily evident. What a child actually knows of geography -or of history obviously depends upon the extent to which his mind is -able to make real places or events remote in space or in time. The -same is true of those studies where the fact is not so evident; and it -is hardly too much to say that the advance of any student in higher -education is measured by the development of his imagination. - -The teacher of literature in the secondary schools, then, is to -consider that although his work is primarily done as a part of the -school requirement, he need not be without some clear and deliberate -intention in regard to the permanent effect upon the education and -so upon the character of the pupil. He may treat the getting of his -charges through the examinations as a purely secondary matter; a -matter, moreover, which is practically sure to be accomplished if the -greater and better purposes of the study have been secured. Besides a -general knowledge of literary history, the student should gain from -his training in the secondary school a vivid sense of the importance -and value of words; an appreciation of word-values as shown in actual -use by the masters; should increase in knowledge of life, and as it -were gain experience vicariously, so as to advance in perception of -intellectual and moral values; should be advanced in the control of -the feelings; in enthusiasm; and in the development of that noblest of -faculties, the imagination. - - - - -III - -SOME DIFFICULTIES - - -To deal clearly with the work of teaching, it is first of all essential -to deal frankly. In order that suggestions in regard to instruction -in literature may be of practical value, we must be entirely honest -in admitting and in facing whatever difficulties lie in the way and -whatever limitations are imposed by the conditions under which the work -is done. - -As things are at present arranged, an instructor, it seems not unjust -to say, must decide how far he is able to mingle genuine education with -the routine work which the system imposes upon him. If he has not the -power to settle this question, or if he is lacking in the disposition -to propose the question to himself, his labor is inevitably confined -chiefly to routine. His students are turned out examination-perfect, -it may be, but with minds as fatally cramped and checked as the feet -of a Chinese lady. If literature has a high and important function in -education, the teacher must consider deeply both what that function is -and how he is best to develop it. - -The failure on the part of instructors to do this makes much of the -work done in the secondary grades so mechanical as to be of the -smallest possible use so far as the expansion of the mind and of -the character of children is concerned. For a pupil in the lower -grades the first purpose of any and of all school-work should be -to teach him to use his mind,aEuro"to think. The actual acquirement of -facts is of importance really slight as compared to the value of -this. If at twelve he knows how to read and to write, is sound on the -multiplication-table, is familiar with the outlines of grammar and the -broadest divisions of geography, yet is accustomed to think for himself -in regard to the facts which he perceives from life or receives from -books, he may be regarded as admirably well on in the education which -he is to gain from the schools. Indeed, if he have learned to think, -he is excellently started even if he have accomplished nothing further -than simply to read and to write. - -In these years of child-life the study of literature can legitimately -have but two objects: it may and should minister to the delight of -youth, that so the taste for good books be fostered and as it were -inbred; and it should nourish the power of thinking. Whatever is beyond -this has no place in the lower grades, and personally I am entirely -free to say that much that is now called "the study of literature" is -the sort of elaborate work which belongs in the college or nowhere. -Few students are qualified to "study"aEuro"as the term is commonly -interpretedaEuro"literature until they are advanced further than the boys -and girls admitted to our high schools; further, indeed, than many who -are allowed to enter the universities. The great majority of those who -grind laboriously through the college entrance requirements in English -are utterly unequal to the work and get from it little of value and a -good deal of harm. - -What should be done in the lower grades, and usually all that can -with profit be attempted in the secondary schools anywhere, is to -cultivate in the children a love of literature and some appreciation -of it: appreciation intelligent, I mean, but not analytic. I would -have the secondary schools do little with the history of authors, -less with the criticism of style, and have no more explanation of -difficulties of language and of structure than is necessary for the -student's enjoyment. In a time when the draughts made by daily life -upon the attention of the young are so tremendous, when the pressure -of the more immediately practical branches of instruction is so great, -to add drudgery in connection with literature seems to me completely -futile and doubly wrong. The supreme test of success in whatever work -in literature is done in schools of the secondary grades should be, -according to my conviction, whether it has given delight, has fostered -a love of whatever is best in imaginative writings and in life. - -The natural abilities of children differ widely, and perhaps more -difference still is made by the home influences in which they pass -their earliest years. What should be done in the nursery can never be -fully made up in the school, and what should be breathed in from an -atmosphere of cultivation can never be imparted by instruction. It is -manifestly impossible to interest all in the artistic side of life to -the same extent, just as it is idle to hope to teach all to draw with -equal skill. This does not alter the direction of effort. The teacher -must recognize and accept natural limitations, but not on that account -be satisfied with aiming at less admirable results. - -Whatever are the conditions, it is possible to do something to -foster a love of what is really good in literature, and to avoid the -substitution of formal drill in the history of authors, the study of -conundrums concerning the sources of plots, the meaning of obsolete -words, and like pedantic pedagogics, for the friendly and vital study -of what should be a warm, live topic. If young folk can be made really -to care for good books, not only is substantial and lasting good -gained, but most that is now attempted is more surely secured. William -Blake declares that the truth can never be told so as to be understood -and not be believed. In the same way it may be said that if children -can be trained to recognize the characteristics of good literature, -they are sure, in nine cases out of ten at least, to care for it. - -This is the work which properly belongs to the secondary schools; and -it is quite as much as they can be expected to do even up to the close -of the high school course. I am personally unable to see what good -is accomplished by taking any body of school-children that ever came -under my own observation,aEuro"and the question must be judged by personal -experience,aEuro"and drilling them in such matters as the following. I have -taken these notes almost at random from approved school editions of the -classics, and they seem to me to be fairly representative. - - Some striking resemblances in the incantation scenes in - "Macbeth" and Middleton's "Witch" have led to a somewhat - generally accepted belief that Thomas Middleton was answerable - for the alleged un-Shakespearean portions of "Macbeth." - - * * * * * - - Shakespeare's indebtedness in "Midsummer's Night's Dream" to - "Il Percone" admits of no dispute. - - The incident of a Jew whetting his knife like Shylock occurs in - a Latin play, "Machiavellus," performed at St. John's College, - Cambridge, at Christmas, 1597. - -The opening note in a popular edition of "Silas Marner" is a comment -upon this passage: - - The questionable sound of Silas's loom, so unlike the natural, - cheerful trotting of the winnowing-machine, or the simple - rhythm of the flail, had a half-fearful fascination for the - Raveloe boys. - -The note reads as follows: - - The hand-loom, once found in every village and hamlet, was - controlled by the action of the feet on the treadles, and - worked by the hands. A figure representing the parts may - be found in "Johnson's CyclopA|dia." The longer article on - "Weaving" in the "EncyclopA|dia Britannica" may also be - consulted. The rattle of the loom was in direct contrast - to the "cheerful trotting" of the winnowing-machineaEuro"an - old-fashioned hand-machine for separating the chaff from the - grain by means of wind produced by revolving fans. The flail, - still in common use for threshing grain by hand, consists of a - wooden staff or handle, hung on a club called a swiple, so as - to turn easily. - -If the end of the study of fiction is the acquirement of dry facts, -this note may pass. I have purposely selected an example which is not -worse than the average, and which may perhaps be supposed to have an -excuse in the consideration that so many readers may be ignorant of all -the contrivances mentioned; but can any person with a sense of humor -suppose that a real boy is to get any proper enjoyment out of a story -when he is at the outset asked to consult a couple of cyclopA|dias, and -is interrupted in his reading by comments of this sort? The real point -of the passage, moreover,aEuro"the literary significance,aEuro"the fact that -the boys of Raveloe heard the winnowing-machine and threshing-flail -daily, and so were attracted by the novelty of Marner's weaving, with -the use of this by George Eliot to emphasize the weaver's isolation in -the neighborhood, is left utterly unnoticed. - -Were it worth while, I could give from text-books in general use -examples more unsatisfactory than these; but this is a fair sample of -the things which are administered to pupils in the name of literary -study. The students are not interested in these details; and I am -inclined to believe that most of the teachers who mistakenly feel -obliged to drill classes in them could not honestly say that they -themselves care a fig for such barren facts. It is no wonder that out -of the school course young folk so often get the notion that literature -is dull. In a recent entrance paper a boy wrote as follows: - - I could never understand why so much time has to be given in - school to old books just because they have been known a long - time. It would be better if we could have given the time to - something useful. - -He said what many boys feel, and what not a few of them have thought -out frankly to themselves, although perhaps few would express it so -squarely. If the study of literature means no more than is represented -by work on notes and the history of books and authors, I most fully -agree with him. - -Some of the books at present included in the college entrance -requirement, it must be added, lend themselves too much to -unintelligent pedantry. Undoubtedly much thought has been given to the -selection, although perhaps less sympathetic consideration of child -nature. The result is not in all cases satisfactory. To foster a taste -for poetry a teacher may, it is true, do much with "Julius CA|sar," -but I have yet to see the class of undergraduates with which I should -personally hope to arouse enthusiasm with "L'Allegro," "Il Penseroso," -"Lycidas," or "Comus." I may be simply confessing my own limitations, -but I should think all of these poems, magnificent in themselves, -hardly fitted for the boys and girls who are found in our public -schools. I have extracted from more than one teacher a confession of -entire inability to take pleasure in the Milton which they assure their -pupils is beautiful; and while this is an arraignment of instructors -rather than of the works, it is significant of the attitude the honest -minds of children are likely to take. - -By way of making things worse, scholars are drilled in Macaulay's -"Milton."[35:1] The inclusion of this essay, the product of the -author's 'prentice hand, is most lamentable. The philistinism of -Macaulay is here rampant; and the one thing which students are sure -to get from the essay is the conception that poetry is the product -of barbarism, to be outgrown and cast aside when civilization is -sufficiently advanced. Again and again in entrance examinations and -in second-year notebooks, I have found this idea expressed. It is not -only the one thing which survives out of the essay, but is often the -one conviction in regard to literature which has survived examinations -as the result of the study of the entire entrance requirement. In the -entrance paper of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology for last -year (1905), I had put a question in regard to the difference between -poetry and prose. From the replies I have taken a few of the many -echoes from the study of the "Milton." - - Macaulay claims that the uncivilized alone care for poetry. - - I agree with Macaulay that prose is the product of - civilization, . . . while poetry was the way the ancients - expressed themselves. - - Poetry is not being written nearly so much now as in the Dark - Ages, simply because men are learning to treat subjects in - classes. - - Macaulay says that the writer of a great poem must have a - certain unsoundness of mind, and Carlyle makes the statement - that to be a great poet a man must first be as a little child. - If these opinions are just, one would think poetry could not be - regarded as of a quality equal to prose works. - - Poetry came first in the lapse of time, and as people grew more - civilized, as their education grew higher, they wrote in prose. - -Obviously these extracts hardly do justice to the views of Macaulay, -but it is evidently absurd to try to interest pupils in poetry when -they are getting from one of the works selected "for careful study" the -idea that the poet is a semi-madman practicing one of the habits of a -half-civilized race![36:1] - -Fortunately much of the reading is better, although in effect the books -are sometimes limited by the difficulty of keeping the interest of -children up for the long poem. The inclusion in the list of "Elaine" -and "The Lady of the Lake" of course presupposes on the part of the -pupil familiarity in the lower grades with lyrics and brief narrative -poems; and in many cases this may be sufficient. Most pupils will be -sure to care for "The Ancient Mariner," many for "The Princess;" and -any wholesome boy, with ordinary intelligence, should be interested in -"Ivanhoe" and "Macbeth." - -As things stand, however, the teacher is forced to deal largely with -books which almost compel formal and pedantic treatment. Burke's -"Speech on Conciliation," admirable as it is in its place and way, -will hardly give to a young student an insight into literature or a -taste for imaginative work. The normal, average lad is likely, it -seems to me, to be bored by "Silas Marner," or at least very mildly -interested; and I confess frankly my inability to understand how -youthful enthusiasm is to be aroused or more than youthful tolerance -secured for Irving's "Life of Goldsmith" or Macaulay's "Life of -Johnson." Plenty of pupils are docile enough to allow themselves to be -led placidly through these works, and indeed to submit to any volume -imposed by school regulations; but what the teacher is endeavoring to -do is to convince the young readers that books entitled to the name -"literature" are really of more worth and interest than the newspaper, -the detective story, the sensational novel, or the dime-theatre song. -It is perhaps not possible to find among the English Classics works -well adapted to such use,aEuro"although I refuse to believe it,aEuro"but I do -at least feel that the present entrance-requirement list does not lend -itself readily, to say the least, to the task of the teacher who aims -at developing an intelligent and loving appreciation of literature. - -The list of obstacles which beset the way of a teacher of literature -might easily be lengthened; but these seem chief. They are -discouraging; but they exist. They must be faced and overcome, and -nothing is gained by ignoring them. The successful teacher, like the -successful general, is he who most clearly examines difficulties, and -best succeeds in devising means by which they may be vanquished. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[35:1] Since this was written this essay has been removed from the -list, but the effects of it are still with us, as it was used for all -classes entering college before 1906. I leave this comment, however, -because of its important bearing on a point which I wish to bring up -later. - -[36:1] See page 212. - - - - -IV - -OTHER OBSTACLES - - -The difficulties set down in the last chapter exist in the conditions -under which teachers must work. They should be recognized, to the end -that they may be as far as possible overcome. They can be done away -with only by the slow and gradual changing of public opinion and the -re-forming of pedagogic intelligence. For the present they are to be -reckoned with as inevitable limitations. - -Another class of obstacles to the ideal result of the teaching of -literature exists largely in the application of the modern system or in -the method of the individual teacher. These may to a great extent be -done away with by a proper understanding of conditions, a just estimate -of what may be accomplished, and a wise choice of the means of doing -this. Teachers must take things as they find them, but the ultimate -result of work depends to a great extent upon how they take them. If -they must often accept unfortunate conditions, they may at least reduce -to a minimum whatever is uneffective in their own method. - -The most serious defects which depend largely upon individual teaching -are four. The first is the danger, already alluded to, of teaching -children _about_ literature; the second is that of making too great a -demand upon the child; the third is the common habit of endeavoring to -reach the enthusiasm of the pupil through the reason, instead of aiming -at the reason through the enthusiasm; and the fourth isaEuro"to speak -boldlyaEuro"the possible incapacity of the teacher for this particular work. - -The first of these is the most widespread. It is so natural to bring -forward facts concerning the history of writers and of books, it is -indeed so impossible to avoid this entirely; to induce students to -repeat glibly what some critic has written about authors and their -works is so easy, that this insensibly and almost inevitably tends -to make up the bulk of instruction. Every incompetent teacher takes -refuge in such formal drill. The history of literature is concrete; -it is easily tabulated; and it is naturally accepted by children as -being exactly in line with the work which properly belongs to other -studies with which they are acquainted. If a child is set to treat -literature just as he has treated history or mathematics, the process -will appeal to him as logical and easily to be mastered. He will find -no incongruity in applying the same method to "Macbeth" and to the list -of Presidents or to the multiplication-table; and however well or ill -he succeed in memorizing what is given him, he will feel the ease of -working in accustomed lines. Names and dates may be learned by rote, -old entrance-paper questions are tangible things, and thus examinations -come to mean annual offerings of childish brains. To teach literature -requires sympathy and imagination: the history of literature requires -only perseverance. Much that in school reports is set down as the study -of masterpieces is in reality only a mixture of courses in biography -and history, more or less spiced with gossip. - -The second danger, that of making too great a demand upon the child, -is one which, to some extent, besets all school work to-day, but which -seems to be especially great and especially disastrous in the case -of the study we are considering. Often the nature of the questions -asked shows one form of this demand in a way that is nothing less -than preposterous. Children in secondary schools are required to have -original ideas in regard to the character of Lady Macbeth; to define -the workings of the mind of Shylock; to produce personal opinions -in the discussion of the madness of Hamlet. Children whose highest -acquirements in English composition do not and cannot reach beyond the -plainest expository statement of simple facts and ideas, are coolly -requested to discriminate between the style of "Il Penseroso" and -that of "L'Allegro," and to show how each is adapted to the purpose -of the poet. If they were allowed to write from the point of view of -a child, the matter would be bad enough; but no teacher who sets such -a task would be satisfied with anything properly belonging to the -child-mind. It is probably safe to be tolerably certain that no teacher -ever gave out this sort of a question who could without cribbing from -the critics perform satisfactorily the task laid upon the unfortunate -children. - -I have before me a pamphlet entitled "Suggestions for Teachers of -English Classics in the High Schools." It is not a gracious task to -find fault with a fellow worker and a fellow writer in the same line in -which I am myself offering suggestions, and I therefore simply put it -to the common sense of teachers what the effect upon the average high -school pupil would be if he were confronted with questions such as are -included in the proposed outline for the study of "Evangeline." The -author of the pamphlet directs that these points are to be used "after -some power of analysis has been developed." - - The language. - - Relative proportion of English and Latin. - Archaic element, proportion and use. - Weight of the style; presentative and symbolic words. - Emotional element; experimental significance of terms. - Picture-element; prevailing character of figures of - speech. - - The structure. - - Grammatical. - - Poetic uses of words; archaisms, poetic forms. - Poetic uses of parts of speech, parse.[42:1] - Poetic constructions and inversions, analyze. - - Metrical. - - Number and character of metrical "feet." - Accent and quantity, the spondee. - Scan selected lines, compare with classic - hexameter. - Compare hexameter with other verse-forms. - Character of rhyme, compare with other poems. - Presence and use of alliteration. - - Musical. - - Examine for lightness and speed; trochee, dactyl, - polysyllables. - Examine for dignity; iambus, monosyllables. - Number of syllables in individual lines. - Character of consonants; stopped, unstopped, - voiced. - Character of vowels; back, front, round, harsh. - Correspondence of sound to sense. - -It would be interesting, and perhaps somewhat humiliating, for each -one of us who are teachers to take a list of the questions we have set -for examinations in literature and with perfect honesty tell ourselves -how many of them we could ourselves answer with any originality, and -how many it is fair to suppose that our students could write about -with any ideas except those gathered from teacher or text-book. With -the pressure of a doubtful system and of unintelligent custom always -upon us, few of us, it is to be feared, would escape without a sore -conscience. - -When I speak of a school-boy or a school-girl as writing with -"originality," I do not mean anything profound. I am not so deluded as -to suppose this originality will take the form of startlingly novel -discoveries in regard to the significance of work or the intention of -authors. I only mean that what the boy or girl writes shall be written -because he or she really thinks it, and that each idea, no matter if -it be obvious and crude, shall have some trace of individuality which -will indicate that it has passed through the mind of the particular -pupil who expresses it. This, I believe, is what should chiefly concern -the maker of examination-papers. He should especially aim at giving -students an opportunity of showing personal opinions and convictions. - -No one who has looked over files of examination-papers is likely to -deny that we are most of us likely to be betrayed into asking of our -classes absurd things in the line of criticism. It is all very well -to remember the scriptural phrase about the high character of some of -the utterances of babes and sucklings; but this is hardly sufficient -warrant for insisting that our school-children shall babble in -philosophy and chatter in criticism. The honest truth is that we are -constantly demanding of pupils things that we could for the most part -do but very poorly ourselves. The unfortunate youngsters who should -be solacing themselves with fairy-tales or with stories of adventure -as their taste happens to be, are being dragged through "The Vicar of -Wakefield,"aEuro"an exquisite book, which I doubt if one person in fifty -can read to-day with proper appreciation and delight until he is at -least twenty-five. They are being asked to write themes about Lady -Macbeth,aEuro"and if they were really frank, and wrote their own real -thoughts, if they considered her from the point of view of the children -they are, where is the teacher who would not feel obliged to return -the theme as a failure? Those instructors who recognized that it was -of real worth because genuine would also realize that it would be -impossible when tried by the modern standard of examinations. - -How far individual teachers go in demanding from children what the -youthful mind cannot be fairly expected to give will depend upon -the personal equation of the instructor. In too many cases the -entrance-examinations set a standard which in the fitting-schools may -not safely be ignored, but which is fatal to all original thinking. -Perhaps the worst form of this is the wrenching from the student what -are supposed to be criticisms upon artistic form or content. A hint of -the teaching which is intended to lead up to this has been given in -the topics suggested in connection with the study of "Evangeline" on -page 42. The "outline" from which those are quoted goes on to give the -following questions: - - Of what literary spirit is "Evangeline" the expression? - - What is the author's thought-habit as shown in the poem? - - What is the place of this poem in the development of verse? - -I am perhaps a little uncharitable to these queries because I am, I -confess, entirely unable to answer them myself; but I am also sure that -no child in the stage of mental development belonging to the secondary -schools would have any clear and reasonable idea even of what they -mean. The example is an extreme one, but it has more parallels than -would seem possible. - -The formulation of views on A|sthetics, whether in regard to workmanship -or to motive, is utterly beyond the range of any mental condition the -teacher in secondary schools has a right to assume or to expect. All -that can happen is that the student who is asked to answer A|sthetic -conundrums will reproduce, in form more or less distorted according -to the parrot-like fidelity of his memory, views he has heard without -understanding them. Any teacher of common sense knows this, and any -teacher of independent mind will refuse to be bullied by manuals or by -entrance-examination papers into inflicting tasks of this sort upon his -pupils. - -In any branch many students either go on blunderingly or fail -altogether through sheer ignorance of how to study. In the case of -literature perhaps more fail through this cause than through all others -combined. A robust, honest, and not unintelligent lad, who is fairly -well disposed toward school work, but whose real interests are in -outdoor life and active sport, who is intellectually interested only -in the obviously practical side of knowledge, is set down to "study" a -play of Shakespeare's. He is disposed to do it well, if not from any -vital interest in the matter, at least from a general habit of being -faithful in his work and a healthful instinct to do a thing thoroughly -if he undertakes it at all. He is at the outset puzzled to know what is -expected of him. In arithmetic or algebra he has had definite tasks, -and success has been in direct proportion to the diligence with which -he has followed a course definitely marked out. Now he casts about for -a rule of procedure. He can understand that he is expected to learn -the meaning of unusual or obsolete words, that he is to make himself -acquainted with the story so that he may be able to answer any of the -conundrums which adorn ingeniously the puzzle department of examination -papers. These things he does, but he is too sensible not to know that -if this is all there is to the study of literature the game is not -worth the candle. He cannot help feeling that the time thus employed -might be put to a better use; he is probably bored; and as he is sure -to know that he is bored, he is likely to conceive a contempt for -literature which is none the less deep and none the less permanent for -not being put into words. He very likely comes to believe, with the -inevitable tendency of youth to make its own feelings the criteria -by which to judge all the world, that everybody is really bored by -literature, if only, for some inscrutable reason, people did not feel -it necessary to shroud the matter in so much humbug. Talk about the -beauty of Shakespeare, about the greatness of his poetry, the wonders -of literary art, come to affect him as cant pure and simple. He puts -this to himself plainly or not according to his temperament; but the -feeling is in his mind, showing at every turn to one wise enough to -discern. Now and then a boy is born with the taste and appreciation of -poetry, and of course even in these days, when a literary atmosphere in -the home is unhappily so rare, an occasional student appears from time -to time who has been taught to care for poetry where every child should -learn to love it, in the nursery. On the whole, however, the average -school-boy really cares little or nothing for literature, and in his -secret heart is entirely convinced that nobody else cares either. - -Not knowing how to "study" literature, then, and feeling that in -literature is nothing to study which is of consequence, the pupil is -in no position to make even a reasonable beginning. He cannot even -approach literature in any proper attitude unless he can be made to -care for it; unless he can be so interested that he ceases to feel the -profession of admiration for the Shakespeare he is asked to work upon -to be necessarily cant and affectation. Perhaps the hardest part of the -task set before the teacher is to bring the pupil into a frame of mind -where he can properly study poetry and to give him some insight into -what such study may and should mean. - -How this is to be accomplished I cannot pretend fully to say. In -speaking of what I may call "inspirational" training in literature -I shall try to answer the question to some extent; and here I may at -least point out that the situation is from the first utterly hopeless -if the teacher is in the same state of mind as the pupil. If the -instructor is able to see no method of studying literature other than -mechanical drudgery over form, the looking-up of words, verification -of dates, dissection of plot, and so on, it is idle to hope that he -will be able to aid the class to anything better than this dry-as-dust -plodding. The teacher may at least learn what at its best the "study" -is. He may or may not have the power of inciting those under him to -enthusiasm, but he may at least show them that something is possible -beyond the mechanical treatment of the masterpieces of art. - -A writer in the (Chicago) "Dial" states admirably the attitude of great -masses of students in saying: - - There are many people, young people in particular, who, with - the best will in the world, cannot understand why it is that - men make such a fuss about literature, and who are honestly - puzzled by the praises bestowed upon the great literary - artists. They would like to join in sympathetic appreciation - of the masters, and they have an abundant store of gratitude - and reverence to lavish upon objects that approve themselves as - worthy; but just what there is in Shakespeare and Wordsworth - and Tennyson to call for such seeming extravagance of eulogy - remains a dark mystery. Such people are apt in their moments of - revolt to set it all down to a sort of critical conspiracy, - and to consider those who voice the conventional literary - estimates as chargeable with an irritating kind of hypocrisy. - They cannot see for the life of them why the books of the hour, - with their timeliness, their cleverness, their sentimental or - sensational interest, should be held of no serious account by - the real lovers of literature, while the dull babblers of a - bygone age are exalted to the skies by these same devotees of - the art of letters. . . . Some young people never recover from - the condition of open revolt into which they are thrown by the - injudicious methods of our education. - -Out of his own experience and appreciation the teacher must be able to -show the pupil some method of studying literature which shall in the -measure of the student's individual capacity lead to a conception of -what literature is and wherein lies its importance. Until this can be -done, nothing has been effected which is of any real or lasting value. - -The third defect which I have mentioned I have put in a phrase which -may at first seem somewhat cryptic. What is meant by the attempt to -reach the enthusiasm of the child through the reason may not be at once -apparent. Yet the thing is simple. It is not difficult to lead children -to think, and to think deeply, of things which have touched their -feeling. If once their emotions are aroused, they will go actively -forward in every investigation of which their minds are capable, -and with whatever degree of appreciation they are equal to. A child -cannot, however, be reasoned into any vital admiration. The extent to -which an adult is to be touched emotionally by argument is extremely -limited. Few travelers, for instance, are able really to respond when -an officious verger or care-taker points out some historic spot, and -after glibly relating some event in his professional patter, ends with -a look which says almost more plainly than words: "Stand just here, -and thrill! Sixpence a thrill, please." Yet this is very much what is -expected of children. The teacher takes a famous book, laboriously -recounts its merits, its fame, its beauties, and then tacitly commands -the children: "Think of that, and thrill! One credit for every thrill." -It is true that the verger demands a fee and the teacher promises a -reward, but the result is the same. Do the children thrill? Is there a -conscientious teacher who has tried this method who has not with bitter -disappointment realized that the students have come out of the course -with nothing save a few poor facts and disfigured conventional opinions -which they reserve for examinations as they might save battered pennies -for the contribution-box? They have been personally conducted through -a course of literature. They come out of it in much the same condition -as return home the personally conducted through foreign art-galleries -who say: "Yes, I must have seen the 'Mona Lisa,' if it's in the Louvre. -I saw all the pictures there, you know." The chief difference is that -children are generally incapable, outside of examination-papers, of -pretending an enthusiasm which they do not feel. - -One thing which is indisputable is that children know when they are -bored. Many adults become so proficient in the art of self-deception -as to be able to cheat themselves into thinking they are at the height -of enjoyment because they are doing what they consider to be the -proper thing; when in simple truth their only pleasure must lie in the -gratification of a futile vanity. Of children this is seldom true; -or, if it is true, it extends only to the fictions practiced by their -own childish world. If they have conventions, these differ from the -conventions of their elders, and they do not fool themselves with a -show of enjoyment when the reality is wanting. If they are wearied by a -book, the fact that it is a masterpiece does not in the least console -them. They may be forced by teachers to read or to study it, and to -say on examination-papers that it is beautiful; yet they not only know -they are not pleased, but to each other they are generally ready to -acknowledge it with perfect frankness. - -The need of saying this in the present connection is that it is not -possible really to convince children they are enjoying the writing of -themes about Mrs. Primrose, or about Silas Marner and Effie, or on -the character of Lady Macbeth, unless they are vitally interested. -I am far from being so modern as to think that pupils should not be -asked to do anything which they do not wish to do; but I am radical -enough to believe that no other good which may be accomplished by the -study of literature in any other way can compensate for making good -books wearisome. The idea that literature is something to be vaguely -respected but not to be read for enjoyment is already sufficiently -prevalent; and rather than see it more widespread, I would have all the -so-called teaching of literature in the secondary schools abolished -altogether. - -The last point which I mentioned as likely to diminish the value of -teaching is that it so often demands of teachers more than can be -surely or safely counted on in the way of fitness. This I do not mean -to dwell upon, nor is it my purpose to draw up a bill of arraignment -against my craft. I wish simply to comment that one essential, a prime -essential, in the teaching of literature is the power of imaginative -enthusiasm on the part of the teacher. This would be recognized if the -subject of instruction were any other of the fine arts. If teachers -were required to train school-children in the symphonies of Beethoven -or in the pictures of Titian, everybody would realize that some -special aptitude on the part of the instructor was requisite. Every -normal school or college graduate is set to teach the masterpieces of -Shakespeare or of Milton, and the fact that the poetry is as completely -a work of art as is symphony or picture, and that what holds true of -one as the product of artistic imagination must hold true of the other, -is quietly and even unconsciously ignored. - -No amount of study will create in a teacher the artistic imagination in -its highest sense, although much may be done in the way of developing -artistic perception; but at least self-improvement may go far in the -nourishing of the important quality of self-honesty. An instructor -must learn to deal fairly with himself. He must be strong enough to -acknowledge to himself fearlessly if he is not able to care for some -work that is ranked as an artistic masterpiece. He must be willing to -say unflinchingly to himself that he cannot do justice to this work or -to that, because he is not in sympathy with it, or because he lacks any -experience which would give him a key to its mood and meaning. - -One thing seems to me to be entirely above dispute in this delicate -inquiry: that it is idle to hope to impart to children what we have -not learned ourselves; and it follows that the first necessity is to -appreciate our shortcomings. I ask only for the same sort of honesty -which would by common consent be essential in teaching the more humble -branches. A teacher who could not solve quadratic equations would -manifestly be an ill instructor in algebra. By the same token it is -evident that a teacher who cannot enter into the heart of a poem, who -does not understand the mood of a play, who has not a real enthusiasm -for literature, is not fitted to help children to a comprehension and -an appreciation of these. Neither is the power to rehearse the praises -and phrases of critics or commentators a sufficient qualification for -teaching. In an examination-paper at the Institute of Technology a boy -recently wrote with admirable frankness and directness: - - I confess that while I like Shakespeare, I like other poets - better, and while my teachers have told me that he was the - greatest writer, they never seemed to know why. - -The boy unconsciously implies a most important fact, namely, that if -a teacher does not know why a poet is great, it is not only difficult -to convince the pupil of the reality of his claims, but also is it -impossible to disguise from the clever scholars the real ignorance -of the instructor. As well try to warm children by a description of -a fire as to endeavor to awake in them admiration and pleasure by -parrot-phrases, no matter how glibly or effectively repeated. They are -aroused only by the contagion of genuine feeling; they are moved only -by finding that the teacher is first genuinely moved himself. - -It is bad enough when an instructor repeats unemotionally what he has -unemotionally acquired about arithmetic or geography. Pupils will -receive mechanically whatever is mechanically imparted; and in even -the most purely intellectual branches such training can at best only -distend the mind of the child without nourishing it. When it comes to -a study which is presented as of value precisely because it kindles -feeling, the absurdity becomes nothing less than monstrous. - -Any child of ordinary intelligence comes sooner or later to perceive, -whether he reasons it out or not, that much of the literature presented -to him is not in the least worth the bother of study if it is to -be taken merely on its face-value. If "The Vicar of Wakefield" or -"Silas Marner" is to be read simply for the plot, either book might -be swept out of existence to-morrow and the world be little poorer. -A conscientious teacher will at least be honest with himself in -determining how much more than the obvious and often slight face-value -he is enabling his class to perceive. - -An ordinary modern school-boy unconsciously but inevitably measures -the values of the books presented to him by the news of the day and -the facts of life as he sees it. If he is not made to feel that books -represent something more than a statement of outward fact or of -fiction, he is too clear-headed not to see that they are of little -real worth, and with the pitiless candor of youth he is too honest not -to acknowledge this to himself. Young people are apt to credit their -elders with enormous power of pretending. The conventionalities of -life, those arrangements which adults recognize as necessary to the -comfort and even to the continuance of society, are not infrequently -regarded by the young as rank hypocrisy. The same is true of any tastes -which they cannot share. Again and again I have come upon the feeling -among students that the respect for literature professed by their -elders was only one of the many shams of which adult life appears to -children to be so largely made up. - -From the purely intellectual side of the matter, moreover, the youth -is right in feeling that there is nothing so remarkable in play or -poem as to justify the enthusiasm which he is told he should feel. If -he sees only what I have called the face-value, he would be a dunce -if he did not imagine an absurdity in the estimate at which the works -of great artists are held. He is precisely in the position of the man -who judges the great painting by its realistic fidelity to details, -and logically, from his point of view, ranks a well-defined photograph -above "The Night Watch" or the Dresden "Madonna." There is more thrill -and more emotion for the boy in the poorest newspaper account of a game -of football than in the greatest play of Shakespeare's,aEuro"unless the lad -has really got into the spirit of the poetry. - -If nothing is to be taken into account but the intellectual content -of literature, the child is therefore perfectly right, and doubly so -from his own point of view. Regarded as a mere statement of fact it -is to be expected that the average modern boy will find "Macbeth" far -less exciting and absorbing than an account of a football match or of -President Roosevelt's spectacular hunting. If we expect the lad to -believe without contention and without mental reservation that the work -of literature is really of more importance and interest than these -articles of the newspaper or the magazine, we are forced to depend upon -the qualities which distinguish poetry as art. If books are to be used -only as glove-stretchers to expand mechanically the minds of the young, -it is better to throw aside the works of the masters, and to come down -frankly to able expositions of literal fact, stirring and absorbing. - -It must be always borne in mind, moreover, that little permanent result -is produced except by what the pupil does for himself. The teacher is -there to encourage, to stimulate, to direct; but the real work is done -in the brain of the student. This limits what may wisely be attempted -in the line of instruction. What the teacher is able to lead the pupil -to discover or to think out for himself is within the limit of sound -and valuable work. With every class, andaEuro"what makes the problem much -more difficultaEuro"with every boy or girl in the class, the capacity will -vary. The signs, moreover, by which we determine how far a child is -thinking for himself, instead of more or less consciously mimicking -the mind of the master, are all well-nigh intangible, and must be -watched for with the nicest discernment. Often the teacher is obliged -to help the class or the individual as we help little children playing -at guessing-games with "Now you are hot," or "Now you are cold;" but -just as the game is a failure if the child has in the end to be told -outright the answer to the conundrum, so the instruction is a failure -if the student does not make his own discovery of the meaning and worth -of poem or play. The moment the instructor finds himself forced to do -the thinking for his class in any branch of study, he may be sure that -he has overstepped the boundary of real work, or at least that he has -been going too rapidly for his pupils to keep pace with him. This -is even likely to be true when he is obliged to do the phrasing, the -putting of the thought into word. He cannot profitably go farther at -that time. In another way, at another time, he may be able to bring -the class over the difficulty; but he is doing them an injury and not -a benefit, if he go on to do for them the thinking, or that realizing -of thought which belongs to putting thought into word. He is then not -educating, but "cramming." It is his duty to encourage, to assist, but -never to do himself what to be of value must be the actual work of the -learner himself. - -All this is evident enough in those branches where results are definite -and concrete, like the learning of the multiplication-table or of the -facts of geography. It is equally true in subjects where reasoning is -essential, like algebra or syntax. Most of all, if not most evidently, -is it vitally true in any connection where are involved the feelings -and anything of the nature of appreciation of artistic values. We -evidently cannot do the children's memorizing for them; but no more -can we do for them their reasoning; and least of all is it possible -to manufacture for them their likings and their dislikings, their -appreciations and their enthusiasms. To tell children what feelings -they should have over a given piece of literature produces about the -same effect as an adjuration to stop growing so fast or a request that -they change the color of their eyes. - -In any emotional as in any intellectual experience, intensity -and completeness must ultimately depend upon the capacity and the -temperament of the individual concerned. It is useless to hope that a -dull, stolid, unimaginative boy will have either the same appreciation -or the same enjoyment of art as his fellow of fine organization and -sensitive temperament. The personal limitation must be accepted, just -as is accepted the impossibility of making some youths proficient in -geometry or physics. It may be necessary under our present systemaEuro"and -if so the fact is not to the credit of existing conditionsaEuro"to present -the dull pupil with a set of ideas which he may use in examinations. -The proceeding would be not unlike providing the dead with an obolus by -way of fare across the Styx; and certainly in no proper sense could be -considered education. Difficult as it may be, the pupil must be made to -think and to feel for himself, or the work is naught. - -Perhaps the tendency to try to do for the student what he should -accomplish for himself is the most general and the most serious of -all the errors into which teachers are likely to fall. The temptation -is so great, however, and the conditions so favorable to this sort of -mistake, that it is not possible to mete out to instructors who fall -into it an amount of blame at all equal to the gravity of the offense. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[42:1] I am unable to resist the temptation to call attention to the -intimation that the writer perceives some relation between poetry and -parsing. It would be interesting if he had developed this. - - - - -V - -FOUNDATIONS OF WORK. - - -The foundation of any understanding or appreciation of literature is -manifestly the power of reading it intelligently. A truth so obvious -might seem to be taken for granted and to need no saying; but any -one who has dealt with entrance examination-papers is aware how -many students get to the close of their fitting-school life without -having acquired the power of reading with anything even approaching -intelligence. Primary as it may sound, I cannot help emphasizing as -the foundation of all study of literature the training of students in -reading, pure and simple. - -The practical value of simple reading aloud seems to me to have been -too often overlooked by teachers of literature. Teachers read to their -pupils, and this is or should be of great importance; but the thing of -which I am now speaking is the reading of the students to the teacher -and to the class. In the first place a student cannot read aloud -without making evident the degree of his intelligent comprehension of -what he is reading. He must show how much he understands and how he -understands it. - -The queer freaks in misinterpretation which come out in the reading -of pupils are often discouraging enough, but they are amusing and -enlightening. Any teacher can furnish absurd illustrations, and it is -not safe to assume of even apparently simple passages that the child -understands them until he has proved it by intelligent reading aloud. -The attention which oral reading is at present receiving is one of the -encouraging signs of the times, and cannot but do much to forward the -work of the teacher of literature. - -Of so much importance is it, however, that the first impression of -a class be good, that the instructor must be sure either to find a -reasonably good reader among the pupils for the first rendering or must -give it himself. In plays this is hardly wise or practicable; but here -the parts are easily assigned beforehand, and the pride of the students -made a help in securing good results. In any work a class should be -made to understand that the first thing to do in studying a piece of -literature is to learn to read it aloud intelligently and as if it were -the personal utterance of the reader. - -In dealing with a class it is often a saving of time and an easy method -of avoiding the effects of individual shyness to have the pupils read -in concert. In dealing with short pieces of verse this is, moreover, -a means of getting all the class into the spirit of the piece. The -method lacks, of course, in nicety; but it is in many cases practically -serviceable. - -Above everything the teacher must be sure, before any attempt is -made to do anything further, that the pupil has a clear understanding -at least of the language of what he reads. My own experience with -boys who come from secondary schools even of good grade has shown me -that they not infrequently display an extraordinary incapability of -getting from the sentences and phrases of literature the most plain -and obvious meaning, especially in the case of verse; while as to -unusual expressions they are constantly at sea. On a recent entrance -examination-paper I had put, as a test of this very power, the lines -from "Macbeth:" - - And with some sweet oblivious antidote - Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff. - -The play is one which they had studied carefully at school, and they -were asked to explain the force in these lines of "oblivious." Here are -some of the replies: - - "Oblivious," used in this quotation, means that the person - speaking was not particular as to the kind of antidote that was - chosen. - - A remedy that would not expose the lady to public suspicion. - - The word "oblivious" implies a soothing cure, which will heal - without arousing the senses. - - An antidote applied in a forgetful way, or unknown to the - person. - - "Oblivious" here means some antidote that would put Lady - Macbeth to sleep while the doctor removed the cause of the - trouble. - - "Oblivious antidote" means one that is very pleasing. - - The word "oblivious" is beautifully used here. Macbeth wishes - the doctor to administer to Lady Macbeth some antidote which - will cure her of her fatal [_sic_] illness, but which will not - at all be any bitter medicine. - - "Oblivious" here means relieving. - - "Oblivious" means some remedy the doctor had forgotten, but - might remember if he thought hard enough. - -Of course many of the replies were sensible and sound, but those hardly -better than these were discouragingly numerous. - -In my own second-year work, in which the students have had all the -fitting-school training and the freshman drill besides, I am not -infrequently confounded by the inability of students to understand the -meaning of words which one uses as a matter of course. The statement -that Raleigh secretly married a Lady in Waiting, for instance, -reappeared in a note-book in the assertion that Sir Walter ran away -with Queen Elizabeth's waiting-maid; and a remark about something which -took place at Holland House brought out the unbelievable perversion -that the event happened "in a Dutch tavern." Personally I have never -discovered how far beyond words of one syllable a lecturer to students -may safely go in any assurance that his language will be understood by -all the members of his class; but this is one of the things which must -be decided if teaching is to be effective. - -It must always be remembered that the vocabulary of literature is to -some extent different from that employed in the ordinary business of -life. The student is confronted with a set of terms which he seldom -or never uses in common speech; he must learn to appreciate fine -distinctions in the use of language; he must receive from words a -precision and a force of meaning, a richness of suggestion, which is -to be appreciated only by special and specific training. It will be -instructive for the teacher to take any ordinary high-school class, for -instance, and examine how far each member gets a complete and lucid -notion of what Burke meant in the opening sentence of the "Speech on -Conciliation:" - - I hope, Sir, that notwithstanding the austerity of the Chair, - your good nature will incline you to some degree of indulgence - toward human frailty. - -An instructor is apt to assume that the intent of a passage such as -this is entirely clear, yet I apprehend that not one high-school pupil -in twenty gets the real force of this unaided. - -If this example seems in its diction too remote from every-day speech -to be a fair example, the teacher may try the experiment with the -sentence in "Books" in which Emerson speaks of volumes that are - - So medicinal, so stringent, so revolutionary, so authoritative. - -Every word is of common, habitual use, but most young people would be -well-nigh helpless when confronted with them in this passage. - -The use in literature of allusion, of figures, of striking and unusual -employment of words, must become familiar to the student before he -is in a condition to deal with literature easily and with full -intelligence. The process must be almost like that of learning to read -in a foreign tongue. For a teacher to ignore this fact is to take the -position of a professor in Italian or Spanish who begins the reading -of his pupils not with words and simple sentences, but with intricate -prose and verse. - -It must be remembered, moreover, that if the diction of literature -is removed from the daily experience of the pupil, the ideas and the -sentiments of literature are yet more widely apart from it. Literature -must deal largely with abstract thoughts and ideas, expressed or -implied; it is necessarily concerned with sentiments more elevated or -more profound than those with which life makes the young familiar. They -must be educated to take the point of view of the author, to rise to -the mental plane of a great writer as far as they are capable of so -doing. Until they can in some measure accomplish this, they are not -even capable of reading the literature they are supposed to study. - -Fortunately it is with reading literature as it is with reading foreign -tongues. Often the context, the general tone, the spirit, will carry -us over passages in which there is much that is not clear to our exact -knowledge. Children are constantly able to get from a story or a poem -much more than would seem possible to their ignorance of the language -of literature. They are helped by truth to life even when they are far -from realizing what they are receiving; so that it would be manifestly -unjust to assume that the measure of a child's profit in a given case -is to be gauged too nicely by his acquaintance with the words, the -phrases, the tropes, the suggestions in which the author has conveyed -it. The fact remains, however, that in attempting to do anything -effective in the way of instruction the teacher has first of all to -train his pupil in the language of literature. - -The student, having learned to read the work which is to be studied, -must approach it through some personal experience. The teacher who is -endeavoring to assist him must therefore discover what in the child's -range of knowledge may best serve as a point of departure. In all -education, no less than in formal argument, a start can be made only -from a point of agreement, from something as evident to the student as -it is to the instructor. Consciously or unconsciously every teacher -acts upon this principle, from the early lessons in addition which -begin with the obvious agreement produced by the sight of the blocks -or apples or beads which are before the child. In literature, too, the -fact is commonly acted upon, if not so universally formulated. If young -pupils are having "The Village Blacksmith" read to them, the teacher -instinctively starts with the fact that they may have seen a blacksmith -at work at his forge. The difficulty is that teachers who naturally do -this in simple poems fail to see that the same principle holds good of -literature of a higher order, and that the more complex the problem, -the greater the need of being sure of this beginning with some actual -experience. - -With this finding some safe and substantial foundation in the pupil's -own experience is connected the necessity of speaking of literature, -as of anything else one tries to teach, in the language of the class -addressed. Of all that we say to our pupils very little if any of all -our careful wisdom really impresses them or remains in their minds -except that portion which we have managed to phrase in terms of their -language and so to put that it appeals to emotions of their own young -lives. They can have no conception of the characters in fiction or -poetry except in so far as they are able to consider these shadows as -moving in their own world. They should be told to make up their minds -about Lady Macbeth, or Robin Hood, or Dr. Primrose as if these were -persons of their own community about whom they had learned the facts -set forth in the books read. They cannot completely realize this, but -they get hold of the fictitious character only so far as they are able -to do it. They will at least come to have a conception that people they -see in the flesh and those they meet in literature are of the same -stuff fundamentally, and should be judged by the same laws. They will -receive the benefit, moreover, whether they realize it or not, of being -helped by fiction to understand real life, and they will be in the -right way of judging books by experience. - -The principle of speaking to pupils only in the language of their own -experience is of universal application, but it is to be applied with -common sense. Nothing is more unfortunate in teaching than to have -pupils feel that they are being talked down to or that too great an -effort is being made to bring instruction to their level. A friend -once told me of a professor who in the days of the first period of -tennis enthusiasm in this country made so great an effort to take all -his illustrations from the game that the class regarded the matter a -standing joke. Yet if care be exercised it is not difficult to mix -with the childish, the familiar, and the commonplace, the dignified, -the unusual, and the suggestive. Starting with a daily experience the -teacher may go on to states of the same emotion which are far greater -and higher than can have come into the actual life of the child, but -which are imaginatively intelligible and possible because although they -differ in degree they are the same in kind. Nothing is lost of the -dignity of a play of Shakespeare's dealing with ambition if the teacher -starts with ambition to be at the head of the school, to lead the -baseball nine, or to excel in any sport; but from this the child should -be led on through whatever instances he may know in history, and in -the end made to feel that the ambition of Macbeth is an emotion he has -felt, even though it is that emotion carried to its highest terms. So -the small and the great are linked together, and the use of the little -does not appear undignified because it has been a stepping-stone to the -great. - -The aim in teaching literature is to make it a part of the student's -intimate and actual life; a warm, human, personal matter, and not a -thing taken up formally and laid aside as soon as outside pressure is -removed. To this end is the appeal made to the pupil's experience, -and to this end is he allowed to make his own estimates, to formulate -his own likes and dislikes. Any teacher, it must be remembered, is -for the scholar in the position of a special pleader. The student -regards it as part of the pedagogic duty to praise whatever is taught, -and instinctively distrusts commendation which he feels may be only -formal and official. He forms his own opinion independently or from -the judgment of his peers,aEuro"the conclusions of his classmates. He -may repeat glibly for purposes of recitation or of examination the -criticisms of the teacher, but he is likely to be little influenced -by them unless they are confirmed by the voice of his fellows and his -own taste. If young people do not reason this out, they are never -uninfluenced by it; and this condition of things must be accepted by -the teacher. - -It follows that it is practically never wise to praise a book -beforehand. The proper position in presenting to the class any work for -study is that it is something which the class are to read together with -a view of discovering what it is like. Of course the teacher assumes -that it has merit or it would not be taken up, but he also assumes -that individually the members of the class may or may not care for it. -The logical and safe method is to set the students to see if they -can discover why good judges have regarded the work as of merit. The -teacher should say in effect: "I do not know whether you will care for -this or not; but I hope you will be able to see what there is in it to -have made it notable." - -When the study of poem or play is practically over, when the pupils -have done all that can be reasonably expected of them in the way of -independent judgment, the teacher may show as many reasons for praising -it as he feels the pupils will understand. He must, however, be honest -in letting them like it or not. He must recognize that it is better -for a lad honestly to be bored by every masterpiece of literature -in existence than to stultify his mind by the reception of merely -conventional opinions got by rote. - -Much the same thing might be said of the drawing of a moral, except -that it is not easy to speak with patience of those often well-meaning -but gravely mistaken pedagogues who seem bound to impress upon -their scholars that literature is didactic. In so far as a book is -deliberately didactic, it is not literature. It may be artistic in -spite of its enforcing a deliberate lesson, but never because of this. -My own instinct would be, and I am consistent enough to make it pretty -generally my practice, to conceal from a class as well as I can any -deliberate drawing of morals into which a writer of genius may have -fallen. It is like the fault of a friend, and is to be screened from -the public as far as honesty will permit. Certainly it should never be -paraded before the young, who will not reason about the matter, but are -too wholesome by nature and too near to primitive human conditions not -to distrust an offering of intellectual jelly which obviously contains -a moral pill. - -Morals are as a rule drawn by teachers who feel that they must teach -something, and something tangible. They themselves lack the conception -of any office of art higher than moralizing, and they deal with -literature accordingly. They are unable to appreciate the fact that the -most effective influence which can be brought to bear upon the human -mind is never the direct teaching of the preacher or the moralizer, -but the indirect instruction of events and emotions. Personally I have -sufficient modesty, moreover, to make me hesitate to assume that I can -judge better than a master artist how far it is well to go in drawing -a moral. If the man of genius has chosen not to point to a deliberate -lesson, I am far from feeling inclined to take the ground that I know -better, and that the sermon should be there. When Shakespeare, or -Coleridge, or Browning feels that a vivid transcript of life should -be left to work out its own effect, far from me be the presumption to -consider the poet wrong, or to try to piece out his magnificent work -with trite moralizing. - -The tendency to abuse children with morals is as vicious as it -is widespread. It is perhaps not unconnected with the idea that -instruction and improvement must alike come through means not in -themselves enjoyable. It is the principle upon which an old New -England country wife rates the efficacy of a drug by its bitterness. -We all find it hard to realize that as far as literature, at least, is -concerned, the good it does is to be measured rather by the pleasure -it gives. If the children entirely and intelligently delight in it, we -need bother about no morals, we needaEuro"as far as the question of its -value in the training of the child's mind goesaEuro"have no concern about -examinations. Art is the ministry of joy, and literature is art or it -is the most futile and foolish thing ever introduced into the training -of the young. - - - - -VI - -PRELIMINARY WORK - - -It will not always do to plunge at once into a given piece of -literature, for often a certain amount of preliminary work is needed -to prepare the mind of the pupil to receive the effect intended by the -author. For convenience I should divide the teaching of literature into -four stages: - - Preliminary; - Inspirational; - Educational; - Examinational. - -The division is of course arbitrary, but it is after all one which -comes naturally enough in actual work. One division will not -infrequently pass into another, and no one could be so foolish as -to suppose literature is to be taught by a cut and dried mechanical -process of any sort. The division is convenient, however, at least for -purposes of discussion; and no argument should be needed to prove that -in many cases the pupil cannot even read intelligently the literature -he is supposed to study until he has had some preparatory instruction. - -The vocabulary of any particular work must first be taken into account. -We do not ask a child to read a poem until we suppose him to have by -every-day use become familiar with the common words it contains. We -should remember that the poet in writing has assumed that the reader is -equally familiar with any less common words which may be used. It is -certainly not to be held that the writer intends that in the middle of -a flowing line or at a point where the emotion is at its highest, the -reader shall be bothered by ignorance of the meaning of a term; that -he shall be obliged to turn to notes to look up definitions, shall be -plunged into a puddle of derivations, allied meanings, and parallel -passages such as are so often prepared by the ingenious editors of -school texts. These things are well enough in their place and way; but -no author ever intended his work to be read by any such process, and -since literature depends so largely on the production of a mood, such -interruptions are nothing less than fatal to the effect. - -I remember as a boy sitting at the feet of an elder sister who was -reading to me in English from a French text. At the very climax of -the tale, when the heroine was being pursued down a wild ravine by a -bandit, the reader came to an adjective which she could not translate. -With true New England conscientiousness she began to look it up in -the dictionary; but I could not bear the delay. I caught the lexicon -out of her hands, and without having even seen the French or knowing -a syllable of that language, cried out: "Oh, I know that word! It -means 'blood-boltered.' Did he catch her?" She abandoned the search, -and in all the horror of the picturesque Shakespearean epithet the -bandit dashed on, to be encountered by the hero at the next turn of -the romantic ravine. I had at the moment, so far as I can remember, -no consideration of the exact truth of my statement. I simply could -not bear that the emotion of the crisis should be interrupted by that -bothersome search for an exact equivalent. The term 'blood-boltered' -fitted the situation admirably, and I thrust it in, so that we might -hurry forward on the rushing current of excitement. This, as I -understand it, is the fashion in which children should take literature. -Few occasions, perhaps, are likely to call for epithets so lurid as -that in which Macbeth described the ghost of Banquo, but the spirit of -the thing read should so carry the reader forward that he cannot endure -interruption. - -When work must be done with glossary and notes in order that the -text may be easily and properly understood, this should be taken as -straightforward preliminary study. It should be made as agreeable -as possible, but agreeable for and in itself. When I say agreeable -for itself, I mean without especial reference to the text for which -preparation is being made. The history of words, the growth and -modification of meanings, the peculiarities and relations of speech, -may always be made attractive to an intelligent class; and since here -and throughout all study of literature students are to be made to do -as much of the actual work as possible, this part is simple. - -The amount of time given to such learning of the vocabulary might -at first seem to be an objection to the method. In the first place, -however, there is an actual economy of time in doing all this at first -and at once, thus getting it out of the way, and saving the waste -of constant interruptions in going over the text; in the second, it -affords a means of making this portion of the work actually interesting -in itself and valuable for its relation to the study of language in -general; and in the third place it both fixes meanings in mind and -allows the reading of the author with some sense of the effect he -designed to give by the words he employed. - -It is hardly necessary to say that in this matter of taking up the -vocabulary beforehand many teachers, perhaps even most teachers, will -not agree with me. The other side of the question is very well put in -a leaflet by Miss Mary E. Litchfield, published by the New England -Association of Teachers in English: - - My pupils, I find, can work longer and harder on "Macbeth" and - "Hamlet," with constantly increasing interest, than on any - other masterpieces suited to school use. Just because these - dramas are so stimulating, the pupils have the patience to - struggle with the difficulties of the text. In general they - feel only a languid interest in word-puzzles such as delight - the student of language; for instance, the expression, "He - doesn't know a hawk from a handsaw," might fail to arouse their - curiosity. But when Hamlet says: "I am but mad north-north - west: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw," - they are on the alert; they really care to know what he means - and why he has used this peculiar expression. Thus word-study - which might be mere drudgery is rendered interesting by the - human element in the playaEuro"the element which, in my opinion, - should always be kept well in the foreground. - -A large number of teachers, many of them, very likely, of experience -greater than mine, will agree with this view. I am not able to do so -because I believe we should know the language before we try to read; -but I at least hold that the first principle in any successful teaching -is that a teacher shall follow the method which he finds best adapted -to his own temperament. For the instructor who is convinced that the -habit of taking up difficulties of language as they are met in actual -reading, to take them up then is perhaps the only effective way of -doing things. It seems to me, however, a little like sacrificing the -literature to a desire to make teaching the vocabulary easier. It is -very likely a simpler way of arousing interest in difficulties of -language; but in teaching literature the elucidation of obscure words -and phrases is of interest or value simply for the sake of the effect -of the text, and I hold that to this effect, and to this effect as a -whole, everything else should be subordinate. Each teacher must decide -for himself what is the proper method, but I insist that no author -ever wrote sincerely without assuming that his vocabulary was familiar -to his audience beforehand. Certainly I am not able to feel that it -is wise to interrupt any first reading with anything save perhaps the -briefest possible explanations, comments that are so short as not to -break the flow of the work as a whole. - -The first reading of a narrative of any sort, it may surely be said, -is chiefly a matter of making the reader, and especially the childish -reader, acquainted with the story. Since little real study can be -accomplished while interest is concentrated on the plot, it may be wise -for the teacher to have a first reading without any more attention to -the difficulties of vocabulary than is absolutely needed to make the -story intelligible, and then to have the difficulties learned before -a second and more intelligent going over of the work as a whole. Each -teacher must decide a point of this sort according to individual -judgment and the character of the class. - -In all the lower grades of school work whatever literature is given to -the children should be in diction and in phrasing so simple that very -little of this sort of preliminary work need be done. So long as what -is selected has real literary excellence it can hardly be too simple. -We constantly forget, it seems to me, how simple is the world of -children. Dr. John Brown, dear and wise soul, has justly said: - - Children are long in seeing, or at least in looking at what is - above them; they like the ground, and its flowers and stones, - its "red sodgers" and lady-birds, and all its queer things; - _their world is about three feet high_, and they are more often - stooping than gazing up. - -It does not follow that children are to be fed on that sort of -water-gruel which is so often vended as "juvenile literature." They -should be given the best, the work of real writers; but of this the -simplest should be chosen, and in dealing with it the children should -not be bothered with thoughts and ideas which are over their heads. -They live, it must be remembered, in a "world about three feet high," -mentally as well as physically. - -In preliminary work the first object is to remove whatever obstacles -might hinder ease and smoothness of progress in reading. Beside having -all obscure terms understood, it is well to call attention to some of -the most striking and beautiful passages in the book or poem which -is to be read. They should be taken up as detached quotations, and -the pupils made to discover or to see how and why each is good. The -pleasure of coming upon them when the text is read helps in itself; it -diminishes the strain upon the mind of the student in the effort of -comprehension, and it doubles the effect of the portions chosen. My -idea is that many fine passages may be treated almost as a part of the -vocabulary of the text; their meaning and force may be made so evident -and so attractive that when the complete play or poem is taken up a -knowledge of these bits helps greatly in securing a strong effect of -the work as a whole. - -We teachers too often ignore, it is to be feared, the strain it is -to the young to understand and to feel at the same time. We fail to -recognize, indeed, how difficult it is for themaEuro"or for any oneaEuro"to -_feel_ while the attention is taxed to take in the meaning of a thing; -so that in literary study we are likely to demand the impossible, the -responsiveness of the emotions while all the force of the child's mind -is concentrated upon the effort to comprehend. Whatever may be done -legitimately to lessen this stress is most desirable. The preparation -of the vocabulary, the elucidation of obscure passages obviously aids -in this; but so does the pointing out of beauties. Instead of being -bothered in the midst of the effort to take in a poem or a play as a -whole and being harassed by the need of mastering details of diction or -phrasing, the student has a pleasant sense of self-confidence in coming -upon obscure matters already conquered; and in the same way receives -both pleasure and a feeling of mastery in recognizing beauties already -familiar. - -The preliminary work, besides this study of any difficulties of -vocabulary, should include whatever is needful in making clear any -difference between the point of view of the work studied and that of -the child's ordinary life. - -In "The Merchant of Venice," for instance, it is necessary to make -clear the fact that the play was written for an audience to which -usury was an intolerable crime and a Jew a creature to be thoroughly -detested. The Jew-baiting of recent years in Europe helps to make -this intelligible. The point must be made, because otherwise Antonio -appears like a cad and Jessica inexcusable. The story is easily brought -home to the school-boy, moreover, by its close relation to the simplest -emotions. - -The two facts that Antonio has incurred the hatred of Shylock through -his kindness to persons in trouble and that he comes within the -range of danger through raising money to aid his friend Bassanio are -so closely allied to universal human feelings and universal human -experience that it is only needful to be sure these points are clearly -perceived to have the sympathies of the class thoroughly awakened. All -this is so obvious that it is hardly necessary to say it except for the -sake of not omitting what is of so much real importance. Every teacher -understands this and acts upon it. - -To include this in the preliminary work may seem a contradiction of -a previous statement that it is not wise to tell children what they -are expected to get from any given book. The two matters are entirely -distinct. What should be done is really that sort of giving of the -point of view which we so commonly and so naturally exercise in telling -an anecdote in conversation. "Of all conceited men I ever met," we say, -"Tom Brandywine was the worst. Why, once I saw him"aEuro"and so on for -the story which is thus declared to be an exposition of overweening -vanity. "See," we say to the class in effect, "you must have felt sorry -to see some kindly, honest fellow cheated just because he was too -honest to suspect the sneak that cheated him. Here is the story of a -great, splendid, honest Moor, a noble general and a fine leader, who -was utterly ruined and brought to his death in just that way." This is -not drawing a moral, and it seems to me entirely legitimate aid to the -student. It is less doing anything for them that they could and should -do than it is directing them so that they may advance more quickly and -in the right direction. - -This indication of the general direction in which the mind should move -in considering a work is closely connected with what might be called -establishing the proper point of departure. This is neither more nor -less than fixing the fact of common experience in the life of the pupil -at which it seems safe and wise to begin. What has been said about -the way in which a teacher calls upon the experience of the pupils to -bring home the picture of the Village Blacksmith at his forge is an -indication of what is here meant. In teaching history to-day, with -a somewhat older grade of pupils than would be reading that poem of -Longfellow's, an instructor naturally makes vivid the Massacre of St. -Bartholomew by comparison with the reports of Jewish massacres in our -own time; and in the same line the fact that it is so short a time -since the King of Servia was assassinated, or that the present Sultan -of Turkey cemented on his crown with the blood of his brothers, may -be made to assist a class to take the point of view necessary for the -realization of the tragedy in "Macbeth." I have already spoken[83:1] -of the humbler, but perhaps even more vital way in which the vice of -ambition that is so strong a motive power in that tragedy is to be -understood by starting from the rivalry in sports, since from this so -surely intelligible emotion the mind of the boy is easily led on to the -ambition which burns to rule a kingdom. It is wise not to be afraid of -the simple. If the poem to be studied is "The Ancient Mariner," it is -well to discover what is the strangest situation in which any member of -the class has ever found himself. After inciting the rest of the pupils -to imagine what must be one's feelings in such circumstances, it is not -difficult to lead them on to understand the declaration of Coleridge -that he tried to show how a man would feel if the supernatural were -actual. - -For natural, wholesome-minded children it is not in the least necessary -to take pains to reconcile them to the supernatural. To the normal -child the line between the actual and the unreal does not exist -until this has been drilled into him by adult teaching, conscious -or unconscious. The normal condition of youth is that which accepts -a fairy as simply and as unquestioningly as it accepts a tree or a -cow. Certainly it is true that children are in general ready enough -for what they would call "make-believe," that stage of half-conscious -self-deception which lies between the blessed imaginative faith of -unsophisticated childhood and the more skeptical attitude of those who -have discovered that "there isn't any Santa Claus." For all younger -classes nothing more is likely to be necessary than to assume that the -wonderful will be accepted. - -When occasion arises to justify the marvellous, the teacher may always -call attention to the fact that in poems like "The Ancient Mariner," -or "Comus," or "Macbeth" the supernatural is a part of the hypothesis. -To connect with this the pupil's conception of the part the hypothesis -plays in a proposition in geometry is at once to help to connect one -branch of study with another, always a desirable thing in education, -and to aid them in understanding why and how they are to accept the -wonders of the story entirely without question. The impossible is part -of the proposition, and this they must be made to feel before they can -be at ease with their author or get at all the proper point of view. - -The aim of literature is to arouse emotion, but we live in a realistic -age, and the youth of the present is not given to the emotional. -Youth, moreover, instinctively conceals feeling, and the lads in our -school-classes to-day are in their outside lives and indeed in most of -their school-work called upon to be as hard-headed and as unemotional -as possible. They are likely to feel that emotion is weak, that to be -moved is effeminate. They will shy at any statement that they should -feel what they read. The notion of conceiving an hypothesis helps just -here. A boy will acceptaEuro"not entirely reasoning the thing out, but -really making of it an excuse to himself for being movedaEuro"the idea that -if the hypothesis were true he might feel deeply, although he assures -himself that as it is he is actually stable in a manly indifference. -The aim of the teacher is to awake feeling, but not to speak of it; to -touch the class as deeply as possible, yet not to seem aware, or at -least not to show that he is aware that the students are touched. - -In this as in all treatment of literature, any connection with the -actual life of the pupil is of the greatest value. It seems to justify -emotion, and it gives to the work of imagination a certain solidity. -Without reasoning the thing out fully, a boy of the present day is -likely to judge the importance of anything presented to him at school -by what he can see of its direct bearing upon his future work, and -especially by its relations to the material side of life. This is even -measurably true of children so young that they might be supposed still -to be ignorant of the realism of the time and of the practical side of -existence. The teacher best evades this danger by starting directly -from some thought or fact in the child's present life and from this -leading him on to the mood of the work of literature which is under -consideration. - -Here and everywhere I feel the danger of seeming to be recommending -mechanical processes for that which no mechanical process can reach. If -the teacher has a sympathetic love for literature, he will understand -that I do not and cannot mean anything of the sort; if he has not -that sympathy, he cannot treat literature otherwise than in a machine -fashion, no matter what is said. It sometimes seems that it is hardly -logical to expect every teacher to be an instructor in literature any -more than it would be to ask every teacher to take classes in music and -painting. Art requires not only knowledge but temperament; both master -and pupil must have a responsiveness to the imaginative, or little can -be accomplished. Since the exigencies of our present system, however, -require that so large a proportion of teachers shall make the attempt, -I am simply endeavoring to give practical hints which may aid in the -work; but I wish to keep plainly evident the fact that nowhere do I -mean to imply a patent process, a mechanical method, or anything which -is of value except as it is applied with a full comprehension that the -chief thing, the thing to which any method is to be at need completely -sacrificed, is to awaken appreciation and enthusiasm, to quicken the -imagination of the student, and to develop whatever natural powers he -may have for the enjoying and the loving of good books.[87:1] - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[83:1] Page 69. - -[87:1] While this volume was in press a writer in the _Monthly Review_ -(London) has remarked: "I fail to see how a literary sense can be -cultivated until a firm foundation of knowledge has been laid whereon -to build, and I tremble to think of the result of an enforced diet of -'The Canterbury Tales,' 'The Faerie Queen,' and 'Marmion' upon a class -as yet ignorant of the elements of English composition." - - - - -VII - -THE INSPIRATIONAL USE OF LITERATURE - - -The term "inspirational," which I have used as indicating the second -division of the teaching of literature, is a somewhat absurdly large -word for what is the most simple and natural part of the whole dealing -with books which goes on between teacher and pupil. It is a term, -however, which expresses pretty well what is or should be the exact -character of the study at its best. The chief effect of literature -should be to inspire, and by "inspirational," as applied to teaching, I -mean that presentation of literature which best secures this end. - -Put in simpler terms the whole matter might be expressed by saying that -the most important office of literature in the school as in life is to -minister to delight and to enthusiasm; and whoever is familiar with the -limited extent to which the required training in college requirements -or in prescribed courses fulfils this office will realize the need -which exists for the emphasizing of this view of the matter. Literature -is made a gymnasium for the training of the intellect or a treadmill -for the exercise of the memory, but it is too seldom that delight which -it must be to accomplish its highest uses. - -That the secondary schools should be chiefly concerned with this phase -of literature seems to me a truth so obvious and so indisputable that -I can see only with astonishment that it is so generally ignored. In -the lower grades, it is true, something is done in the way of letting -children enjoy literature without bothering about didactic meanings, -history of authors, philological instances, critical manipulations, and -all the devices with which later the masterpieces of genius are turned -into bugbears; but even here too many teachers feel an innate craving -to draw morals and to make poetry instructive. They seem to forget -that as children themselves they skipped the moral when they read a -story, or at best received it as an uninteresting necessity, like the -core of an apple, to be discarded when from it had been gleaned all -the sweets of the tale. Nothing is more amazing than the extent to -which all we teachers, in varying degrees, but universally, even to the -best of us, go on dealing with a sort of imaginary child which from -our own experience we know never did and never could exist. The first -great secret of all teaching is to recognize that we must deal with our -pupils as if we were dealing with our own selves at their age. If we -can accomplish this, we shall not bore them with dull moralizings under -the pretext that we are introducing them to the delights of literature. - -Where a class has to be dealt with, the work in any branch must be -adapted to the average mind, and not to the understanding of the -individual; so that in school many things are impossible which at -home, or in individual training, are not difficult. It is not hard, I -believe, to interest even the average modern boy, distracted by the -multiplicity of current impressions, in the best literature, provided -he may be taken alone and competently handled. Almost any wholesome and -sane lad may at times be found to be indifferent in class to the plays -of Shakespeare, for instance; yet I believe few healthy and fairly -intelligent boys of from ten to fifteen could resist the fascination of -the plays if these were read with them by a competent person at proper -times, and without the dilution of mental perception which necessarily -comes with the presence of classmates. Be this, however, as it may, -the teacher must be content with arousing as well as he can the spirit -of the class as a whole. Some one or two of the cleverest pupils will -lead, and may seem to represent the spirit of all; but even they are -not what they would be alone, and in any case the instructor must not -devote himself to the most clever while the rest of the pupils are -neglected. - -It follows that in the choice of pieces to be read to students the -first thing to be considered is that these shall be effective in a -broad sense so that they will appeal to the average intelligence and -taste of a given class easily and naturally. They must first of all -have that strong appeal to general human emotion which will insure a -ready response from youth not well developed A|sthetically and rendered -less sensitive by being massed with other students in a class. Such -a selection is not easy, and it involves the careful study of what -may be termed the individuality of any given group of pupils; but it -seems to me to be at once one of the most obvious and one of the most -important of the points which should be considered in the beginning of -any attempt to create in school a real enjoyment in literature. - -A danger which naturally presents itself at the very outset is the -likelihood of forgetting that the possession of this easy and obvious -interest is not a sufficient reason why a work should be presented to a -class. It too often happens that the desire of arousing and interesting -pupils leads teachers to bring forward things that are sensational and -have little if any further recommendation. Doubtless Dr. Johnson was -right when he declared that "you have done a great thing when you have -brought a boy to have entertainment from a book;" yet after all the -teacher is not advancing in his task and may be doing positive harm -if he sacrifice too much to the desire to be instantly and strongly -pleasing. Flashy and unworthy books are so pressed upon the reading -public at the present day that especial care is needed to avoid -fostering the tendency to receive them in place of literature. - -It is not my purpose to give lists of selections, for in the first -place it has been done over and over, notably in such a collection as -the admirable "Heart of Oak" series; and in the second no selection -can be held to be equally adapted to different classes or to have -real value unless it has been made with a view to the actual needs of -a definite body of pupils. Pupils must be interested, yet the things -chosen to arouse their interest should be those which have not only the -superficial qualities which make an instant appeal, but possess also -those more lasting merits essential to genuine literature. - -In the lower grades it is generally, I believe, possible for the -teacher to control the choice of selections put before students, -although even here this is not always the case. If errors of selection -are made, however, they are largely due to inability to judge wisely -and to a too great deference to general literary taste. A teacher -must remember that two points are absolutely essential to any good -teaching of literature: first, that the selection be suited to the -possibilities of the individual class; second, that the teacher be -qualified so to use and present the selection as to make it effective. -Many conscientious teachers take poems which they know are regarded -as of high merit, and which have been used with advantage by other -instructors, yet which they individually, from temperament or from -training, are utterly inadequate to handle. They either lack the -insight and delight in the pieces which are essential if the pupils -are to be kindled, or are deficient in power so to present their own -appreciation and enjoyment that these appeal to the children. - -For illustration of one of the ways in which a child may be led into -the heart of a poem I have chosen "The Tiger," by William Blake. -This belongs to the class of literature constantly taken for use with -children because it is reputed to be beautiful, yet which constantly -fails in its appeal to a class. It is to me one of the most wonderful -lyrics in the language, yet I doubt if it would ever have occurred to -me to use it in our common schools, and certainly I should never have -dreamed that it was to be presented to children in the lower grades. -I do not know with what success teachers in general may have used it, -but in one or two Boston schools with which I happen to be fairly -well acquainted the effect is pretty justly represented by the mental -attitude of the small lad spoken of in the next chapter. The extent to -which children acquiesce in a sort of mechanical compliance in what to -them are the vagaries of their elders in the matter of literature can -hardly be exaggerated. Doubtless they often unconsciously gain much -of which they do not dream in the way of the development of taste and -perception, but too often the whole of the instruction given along -A|sthetic lines slides over them without producing any permanent effect -of appreciable value. - -Of course I do not contend that children are not advancing unless they -know it. Early training in literature may often be of the highest value -without definite consciousness on the part of the child. Self-analysis -is no more to be expected here than anywhere else in the early stages -of training. The child does not in the least comprehend, for instance, -that the ditties of Mother Goose, meaningless jingles as they are, -are educating his sense of rhythm; he does not understand that his -imaginative powers are being nourished by the fairy-tale, the normal -mental food for a certain stage of the development of the individual as -it is the natural and inevitable product of a corresponding stage in -the development of the race. So long as a child has genuine interest -in a poem or a tale he is getting something from it, but he does not -concern himself to consider anything beyond present enjoyment. In the -earlier stages at least, and for that matter at any stage, the thing -to be secured is interest; and instruction in the lower school grades -should be confined to what is actually needed to make children enjoy a -given piece. Anything beyond this may wisely be deferred. - -In many of the lower grades it is now the fashion to have children -act out poems. The method is spoken of with satisfaction by teachers -who have tried it. I know nothing of it by experience, but should -suppose it might be good if not carried too far. Children are naturally -histrionic, and advantage may be taken of this fact to stimulate their -imagination and to quicken their responsiveness to literature, if -seriousness and sincerity are not forgotten. - -In this early work it does not seem to me that much can wisely be done -in the study of metrical effects. Indeed, I have serious doubts whether -much in the way of the examination of the technique of poetry properly -has place anywhere in preparatory schools. The child, however, should -be trained gradually to notice metrical effects, by having attention -called to passages which are especially musical or impressive. By -beginning with ringing and strongly marked verse and leading on to -effects more delicate the teacher may do much in this line. - -I have called this early work "inspirational" because it should be -directed to making literature a pleasure and an inspiration. The word, -clumsy as it may seem, does express the real function of art, and the -only function which may with any profit be considered in the earlier -stages of the "study" of literature. The object is to make the children -care for good books; to show them that poetry has a meaning for them; -and to awaken in themaEuro"although they will be far from understanding the -factaEuro"a sensitiveness to ideals. The child will not be aware that he -is being given higher views of life, that he is being trained to some -perception of nobler aims and possibilities greater than are presented -by common experiences; but this is what is really being accomplished. -Any training which opens the eyes to the finer side of life is in the -best and truest sense inspiration; and it should be the distinct aim -of the teacher to see to it that whatever else may happen, in the -lower grades or in the higher, this chief function of the teaching of -literature shall not be lost sight of or neglected. - - - - -VIII - -AN ILLUSTRATION - - -To attempt to give a concrete illustration of the method in which any -teaching is to be carried on is in a way to try for the impossible. -Every class and every pupil must be treated according to the especial -nature of the case and the personal equation of the teacher. I perhaps -expose myself to the danger of seeming egotistic if I insert here an -experience of my own, and, what is of more consequence, I may possibly -obscure the very points I am endeavoring to make clear. As well as I -can, however, I shall set down an actual talk, in the hope that it -may afford some hint of the way in which even difficult pieces of -literature may be made to appeal to a child. Of course this is not in -the least meant as a model, but solely and simply as an illustration. - -I once asked a fine little fellow of eight what he was doing at school. -He answeredaEuro"because this happened to be the task which at the moment -was most pressingaEuro"that he was committing to memory William Blake's -"Tiger." - -"Do you like it?" I asked. - -"Oh, we don't have to like it," he responded with careless frankness, -"we just have to learn it." - -The form of his reply appealed to one's sense of humor, and I wondered -how many of my own students in literature might have given answers not -dissimilar in spirit, had they not outgrown the delicious candor which -belongs to the first decade of a lad's life. The afternoon chanced to -be rainy and at my disposal. I was curious to see what I could do with -this combination of Blake and small boy, and I made the experiment. -I should not have chosen the poem for one so young; but it is real, -compact of noble imagination, the boy was evidently genuine, and a real -poem must have something for any sincere reader even if he be a child. - -The following report of our talk was not written down at the time, -and makes no pretense of being literal. It does represent, so far -as I can judge, with substantial accuracy what passed between the -straightforward lad and myself. Too deliberate and too diffuse to have -taken place in a school-room, it yet gives, on an extended scale, -what I believe is the true method of "teaching literature" in all the -secondary-school work. I do not claim to have originated or to have -discovered the method; but I hope that I may be able to make clearer -to some teachers how children may be helped to do their own thinking -and thus brought to a vital and delighted enjoyment of the masterpieces -they study. - -I began to repeat aloud the opening lines of the poem. - -"Why," said the boy, "do you know that? Did you have to learn it at -school when you were little like me?" - -"I'm not sure when I did learn it," I answered; "I've known it for a -good while; but I didn't just learn it. I like it." - -I repeated the whole poem, purposely refraining from giving it very -great force, even in the supreme symphonic outburst of the magnificent -fifth stanza: - - Tiger, tiger, burning bright - In the forests of the night, - What immortal hand or eye - Could frame thy fearful symmetry? - - In what distant deeps or skies - Burnt the fire of thine eyes? - On what wings dare he aspire? - What the hand dare seize the fire? - - And what shoulder and what art - Could twist the sinews of thy heart? - And, when thy heart began to beat, - What dread hand formed thy dread feet? - - What the hammer? what the chain? - In what furnace was thy brain? - What the anvil? what dread grasp - Dare its deadly terrors clasp? - - When the stars threw down their spears, - And watered heaven with their tears, - Did he smile His work to see? - Did he who made the lamb make thee? - -"It sounds rather pretty," I commented, as carelessly as possible. - -"Yes, I suppose so," he assented colorlessly, looking at me rather -suspiciously. - -He was a shrewd little mortal, and he had been so often told at school -that he should like this and that for which in reality he did not -care a button that he was on his guard. I made a casual remark about -something entirely unrelated to the subject. It was well that the lad -should not feel that he was being instructed. Then in a manner as -natural and easy as I could make it I asked: - -"Did you ever see a tiger?" - -"Oh, yes; I've seen lots of them at the circus. Tom Bently never went -to but one circus, but I've been to four." - -"What does a tiger look like?" I went on, ignoring the irrelevant. - -"He's a fierce-looking thing! Didn't you ever see one?" - -"Yes, I've seen them, but I wondered if they looked the same to you as -they do to me." - -"Why, how do they look to you?" - -"I asked you first. It's only fair for you to say first." - -"Well," the small boy said, with a fine show of being determined to -play fair, "I think they look like great big, big, big cats. Did you -think that?" - -"That's exactly what I should have said. They really are a sort of cat, -you know. Did you ever see a keeper stir them up?" - -"Oh, yes, sir; and they snarled like anything, and licked their lips -just like this!" - -He gave a highly gratifying imitation, and then added vivaciously: "If -I were the keeper, I'd keep stirring them up all the time. They did -look so mad!" - -"And they opened and shut their eyes slowly," I suggested, "as if -they'd like to get hold of their keeper." - -"Yes; and their eyes were just like green fire." - -"'Burning bright,'" I quoted; and then without giving the boy time to -suspect that he was being led on, I asked at once: "Did you ever see a -cat's eyes in the dark?" - -"Oh, I saw our cat once last summer, when we were in the country, under -a rosebush after dark, when Dick and I got out of the window after we'd -gone to bed. She just scared me; her eyes were just like little green -lanterns. Dick said they were like little bicycle lamps." - -"If it had been a tiger under a bush in the night,aEuro"'in the forests of -the night,'aEuro"" - -"Oh," interrupted the boy with the eagerness of a discoverer, "is that -what it means! Did he see a tiger in the night under a bush? A real, -truly tiger, all loose? I'd have run away." - -"I don't know if he ever saw one," I answered. "I rather think he -saw a tiger or a picture of one, or thought of one, and then got to -thinking how it must seem to come across one in the woods; when one was -travelling, say, in the East where tigers live wild. If you came upon -one in the forest in the dark, what do you think would be the first -thing that would tell you a tiger was near?" - -"I'd hear him." - -"Did you ever hear a cat moving about?" - -"No," the boy said doubtfully. "Aunt Katie says Spot doesn't make any -more noise than a sunbeam. Could a sunbeam make a noise?" - -"She meant that Spot didn't make any. You'd never hear a tiger coming, -for it's a kind of cat, and moves without sound. You wouldn't know that -way." - -"I'd see him." - -"In the night? You couldn't see him." - -"Yes, I could! Yes, I could!" he cried triumphantly. "I'd see his eyes -just like green fire." - -I had interested the lad and taken him far enough to feel sure he would -follow me if I helped him on a little faster. I was ready to use clear -suggestion when I felt that he would respond to it as if the thought -were his own. - -"Well," I said, "don't you see that this is just what the man who wrote -the poem meant? He got to thinking how the tiger would look in the -night to anybody that came on him in the forest and saw those eyes like -green fires shining at him out of the jungle. Don't you suppose you or -I would think they were pretty big fires if we saw them, and knew there -was a tiger behind them?" - -"I guess we should! Wooh! Do you suppose Bruno'd run?" - -Bruno was a small and silky water-spaniel, a charming beast in his -way, but not especially welcome at this point of the conversation. - -"Very likely;" I slid over the subject. "The man knew that he would -have a feeling how big and strong that tiger must be: and it gave him -a shock to think what a fearful thing the beast would be there in the -dark, with all the warm, damp smells of the plants in the air, and the -strange noises. It would almost take away his breath to think what a -mighty Being it must have taken to make anything so awful as a tiger." - -"Yes," the lad said so quietly that I let him think a little. He had -snuggled up against my knee and laid hold of my fingers, and I knew -some sense of the matter was working in him. After a moment or two I -asked him if he could repeat the first verse of the poem as if he were -the man who thought of the tiger in the jungle there, with fierce eyes -shining out of the dark, and who had so clear an idea of the mighty -creature that he couldn't help thinking what a wonderful thing it was -that it could be created. The boy fixed his eyes on mine as if he were -getting moved and half-consciously desired to be assured that I was -utterly serious and sympathetic; and in his clear childish voice he -repeated in a way that had really something of a thrill in it: - - "Tiger, tiger, burning bright - In the forests of the night, - What immortal hand or eye - Could frame thy fearful symmetry?" - -"If a traveller were in the jungle in the dark night," I went on after -a word of praise for his recitation, "I suppose he couldn't see much -around him, the trees would be so thick. He'd have to look up to the -sky to see anything but the tiger's eyes." - -"He'd see the stars there," the boy observed, just as I had hoped he -would. "I've seen stars through the trees. I was out in the woods long -after dark once." - -"Were you really? The man must have thought the stars looked like the -eyes, as if when the animal was made the Creator went to the sky itself -for that fire. Think of a Being that could rise to the very stars and -take their light in His hand." - -"Ouf!" the small man cried naA-vely. "I shouldn't want to take fire in -my hand!" - -"The writer of the poem was thinking what a wonderful Being He must be -that could do it; but that if He could make a creature like the tiger, -He would be able to do anything." - -The boy reflected a moment, and then, with a frank look, asked: "Did -the fire in a tiger's eyes really come out of the stars?" - -"I don't think that the poem means that it really did," was my answer. -"I think it means that when the poet thought how wonderful a tiger is, -with the life and the fierceness shining like a flame in his eyes, -and how we cannot tell where that fire came from, and that the stars -overhead were scarcely brighter, it seemed as if that was where the -green light came from. He was trying to say how wonderful and terrible -it was to him,aEuro"especially when he thought of coming upon the beast all -alone in the forest in the night with nobody near to defend him." - -The boy was silent, and thinking hard. He had evidently not yet clearly -grasped all the idea. - -"But God didn't make a tiger on an anvil and put pieces of stars in for -eyes," he objected. - -"You told me yesterday that Bruno swims like a duck. He doesn't really, -for a duck goes on the top of the water." - -"Oh, but I meant that Bruno goes as fast as a duck." - -"And you wanted me to know how well he swims, I suppose." - -"Why, of course. Bruno can swim twice as fast as Tom Talcott's dog." - -"You said that about the duck to make me know what a wonderful swimmer -Bruno is, and the man who wrote the poem wanted you when you read it to -feel how wonderful the tiger seemed to him; its eyes as if they were of -fire brought from the stars, its strength so great that it seemed as if -his muscles had been beaten out on an anvil from red-hot steel by some -Being mighty enough to do something no man could begin to do. The poem -doesn't mean that a tiger was really made in this way; but it does mean -that when you think of the strength and fearfulness of the creature, -able to carry off a man or even a horse in its jaws, this is the best -way to give an idea of how terrible the animal seemed." - -The boy accepted this, and so we came to the fifth verse. The range -of ideas here is so much beyond the mind of any child that it was -necessary to suggest most of them, to go very slowly, and in the end -to be content with a childishly inadequate notion of the magnificent -conception. I gave frankly a suggestion of the creation of all the -animals at the beginning, and of how the angels might have stood around -like stars, watching full of interest and of kindness. The boy was -easily made to feel as if he had seen the making of the deer and the -lamb and the horse, and of how the angels might see in one or another -of the animals a help or a friend to man. - -"Then suppose," I said, "that the angels should see God make the great -tiger, royal and terrible. What would they see?" - -"Oh, a great fierce thing," the lad returned. "Do you suppose he'd jump -right at the deer and the lambs?" - -"He would make the angels think how he could. How different from the -other animals he'd be." - -"Yes, he'd have big, big, sharp teeth, and he'd lash his tail, and he'd -put out his claws. Do you suppose he'd sharpen his claws the way Muff -does on the leather chairs?" - -"Very likely he would," I said. "At any rate the angels would think -how the other animals would be torn to pieces if the tiger got hold of -them; and they would think of what would happen to men. Perhaps they -would imagine some poor Hindu woman, with her baby on her back going -through a path in the jungle, and how the tiger might leap out suddenly -and tear them both to pieces. The angels couldn't understand how God -could bear to make any animal so cruel, or how He could be willing to -have anything so wicked in the world. They would be so sorry for all -the suffering that was to come that they would throw down their spears -and not be able to keep back the tears." - -"But angels wouldn't have spears, would they?" - -I went to a shelf of the library in which we were talking and took down -a volume in which I found a picture of St. Michael in full armor. - -"It is like the fire from the stars," I said. "Of course nobody ever -saw an angel to know how he would look, but to show how strong and -powerful an angel might be, a good many men that make pictures have -painted them like knights." - -"But men that had spears wouldn't cry; I shouldn't think angels would." - -"Even the strongest men cry sometimes, my boy; only it has to be -something tremendous to make them. A thing that would make the angels -'water heaven with their tears' must be something so terrible that you -couldn't tell how sad it was." - -"Well, anyway, I'd rather be a tiger than a lamb," he proclaimed rather -unexpectedly. - -"Very likely," I assented, "but I think you'd rather have a lamb come -after Baby Lou than a tiger." - -"Oh, I wouldn't want a tiger to get Baby Lou!" he cried with a tremor. - -"I suppose that is the way the angels might feel at the idea of the -tiger's killing anybody," I rejoined. - -With a lad somewhat older one would have gone on to develop the -thought that to the watching angels the tiger, leaping out fierce -and bloodthirsty from the hand of the Creator, would be like the -incarnation of evil, and that in their weeping was represented all the -sorrowful problem of the existence of evil in the Universe; but this on -the present occasion I did not touch upon. - -"So the angels," I went on, "couldn't keep back their tears; but what -did God do?" - -"Why, He smiled!" the boy answered, evidently with astonishment at the -thought which now for the first time came home to him. "I shouldn't -think He'd have smiled." - -"When you were so disappointed the other day because the carriage was -broken and you couldn't go over to the lake in it, do you remember that -Uncle Jo laughed?" - -"Oh, he knew we could go in his automobile." - -"He knew." - -"Yes, he knew," began the boy, "and soaEuro"" He stopped, and looked at me -with a sudden soberness. "What did God know?" he asked seriously. - -"He must have known that somehow everything was right, don't you think? -He knew why He had made the tiger, just as He knew why He had made the -lamb, and so He could see that everything would be as it should be in -the end." - -"ButaEuro"butaEuro"" - -The boy was speechless in face of the eternal problem, as so many -greater and wiser have been before him. It seemed to me that we had -done quite enough for once, so I broke off the talk with a suggestion -that we try the boy's favorite game. That was the end of the matter for -the time, but in the library of the lad's father the copy of Blake is -so befingered at the page on which "The Tiger" is printed that it is -evident that the boy, with the soiled fingers of his age, has turned it -often. How much he made out of the talk I cannot pretend to say, but at -least he came to love the poem. - -I said at the start that I do not give the conversation, which is -actual, as a sample, but as an illustration. The poem called for more -leading on of the pupil than would many, for as Blake is one of the -most imaginative of English writers, his conceptions are the more -subtle and profound. A class, moreover, cannot be treated always with -the same deliberation as that which is natural in the case of a single -child; but the essential principle, I believe, is the same everywhere. - - - - -IX - -EDUCATIONAL - - -Educational in the broadest sense must anything be which is -inspirational; for to interest the child in literature, to make him -enter into it as into a charming heritage, is more truly to educate -him than would be any pedantic or formal instruction whatever. I have -used the term specifically, however, as a convenient word by which -to designate that form of instruction which is more deliberately -and formally an effort to make clear what literature may be held to -teach. To regard any work of art as directly and didactically teaching -anything is perhaps to fail in so far to treat it as art; but the -point which such a consideration raises is too deep for our present -inquiry, and may be disregarded except in the case of unintelligent -attempts to make every tale or poem embody and convey a set moral. To -endeavor to aid pupils to perceive fully the relation of what they read -to themselves and to the society in which they live is part of the -legitimate work of the teacher of literature. In a word, while the term -is perhaps not the best, I have used the word educational to designate -such study as is directed to helping the student to gain from books a -wider knowledge of life and human nature. - -It is not my idea that in actual practice a formal division is -to be made, and still less that what I have called inspirational -consideration of literature is ever to be discontinued. In the growth -of a child's mind comes naturally a simple and unreflecting pleasure -in literature, beginning, as has been said, with unsophisticated -delight in the marked rhythms of Mother Goose or in the wholesome joy -of the fairy-story. To this is gradually added an equally unreflecting -absorption of certain ideas concerning life, which by slow degrees -gives place to reflection conscious and deliberate. The delight and the -unconscious yielding to the influence of the work of art remain, and to -the end they are more effective than any deliberate and conscious ideas -can be. Nothing that we teach our pupils about a poem can compare in -influence with what they absorb without realizing what they are doing. -One of the great dangers of this whole matter is that we shall hurry -them from an instinctive to a cultivated attitude toward literature; -that we shall replace natural and healthful pleasure by laborious and -conscientious study. In dealing with any piece of real literature the -wise method, it seems to me, is to take it up first for the absolute, -straightforward emotional enjoyment.[110:1] It is of very little use -to study any work which the children have not first come to care for. -After they see why a piece is worth while from the point of view of -pleasure, then study may go further and consider what is the core of -the work intellectually and emotionally. - -In speaking of treating literature educationally I do not refer to -that sort of instruction which so generally and unfortunately takes -the place of the true study of masterpieces. The history of a poem or -a drama, the biography of authors, and all work of this sort should -in any case be kept subordinate and should generally, I believe, -come after the student has at least a tolerable idea and a fair -appreciation of the writings themselves. What is important and what I -mean by the educational treatment of literature is the development of -those general truths concerning human nature and human feeling which -form the tangible thought of a play or poem. The line of distinction -between this and the less tangible ideas which are conveyed by form, -by melody, by suggestion,aEuro"the ideas, in short, which are the secret -of the inspirational effect of a work,aEuro"cannot be sharply drawn. Many -of the tangible ideas will have been obvious in the reading of which -the recognized purpose has been mere delight and inspiration; and on -the other hand the two classes of ideas are so closely interwoven that -it is not possible, even were it advisable, to separate them entirely. -It is possible, however, after the pupil has come to take pleasure in -a work,aEuro"though it should never be attempted sooner,aEuro"to go on to the -deliberate study of the intellectual content, and to take up broad and -general truths. - -One way of preparing a class for the work which is now to be done -is to speak to them of literature as a sort of high kind of algebra; -to let them see, that is, how the distinction between the great mass -of reading-matter and what is fairly to be called literature is not -unlike the difference with which they are familiar in mathematics -between arithmetic and the higher grade of work which comes after. The -newspaper, the text-book, the history, the scientific treatise all -deal with the concrete, just as arithmetic has to do with absolute -quantities. In the mental development of the pupil the time comes when -he is considered sufficiently advanced to go on from the handling of -concrete things to the dealing with the abstract. When he is able to -understand the relation between the sum paid for one bushel of wheat -and the amount needed to purchase fifty, he may be advanced to the lore -of general formulA|, and be made to understand how _x_ may represent -any price and _y_ any number of bushels. In the same way from reading -in a newspaper the story of the assassination of the late King of -Servia, the concrete case, he may go on to read "Macbeth," wherein -Duncan represents any monarch of given character, and Macbeth not a -particular, actual, concrete assassin, but a murderer of a sort, a -type, the general or abstract character. The student has gone on from -the particular to the general; from the concrete to the abstract; from -the arithmetic of human nature to its algebra. - -A similar comparison between history and poetry is on the same grounds -easily to be made between the history lesson and the chronicle plays -of Shakespeare. The student who in his nursery days started out with -the instinctive question in regard to the fairy-tale: "Is it true?" -begins to perceive the difference between literal and essential truth. -He perceives that verity in literature is not simple and obvious -fidelity to the specific fact or event; he learns to appreciate that -the truth of art, like the truth of algebra, lies in its accuracy -in representing truth in the abstract: he comes to appreciate the -narrowness of the nursery question, which asked only for the literal -fact, and he begins to comprehend something of the symbolic. - -An excellent illustration for practical use is a poem like "How they -Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix." Any live, wholesome boy is -sure to tingle with the swing and fervor of the verse, the sense of -the open air, the excitement, the doubt, the hope, the joyful climax. -It is easy to lead the class on to consider how exhilarating such an -experience would be, and to go on from this to point out that the -poem does not describe a literal, actual occurrence; but that it is a -generalized expression of the zest and exhilaration of a superb, all -but impossible ride, with the added excitement of being responsible for -the freedom or even the lives of the folk of a whole city. - -The first feeling of the class on learning that such a ride was not -taken is sure to be one of disappointment. It is better to meet -this frankly, and to compensate for it by arousing interest in the -embodiment of abstract feeling. One great source of the lack of -interest in literature at the present time is that the material, -practical character of the age makes it difficult for the general -reader to respect anything but the concrete fact. Literature is apt to -present itself to the hard-headed young fellow of the public school -as a lot of make-believe stuff, and therefore at best a matter of -rather frivolous amusement. The surest way of correcting this common -attitude of mind is to nourish the appreciation of what fact in art -really means; to cultivate a clear perception of how a poem or a tale -may be the truest thing in the world, although dealing with imaginary -personages and with incidents which never happened.[114:1] - -As an illustration of the sense in which literature is a sort of -algebra of human feeling somewhat more remote from the ordinary life -of a child may be taken another poem of Browning's, "The Lost Leader." -My experience is that most youth of the school age start out by being -able to make little or nothing of this. By a little talk, however, -beginning perhaps as simply as with the way in which a lad feels when -a school-fellow he had faith in has failed in a crisis, has for some -personal advantage gone over to the other party in a school election, -or of how the class would feel if some teacher who had been with the -students in some effort to obtain an extension of privilege to which -the scholars felt themselves to be honestly entitled had for his -own purposes swung over to the opposite side, the whole thing may be -brought home. The boys may be led on to imagine what are the feelings -of a youth eager for the cause of freedom and the uplifting of man, -when one whom he has looked to as a leader, one in whom he has had -absolute faith, deserts the rank for honors or for money. Once the -young minds are on the right track it is by no means impossible to -bring them to see pretty clearly that in the poem is not the question -of a particular man or a particular cause; but that Browning is dealing -with a universal expression of the pain that would come to any man, to -any one of them, in believing that the leader who had been most trusted -and revered had in reality been unworthy, and had betrayed the cause -his followers believed he would gladly die to defend. - -These two examples from Browning I have taken almost at random, and -not because they are unusual in this respect, for this quality is the -universal property of all real literature, and indeed is one of the -tests by which real literature is to be identified. Any selection which -it is worth while to give students at all must have this relation which -I have called "algebraic," but of which the true name is imaginative; -and it is certainly one of the important parts of anything which in a -high sense is properly to be called "teaching" literature to make the -scholars realize and appreciate this. - -The next step is more difficult because far more subtle; and I confess -frankly that it is all but impossible to propose methods by which -formal instruction may deal with it. The aim of literature is largely -the attempt to produce a mood. The prime aim of the poet is to induce -in the reader a state of feeling which will lead inevitably to the -reception of whatever he offers in the same mood in which he offers -it. In the simplest cases no instruction is needed, for even with -school-boys a ringing metre, to take a simple and obvious example, -has somewhat the same effect as the dashing swing of martial music; -whoever comes under its influence falls insensibly into the frame of -mind in which the ideas of the verse should be received. The thoughts -are accepted in the exhilarated spirit in which they were written, and -the effects of the metre are as great or greater than the influence of -the literal meaning. It is a commonplace to call attention to the part -which the melody of poetry or the rhythm of prose plays in the effect, -but how to aid pupils to a responsiveness to this language of form is -not the least of the problems of the teacher. - -The means by which an author establishes or communicates his mood -do not always appeal to the young. Indeed, beyond a certain limited -extent they appeal to most adults only after careful cultivation in the -understanding of art-language. It is as idle to suppose that literature -appeals to everybody and without A|sthetic education as it is to suppose -that sculpture or music will surely meet with a response everywhere. -Nobody expects Beethoven's "Ninth Symphony" or Bach's "Passion Music" -to arouse enthusiasm in accidentally assorted school-children, yet to -all the pupils in a mixed public school are offered the parallel works -of Shakespeare and Milton. Unless a class is made up of boys or girls -with unusual aptitude or wisely and carefully trained to responsiveness -to metrical effect, it seems hardly less idle to offer them "Comus" or -"Lycidas" than it would be to expect them to enjoy a classic concert. -The language of form in the higher range of literature is to them an -unknown tongue. - -Children are likely to be susceptible to marked metrical effects, as -witness their love of "Mother Goose;" but to the more delicate music -of verse they are often largely or completely insensitive. A musical -ear is not, it is probable, to be created, but it is certainly possible -to develop the metrical sense. Children who are born with good native -responsiveness to rhythm often are so badly trained or so neglected -as to seem to have none, and it is part of the office of instruction -to call out whatever powers lie in them latent. This is largely -accomplished by the sort of use of literature which I have called -"inspirational." In the ideal home-training children are so taken -on from the rhymes of the nursery to more advanced literature that -development of the rhythmical sense is continuous and inevitable; but -one of the things which every school-teacher knows best is that this -sort of home-training is rare and the work must be done in the class. -The substitute is a poor one, but it has at least some degree of the -universal human responsiveness to rhythm to appeal to. - -Another difficulty is that children have to learn the verbal language -of literature. Much of the atmosphere of a poem, for instance, is -likely to be produced by suggestion, by the mention of legend or -tale or hero, when the reader must find in previous knowledge and -association a key to what is intended. All this is likely to be -largely or entirely lost on children; and yet this is often the -very quintessence of what the author tries to convey. Children are -constantly at the same disadvantage in understanding literature that -they are in comprehending life. They have not gathered the associations -or experienced the emotions which make so large a part of the language -of great writers. All this renders it difficult for the instructor to -be sure that his class has any inkling even of the mood in which a -piece is intended; yet he must first of all be sure that as far as is -possible he has put them, each pupil according to his character and -acquirements, in touch with the spirit of the work to be studied. - -This cannot be done entirely. We cannot hope that a lad of a dozen -years will enter into all the emotions, all the passions of the great -poets. He may, however, be absorbingly interested and thrilled by -"Macbeth," or the "Tempest," or the "Merchant of Venice." He does not -get from these plays all that his elders might get, any more than he -would perceive the full meaning and passion of a tremendous situation -in real life; but he does get some portion of the message, some -perception of the deeps and heights of human nature. Even if he find no -more than simple, unreasoning enjoyment, he is gaining unconsciously, -and he is obviously nourishing a love for good literature. - -The question of what is thoroughness in school study of literature -is of much importance, and it is of no less difficulty. Certainly -it is not merely the mastery of technical obscurities of language, -the solving of philological puzzles, or the careful examination of -historical facts. Thoroughness in these things, as has already been -said, may be exactness in learning about literature, but not in the -study of literature itself. Consideration of the average acquirements -of pupils in secondary schools makes it fairly evident, it seems to -me, that the study of technique in any of its phases cannot in these -classes be carried very far without the danger of its degenerating into -the most lifeless formalism; and perhaps in nothing else is the tact -and judgment of the teacher so well shown as in the decision how far it -is wise to carry study along particular lines. I have never encountered -a class even in my college work which I could have set to the subjects -recommended in a book for teachers of literature which advises drilling -the students of the high school on the relations in the plays of -Shakespeare "of metre to character," whatever that may mean. Neither -should I set them to distinguish, as is advised by another text-book, -between "the kinds of imagination employed: (_a_) Modifying; (_b_) -Reconstructive; (_c_) Poetical: creative, imperative, or associative." -I could not, indeed, do much with such subjects, from the simple fact -that I do not myself know what such questions mean, and still less -could I answer them. Each instructor, however, must decide for himself, -and with every class decide anew. No fixed standard can be established, -but each case must be settled on its own merits. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[110:1] The vocabulary, of course, being known before the text is -attempted. - -[114:1] See page 221. - - - - -X - -EXAMINATIONAL - - -Examinations are at present held to be an essential part of the -machinery of education, and whether we do or do not believe this to -be true, we are as teachers forced to accept them. Especially is it -incumbent on teachers in the secondary schools to pay much attention to -accustoming pupils to these ordeals and to preparing them to go through -them unscathed. Many instructors, as has been said already, become so -completely the slaves to this process that they confine their efforts -to it entirely, and few are able to prevent its taking undue importance -in their work and in the minds of their pupils. - -The general principle should be kept in mind that no examination is of -real value for itself in the training of youth, and that to study for -it directly and explicitly is fatal to all the higher uses of the study -of literature or of anything else. Tests of proficiency and advancement -are necessary, but they should be regarded as tests, and no pains -should be spared to impress upon every student the fact that beyond -this office of measuring attainment they are of no value whatever. - -Examinations exist, however, and nothing which can be done directly is -likely to remove from the minds of sub-freshmen the notion that they -study literature largely if not solely for the sake of being able to -struggle successfully with the difficulties of entrance papers. The -only means of combating this idea is the indirect method of making -the study interesting in and for itself; of nourishing a love for -great writings and fostering appreciation of masterpieces. It may be -added, moreover, that this is also the surest way of securing ease and -proficiency on just those lines in which it is the ambition of pedantic -teachers to have their pupils excel. Classes are more effectively -trained for college tests by teaching them to think, to examine for -themselves, to have real responsiveness and feeling for literature, -than they can possibly be by any drill along formal lines. Here as -pretty generally in life the indirect is the surest. - -More is done in the way of preparation for any rational examination, -I believe, by training youth to recognize good literature and to -realize what makes it good, than by any amount of deliberate drill of -especially prescribed works or laborious following out of the lines -indicated by old examination-papers. Much of this is effected by what -has been spoken of as inspirational teaching, the simple training -of children to have real enjoyment of the best. In the lower grades -of school this is all that can be profitably attempted. Before the -student leaves the secondary school, however, he should be able for -himself to make in a general way an application of the principles which -underlie literary distinctions. He should be able broadly to recognize -the qualities which belong to the best work. He should be able from -personal experience to appreciate the force of the remarks of De -Quincey: - - What is it that we mean by literature? Popularly, and amongst - the thoughtless, it is held to include everything that is - printed in a book. Little logic is required to disturb this - definition. The most thoughtless person is easily made aware - that in the idea of literature one essential element is some - relation to a general and common interest of man, so that what - applies only to a local or professional or merely personal - interest, even though presenting itself in the shape of a book, - will not belong to literature. . . . Men have so little - reflected on the higher functions of literature as to - find it a paradox if one should describe it as a mean or - subordinate purpose of books to give information. But this is - a paradox only in the sense which makes it honorable to be - paradoxical. . . . What do you learn from "Paradise Lost"? - Nothing at all. What do you learn from a cookery-book? - Something new, something you did not know before, in - every paragraph. But would you therefore put the wretched - cookery-book on a higher level of estimation than the divine - poem? What you owe to Milton is not any knowledge, of which a - million separate items are still but a million of advancing - steps on the same earthly level; what you owe is power, that - is, exercise and expansion to your own latent capacity of - sympathy with the infinite, where each pulse and each separate - influx is a step upward, a step ascending as upon a Jacob's - ladder from earth to mysterious altitudes above the earth. - All the steps of knowledge, from first to last, carry you - further on the same plane, but could never raise you one foot - above your ancient level of earth; whereas the very first step - in power is a flight, is an ascending movement into another - element where earth is forgotten.aEuro""The Poetry of Pope." - -If a boy or girl has any vital and personal perception of the truth -which is here so eloquently set forth, this perception affords a -certain criterion by which to judge whatever work comes to hand. It -will also give both the inclination and the power to judge rightly, so -that anything which an examination-paper may legitimately ask is in so -far within the scope of ordinary thought. - -I have ventured, in another chapter, to give some idea of the way -in which I think such a work as "Macbeth" might be treated in -the secondary school. I wish to emphasize the fact that it is an -illustration and not a model. It is the way in which I should do it; -but the teaching of literature, I repeat, is naught if it is not marked -by the personality of the teacher. Of the results to be aimed at one -need not be in doubt; concerning the methods there are and there should -be as many opinions as there are sound and individual instructors. This -illustration I have included because it may serve as a sort of diagram -to make plain things which can only clumsily be presented otherwise, -and because I hope that it may be suggestive even to teachers who -differ widely from this exact method. - -What is aimed at in this manner of treating the play is primarily -the enjoyment of the pupil, secondarily the broadening of his -mind, and thirdly the training of his powers for the examinations -inevitably lying in wait for him. It may seem contradictory that I -put pleasure first and yet would begin with straightforward drill on -the vocabulary. Such training, however, is preparatory to the taking -up of literature, I believe it necessary to the best results, and -I have already said that to my mind no need exists for making this -dull. Even if it be looked upon as simple drudgery, however, I should -not shirk it. Children should be taught that they are to meet hard -work pluckily. They cannot evade the multiplication-table without -subsequent inconvenience, and the sooner they realize that this is true -in principle all through life, the better for them. Their enjoyment, -moreover, will be tenfold greater if they earn it by sturdy work. - -It would be well, I believe, if all teachers in the secondary -schools who are in the habit of concerning themselves largely with -examinations and of allowing the minds of those under them to become -fixed on these could realize that readers of blue-books are sure to -be favorably impressed by two things: by the expression of thoughts -obviously individual, and by the evidence of clear thinking. If these -two qualities characterize an examination-book, the chances of its -passing muster are so large that exact formal knowledge counts for -little in comparison. All teachers who are intelligently in earnest -try to put as little stress on examinations as is possible under -existing conditions, but not all keep clearly in mind the fact that -the best remedy for possible harm is the cultivation of the student's -individuality. - -The question of written work in preparation for entrance tests is -a difficult one, and it is one which has been largely answered by -the papers set by the colleges. It is natural that teachers who are -entirely aware that their own reputations will largely depend upon the -success of the candidates they send up should endeavor to train their -classes in the especial line of writing which seems best to suit the -ideas of examiners. The principle of selection is not, it seems to me, -a sound one, but it is inevitable. The one thing which may be done is -to make the topics selected as human and as personal as possible: to -insist that the boy or girl who is writing of Lady Macbeth or Hamlet -shall make the strongest effort possible to realize the character as -a real being; shall as far as possible take the attitude of writing -concerning some actual person about whom are known the facts set down -in the play. This is less difficult than it sounds, and while it is -never entirely possible for a child to realize Lady Macbeth as if she -were a neighbor, most children can go much farther in this direction -than is generally appreciated. - -Themes retelling the plot of novel or play are seldom satisfactory. -Satisfactorily to summarize the story of a work of any length requires -more literary grasp than can possibly be expected in a secondary -school. It is far better to set the wits of children to work to fill up -gaps of time in the stories as they are originally written; to imagine -what Macbeth and his wife had said to each other before he goes to the -chamber of Duncan in the second act, for instance, or the talk between -Silas Marner and Eppie after the visit in which Godfrey Cass disclosed -himself as the girl's father. These are not easy subjects, and it is -not to be expected that the grade of work produced will be high, but it -is at least likely to be original and genuine. - -Description is a snare into which it is easy for teacher or pupil -to fall. It generally means the more or less conscious imitation of -passages from the reading, or a sort of crazy-quilt of scraps in which -sentences of the author are clumsily pieced together. In the highest -grades good work may sometimes be obtained by asking pupils to describe -the setting of a scene in a play, but this is far too difficult for -most classes. - -Examination of character, of situations, or of motives affords the best -opportunity for written work in connection with literary study. To make -literary study subordinate to the practice of composition is manifestly -wrong, yet in many schools this is done in practice even if it is not -justified in theory. Children should be taught to write by other means -than by themes in connection with the masterpieces of literature. The -old cry against using "Paradise Lost," and the soliloquies of Hamlet -as exercises in parsing might well be repeated with added emphasis of -the modern fashion of making Shakespeare and Milton mere adjuncts to a -course in composition. The written work is, of course, to be corrected -where it is faulty, but its chief purpose should never be anything -outside of the better understanding and appreciation of the authors -read. - -In a brief, sensible pamphlet on "Methods of Teaching of Novels" May -Estelle Cook remarks: - - There is another point which I should like to make for the - study of character, though with some hesitation, since there - is room for great difference of opinion about it. It is this: - that the study of character leads directly to the exercise of - the moral instinct. Whether we like it or not, it is true that - the school-boyaEuro"even the boy, and much more the girlaEuro"will - raise the question, "Is it right?" and "Is it wrong?" and - that we must either answer or ignore these questions. My own - feeling about it is that this irrepressible moral instinct - was included by Providence partly for the purpose of making a - special diversion in favor of the English teacher. . . . A boy - will read scenes in "Macbeth" through a dozen times for the - sake of deciding whether Macbeth or Lady Macbeth was chiefly - responsible for the murder of Duncan, when he will read them - only once for the story; and this extra zeal is not so much - because he wants to satisfy a craving for facts, as because he - enjoys fixing praise or blame. . . . My experience with the Sir - Roger de Coverley papers has been that the class failed to get - any imaginative grasp of them until I frankly appealed to the - moral instinct by asking, "What did Addison mean to teach in - this paper?" "Did the Eighteenth Century need that lesson?" and - "Do we still need it?" By that process the class have finally - reached a grasp of Sir Roger which has given them fortitude to - write a theme on "Sir Roger at an Afternoon Tea." - -My own definition of imagination is evidently not that of the writer, -and I am not able to agree that this appeal to the moral instinct -develops anything other than an intellectual understanding; but that -point is unimportant here. The thing which is to be noted is that -on the moral side children may be able to think intelligently and -individually in regard to the characters and the situations of the -plays and the novels read. The teacher, in choosing such subjects for -written work, must, of course, be careful to avoid topics which have -already been considered in the book itself. In a novel by George Eliot, -for instance, all possible moral issues are likely to be so discussed -and rediscussed by the novelist as to leave little room for the -thought of the reader to exercise itself independently; but in all the -plays of Shakespeare, and in the fiction of most of the masters, the -opportunities are ample. - -The supreme test of any subject which is to be given to students in -their written work is whether it is one upon which it is reasonable -to suppose they can and will have thought which is individual and -therefore original. If it were necessary to make nice distinctions -between that which is and that which is not legitimately part of the -study of literature as an art, one must go much further than this. The -writing of themes, however, is part of the examinational side of the -work; the main thing is to be sure that it is not dwelt upon more -than is necessary, and that it is within the range of the personal -experience of the student. If teachers feel compelled to set their -classes to write formal and lifeless themes on pedantic topics such -as too often appear in examination-papers, they will do well to keep -in mind that this is not the study of literature, but a stultifying -process which lessens the power of appreciation and replaces -intelligent comprehension by mechanical imitation. - - * * * * * - -In connection with the subject of this chapter I may mention a -device which may not be without practical value in secondary-school -examinations. It affords a means of discovering how well the student -is succeeding in grasping general principles and in making actual -application of them; while at the same time it should impress upon him -the fact that he is not studying merely a series of required readings, -but the nature and qualities of literature. - -On an examination-paper in second-year English at the Institute of -Technology was put this test: - - It is assumed that the student has never read the following - extract. State what seem its excellent points (_a_) of - workmanship; (_b_) of thought; (_c_) of imagination. - -To this was added a brief extract from some standard author. - -The opening statement was made in order that the class should -understand the selection to be not from any required reading, but from -some work presumably entirely unfamiliar. The points of excellence only -were asked for in order to fix attention on merits; and indirectly -to strengthen, so far as might be, the perception of the importance -of looking in literature for merits rather than for defects. It is -undoubtedly proper that scholars should be able to perceive defects, -but this power is best trained by educating them to be sensitive and -responsive to excellencies.[131:1] - -The necessities of time made it impossible to put upon the papers of -which I am speaking extracts of much length, and the class were told -that not much was expected in comment upon the thought expressed. -The purpose of the question, that of seeing how intelligently they -were able to apply such principles as they had learned, was also -frankly put. They were warned against generalities and statements -unsupported. Then they were left to their own devices. The results -were all suggestive, and of course were of widely varying degrees of -merit. A few samples may be given, chosen, I confess, from those more -interesting. On one paper were the opening lines of the second book of -"Paradise Lost." - - High on a throne of royal state, which far - Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, - Or where the gorgeous east with richest hand - Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold, - Satan exalted sat. - -Among the comments were these: - - Of the workmanship of this selection we may say that it is - good. The selection of words is especially forcible. "Gorgeous - east" and "richest hand" are extremely so. But what I consider - a fine use of a word is the word "barbaric." Here we can see - the early inhabitants of the uncivilized rich countries of the - east; the inhabitants ignorant of the value of their wealth, - throwing it around as we would the pebbles on a beach. The - thought and the imagination are good. We can see before us the - vividly portrayed picture. There sits Satan high above his - surrounding in such rich and dazzling magnificence that it - outshines even the richest kings of the richest part of the - world. - - * * * * * - - The best point of the workmanship consists in placing the - description first and not completing the thought until the last - line; thus keeping the reader in suspense, and causing careful - attention to be put on all the sentence. The words "high," - "throne," "royal," and "exalted" combine to bring out the - thought of Satan's majesty. The thought of unbounded wealth is - brought out by the use of the word "showers" in the third line. - The author is able to give us a much more vivid idea of the - magnificence of the throne by letting us construct the throne - to suit ourselves than by giving a detailed description and - leaving nothing to the imagination. Even the materials are only - suggested, the whole idea being one of unbounded wealth and - splendor. - - * * * * * - - The choice of words is one of the best points in the - workmanship of the quotation. The arrangement also adds - emphasis. All the descriptions of the throne are so vivid that - the mind is deeply impressed by the splendor and richness of - the throne. The "gorgeous east" is very expressive of wealth - and beauty. With this arrangement of words the piece becomes - very striking and the choice of the strongest words is shown - too in touch with the whole sentence. Whereas on the other hand - if any other arrangement had been used much of the force of - these words would have been lost. The thought of the extract - is to describe the great wealth and beauty with which Satan is - surrounded. The writer must have a very vivid imagination to - describe such a scene of wealth and beauty. The first word, - "High," appeals directly to the imagination and immediately - gives the impression of power. - -These answers were written by boys who had not been called upon to do -anything of the sort before, and while their inadequacy is evident -enough, they are genuine, and are sound as far as they go. Of course, -after such a test, the first business of the teacher is to go over the -selection and to show how he would himself have answered the question. -The class is then ready to appreciate qualities which might be recited -to them in vain before they have set their minds to the problem. In -the examples I have given no one has touched, for instance, upon the -suggestiveness of the words "Ormus" and "Ind," but very little is -needed to make them see this after they have had the passage in an -examination-paper. - -A couple of examples dealing with the first two stanzas of Byron's -"Destruction of Sennacherib" may be given by way of showing how a -different selection was treated. - - The first thing I noticed in reading the extract was the - perfect rhythm. You cannot read the extract without wanting - to say it aloud. Then the choice of words struck me: "The - _sheen_ of their spears;" "when summer is _green_." It is hard - for me to distinguish workmanship, thought, and imagination. - I cannot tell whether the words and metaphors used in the - extract were the result of deliberate choice and of long - thought; but I strongly suspect that he saw the whole thing in - his imagination, and the words just came to him. It is hard - to understand how anything that reads so smoothly could have - been written with labor. The strongest point of the extract - seems to be its richness in illustration: "The Assyrian came - down like the wolf on the fold." No long, detailed description - could explain better the wildness of such an attack, the sudden - swoop of some half-barbaric horde, striking suddenly, and then - disappearing into the night. "The sheen of the spears was like - stars on the sea." The flash from a spear would be just such a - gleam as the reflected star from the crest of a wave, visible - for a moment and then gone. - - * * * * * - - Some of its excellent points of workmanship are melody and - selection of words. The melody is excellent. It has a soothing - effect when read aloud, and there is not a place where - one would hesitate in regard to the accenting of words. I - believe the melody is so good that a person only knowing the - pronunciation of the first line could almost read the rest - of it correctly because the sound of each line is so closely - connected with that of all other lines. The selection of words - is very good. There is not a place where a substitution could - be made which would improve the meaning, sense, or melody. The - extract shows great thought. In the last paragraph especially - where the Assyrians are compared to the leaves of summer and - in autumn. No better thought could bring out more clearly how - badly the host was defeated. In the first paragraph it also - compares the Assyrians to a wolf coming down upon a fold. - This again gives a definite idea, and seems to point out how - confident they were of victory. The imagination is very vivid. - You can almost think you were on the field and that all the - events were taking place before you. - -I have copied these partly to emphasize the point that it is idle to -expect too much, and partly to illustrate the form in which genuine -perception is likely to work out upon a school examination-paper. These -have not been chosen as the best papers written, but each is good -because each shows sincere opinion. - -This sort of question is of course in the line of what is constantly -done in class, but it is after all a different thing when it is made -to emphasize the idea that an examination is a test of the power to -appreciate literature instead of an exercise of memory. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[131:1] See page 205. - - - - -XI - -THE STUDY OF PROSE - - -Method in teaching is properly the adaptation of the personality of -a given teacher to the personality of a given class. It cannot be -defined by hard and fast rules, and the only value in presenting such -illustrations as the following is that they may afford hints which -teachers will be able with advantage to develop in terms of their own -individuality. The way that is wise in one is never to be set down as -the way best for another; and here as elsewhere I offer not a model -but simply an illustration. If it suggest, it has fulfilled a better -purpose than if it were taken blindly as a rigid guide. - -My own feeling would be that classes in literature should be provided -with nothing but the bare text, without notes of any kind unless with -a glossary of terms not to be found in available books of reference. -In the matter of looking up difficulties the books of reference in the -school library should be used; and if the school has no library beyond -the dictionary, I should still hold to my opinion. The vocabulary may -be very largely worked out with any fairly comprehensive dictionary, -and what cannot be discovered in this way is better taken _viva voce_ -in recitation than swallowed from notes without even the trouble of -asking. Much will be done, moreover, by the not unhealthy spirit of -emulation which is sure to exist where the pupils are set to use their -wits and to report the result in class. They will remember much better; -and, what in general education is of the very first importance, they -will have admirable practice in the use of books of reference. Many -difficulties must be explained by the teacher; but this, I insist, is -better than the following of notes, a habit which is sure to degenerate -into lifeless memorizing. The model text for school use would be -cut in those few passages not suited for the school-room, would be -clearly printed, and would be as free as possible from any outside -matter whatever. In the case of poetry the ideal method would be to -keep the text out of the hands of the student altogether until all -work necessary to the mastering of the vocabulary had been done: but -in practice such voluntary reading as a pupil chose to do beforehand -would do no harm other than possibly to distract his attention from -the learning of the meaning of words and phrases. In prose he will -generally be in a key which allows the interruption of a pause for -looking up words without much injury to the effect of the work. - -The study of prose is of course directed by the same principles as that -of poetry, but the application is in school-work somewhat modified -in details. In the first place the vocabulary of any prose used -in the schools is not likely to contain obsolete words such as are -found in Shakespeare, and in the second place the length of a novel -forbids its being read aloud in class in its entirety. I have taken my -illustrations chiefly from books included in the College Requirements, -because these books are the ones with which the majority of teachers -are obliged to work. The Sir Roger de Coverley papers are sure to -be taken up in any school-room where literature is studied to-day, -and Burke "On Conciliation" is one of the inevitable obstacles in -the way of every boy who wishes to enter college. Whatever the work, -however, the important thing is that each pupil shall understand, shall -appreciate, and shall connect what he reads with his own life. - -The order in which different works are taken up in class is a matter -of much moment. No rules can be given arbitrarily to govern the -arrangement of the readings, since much depends upon the individual -class to be dealt with. On general principles, for instance, it might -seem that Burke's "Speech," as being the least imaginative of the -prescribed work, might well come first; but on the other hand, the -argument demands intellectual capacity and maturity which will often -require that it be not put before a given group of scholars until they -have had all the training they can gain from the other requirements. -A teacher can hardly afford to have any rule in the whole treatment -of literature which is not so flexible that it may be modified or -disregarded entirely when circumstances require. The ideal method, -perhaps, would be to give a class first a few short pieces as tests, -and then to arrange their longer work upon the basis of the result. - -If the "Speech" is to be taken up first or last, it must be preceded by -a clear understanding of the history of the conditions with which Burke -dealt. This knowledge should have been obtained in the history class, -and the use of facts obtained in another branch affords one of the -opportunities for doing that useful thing which should be kept always -in sight, the enforcing of the fact that all education is one, although -for convenience of handling necessarily divided into various branches. -If the class has not had the requisite instruction in history, the -teacher of English is forced to pause and supply the deficiency, as -it is hopeless to try to go on without it. The argument of Burke is -pretty tough work for any class of high-school students, and without -familiarity with the circumstances which called it forth is utterly -unintelligible. - -The vocabulary of Burke contains few words which need to be studied -beforehand, and indeed it is perhaps better to treat the speech as -so far a logical rather than an imaginative work that without other -preparation than a thorough mastery of the circumstances under which -it was delivered and of the political issues with which it dealt the -class may be given the text directly. In the first reading the thing -to be insured is the intelligent comprehension of the language and of -the argument. In the first half-dozen paragraphs, for instance, such -passages as these must be made perfectly clear: - - I hope, Sir, that notwithstanding the austerity of the Chair, - your good nature will incline you to some degree of indulgence - toward human frailty. - - The grand penal bill. - - Returned to us from the other House. - - We are not at all embarrassed (unless we please to make - ourselves so) by any incongruous mixture of coercion and - restraint. - - From being blown about by every wind of fashionable doctrine. - -This is clear enough in meaning, but the class should notice the -suggestion of the biblical phrase which insinuates that a good deal of -the political fluctuation which has complicated the question of the -treatment of the colonies has been like the hysterical instability of -those who run after every fresh eccentricity offered in the name of -religion. - - I really did not think it safe or manly to have fresh - principles to seek upon every fresh mail that should arrive - from America. - - It is in your equity to judge. - - Parliament, having an enlarged view of objects. - - A situation which I will not miscall, which I dare not name. - - That the public tribunal (never too indulgent to a long and - unsuccessful opposition) would now scrutinize our conduct with - unusual severity. - - We must produce our hand. - - Somewhat disreputably. - -The whole oration is studded with passages such as these, and it is -the habit of too many instructors to expect the student to depend upon -notes for the solution of such difficulties. I have already indicated -that I believe this to be an unwise and weakening process; and in a -political document of this sort a drill for elucidating difficulties -may well be undertaken when in an imaginative work more latitude may be -allowed in the way of sliding over them. - -The reading of the speech as a whole could hardly be attempted with any -profit until the class has mastered its technicalities and its logic. -The oration differs in this from more imaginative literature. Here it -is not only proper but necessary to make analysis part of the first -reading. - -The class should for itself make a summary of the speech as it goes -forward. For each paragraph should be devised a single sentence which -gives clearly and concisely the thought, so that at the conclusion a -complete skeleton shall have been made. Each student should make these -sentences for himself as part of his preparation of a lesson, and from -a comparison in the class the final form may be selected. Some of the -school editions do this admirably, but one of two things seems to me -indisputable: either the "Speech" is too difficult for students to -handle or they should make their own summaries. To do this part of the -work for them is to deprive the study of its most valuable element. -The best justification such a selection can have for its inclusion -in the list of required books is that it may fairly be used for this -careful analytical work without prejudice to the effect of the piece as -a whole. In other words, no objection exists to treating this especial -selection first from the purely intellectual point of view. To consider -a play of Shakespeare first intellectually would seem to me utterly -wrong; but this argument of Burke is intentionally addressed to the -reason rather than to the imagination, and would therefore logically be -so read. - -Beside the mere interpretation of difficult passages, the pupil should -be made to discern and to weigh the value and effect of the admirable -sentences in which the orator has condensed whole trains of logic. - - The concessions of the weak are the concessions of fear. - - A wise and salutary neglect. - - The power of refusal, the first of all revenues. - - The voluntary flow of heaped-up plenty. - - All governmentaEuro"indeed, every human benefit and enjoyment, - every virtue and every prudent actaEuro"is founded on compromise - and barter. - -The study of phrases of this sort is admirable training for the -reasoning faculties of the scholar, it educates the powers of reading, -and it may be made a continuous lesson in the nature and value of -literary technique. Of this study of literary workmanship I shall speak -later; here it is sufficient to point the necessity at once and the -advantage of dwelling on these vital thoughts so admirably expressed. - -By the time the oration has been gone through with, and a summary of -each paragraph made in the class, a skeleton is ready from which the -argument may be considered as a whole. In some schools students will be -able to criticise from an historical point of view, and any intelligent -boy to whom the oration is given for study should be able to judge of -the logic of the plea. - -If the "Speech" is to justify its claim to being literature in the -higher sense, however, it is not possible to stop with the intellectual -study. The question of what constitutes literature is better taken up, -it seems to me, near the end of the course of secondary work, if it is -to come in at all; but preparation for dealing with that question must -come all along the line. When Burke has been studied for his political -meanings, his argument summed up and examined, the intellectual force -of the parts and of the whole sufficiently considered, then it is -necessary to look at the imaginative qualities of the work. - -I would never set children to examine any piece of prose or verse for -any qualities until I was sure they understood what they are to look -for. If they are to examine the oration for imaginative passages, -they must first know clearly what an imaginative passage is. Here the -previous training of the class is to be reckoned with. Some classes -must be taught the significance of the term "imaginative" by having -the passages pointed out to them and then analyzed; others are so far -advanced as to be able to discover them. The thing I wish to emphasize -is that when the simply intellectual study has progressed far enough, -the imaginative must follow. Passages which may be used here are such -as these: - - My plan . . . does not propose to fill your lobby with - squabbling colony agents, who will require the interposition - of your mace at every instant to keep peace among them. It - does not institute a magnificent auction of finance, where - captivated provinces come to general ransom by bidding against - each other, until you knock down the hammer, and determine a - proportion of payments beyond all powers of algebra to equalize - and settle. - - * * * * * - - Such is the strength with which population shoots in that part - of the world, that, state the numbers as high as we will, - whilst the dispute continues, the exaggeration ends. - - * * * * * - - Look at the manner in which the people of New England have of - late carried on the whale fishery. Whilst we follow them among - the tumbling mountains of ice, and behold them penetrating into - the deepest frozen recesses of Hudson Bay and Davis Strait, - whilst we are looking for them beneath the Arctic Circle, we - hear that they have pierced into the opposite region of polar - cold, that they are at the antipodes and engaged under the - frozen Serpent of the south. Falkland Island, which seemed - too remote and romantic an object for the grasp of national - ambition, is but a stage and resting-place in the progress of - their victorious industry. Nor is the equinoctial heat more - discouraging to them than the accumulated winter of both poles. - We know that while some of them draw the line and strike the - harpoon on the coast of Africa, others run the longitude and - pursue their gigantic game along the coast of Brazil. No sea - but is vexed by their fisheries. No climate that is not witness - of their toils. - - * * * * * - - A people who are still, as it were, but in the gristle, and not - yet hardened into the bone of manhood. - -Passages of this sort are frequent in the speech, and it is not -difficult to make the pupils not only recognize them, but appreciate -the quality which distinguishes them from the matter-of-fact statements -of figures, statistics, or other necessary information. - -A step further is to make the class see how the imagination shows in a -passage like the famous sentence: - - I do not know the method of drawing up an indictment against a - whole people. - -These dozen or so words may profitably be made the subject for an -entire lesson, and if this seem a proportionately extravagant amount -of time to give to a single line, I can only say that to do one thing -thoroughly is not only better than to do a score superficially, but in -the long run it is economy of time as well. If the class can be led to -discuss the meaning of the phrase, and the principles upon which Burke -rested the argument which is behind this superb proposition, not only -will the hour have been well spent in developing the ideas of the -students, but the whole oration will be wonderfully illuminated. When -to this is added an adequate understanding of the imaginative grasp -which seizes the personality of a whole nation, perceives its majesty, -its sovereignty, and the impossibility of arraigning it before the bar -like a criminal, the student is getting the best that the study of the -oration can give him. - -Written work should be kept within the limits of the capability of -the individual pupil to think intelligently. Perhaps the best means -of enforcing upon a class the vigor of Burke's style at once and the -completeness of the oration as a whole is that of requiring from each -an expression, as clear and as exact as possible, of just what the -orator wished to effect, and an estimate, as critical as the pupil is -capable of making, of how the means employed were especially adapted -to carry out his purpose. Such work will be useless if the teacher -does the reasoning, but much may be elicited by skilful leading in -recitation, and after the scholars have done all that they can do, the -instructor may add his comment. - -After the "Speech on Conciliation" may reasonably come, if the required -list of readings is being followed, the "Sir Roger de Coverley Papers." -Here one deals with work more deliberately imaginative. Preparation -for taking up these essays should begin with a brief account of the -"Spectator" and of the circumstances under which they were written. The -less elaborate this is the better, so long as it serves the purpose of -giving the class some notion of the point of view; and indeed it is to -be doubted whether as a matter of fact any great harm would be done if -even this were omitted. What is needed is to interest the class in the -work, and facts about times and circumstances seldom effect much real -good in this study. - -The vocabulary will give little trouble. It is well to be sure that -the readers understand beforehand such words as may be rather remote -from daily speech. In the account of the club (March 2, 1710-11), -for instance, the list given out for test might include such terms -as these: baronet, country-dance, shire, humor, modes, Soho-square, -quarter-sessions, game-act. In the first paragraph, from which these -words are taken, are also two or three phrases which should be familiar -before the reading is undertaken: "never dressed afterward," "in -his merry humors," "rather beloved than esteemed," and "justice of -the quorum." The historical allusions, as represented by the names -Lord Rochester, Sir George Etherege, and Dawson, go also into this -preliminary study. - -The paper should be first read as a whole, with no other interruption -than may come in the form of questions from the class. The teacher -should make no effort at anything here but intelligent reading. Then -the paper may be given out for careful study; the form of this may be -varied at the pleasure of the teacher and the needs of the class. The -presentation of character is the point to be most strongly brought -out, and this must be done delicately but as completely as possible. -The "De Coverley Papers" necessarily seem to the modern youth extremely -remote from actual life as he knows it, and the majority of Institute -students with whom I have talked admit that they found Addison very -quiet, or, in their own phrase, "slow." The characters are accordingly -apt to appear to them dim and unreal; to be hardly more alive than the -figures on an ancient tapestry. This feeling cannot be wholly overcome, -especially in the limited time which is at the command of the teacher -of school literature, yet whatever vividness of impression a reader -of the essays gets is directly proportional to the extent to which -Sir Roger and his friends emerge from the land of shadows, and seem -to the boys and girls genuine flesh and blood. The chief care of the -instructor in dealing with these papers, the aim to which everything -else should be subordinated, is to encourage and to develop the sense -of reality. The little touches by which the personality of the old -knight is shown must be dwelt upon as each appears; and in the end a -summary of these may be made as a means of stating briefly but clearly -Sir Roger's character. Constantly, too, by means homely enough to -be clearly and easily intelligible to the class, must each of these -passages be connected with the personal experiences of the children. -In the essay generally headed "Sir Roger at Home," for instance, the -author remarks: - - Sir Roger, who is very well acquainted with my humor, lets me - rise and go to bed when I please; dine at his own table, or in - my chamber, as I think fit; sit still, and say nothing, without - bidding me be merry. - -The whole situation, that of a notable man's visit to a country -squire, is utterly foreign to the pupil's probable experience. He can, -however, be made to recall occasions in which he has been considered -and his wishes consulted. He may or may not as a guest have tested -different forms of hospitality, but he easily decides how under given -circumstances he would wish to be treated. From this he is without -difficulty led to an appreciation of the consideration with which Sir -Roger was intent not upon his own wishes or the ease of his household, -but upon the pleasure of his guest. Few boys or girls can have come to -the school age without understanding what a drawback to good spirits -it is to be told to be merry, and they can appreciate the common sense -of the knight in thinking of this, and his tact in not bothering his -guest. The same thoughtful kindness is shown in the way Sir Roger -protected his lion from sightseers. Incidentally the point may be made -in passing that Addison humorously took this means of impressing on the -reader of the "Spectator" the importance of the supposed writer. - -The best preparation a teacher can make for dealing with these -essays is to get clearly into his own mind the personality, the -characteristics, even the outward appearance of each of the characters -dealt with. It is impossible to make these quiet and delicately drawn -pictures real and alive unless we have for them a genuine love and a -sense of acquaintance; and I know of no method by which in practical -work this can be communicated except by the vivifying of such passages -as that quoted above. - -Each student should bring to the class a statement of what he regards -as the chief thought in each paper as it comes up,aEuro"not the moral of -the paper, but the chief end which the writer seems to have in view, -the thought which most strongly strikes the reader. These opinions -should be talked over in class, and from them one produced which at -least the majority of the class are willing to accept. No pupil, -however, should be discouraged from holding to his own original -proposition, or from adopting a view at variance with that of the -majority. - -Always if possible,aEuro"and personally I should make it possible, even at -the sacrifice of other things,aEuro"the paper should last of all be read -as a whole without interruption. The fact should always be kept before -the minds of the pupils that the essay is not a collection of detached -facts or thoughts, but that it is a whole, and that it can fairly be -received only in its entirety. - - * * * * * - -To stretch out illustrations of the teaching of particular books would -only be tedious, and I trust I have done enough to make evident what I -believe should be the spirit of work done in the "studying" of prose -in the secondary schools. The matter is of comparative simplicity as -contrasted with the handling of poetry; and I have therefore reserved -most of my space for the latter. No one knows better than I that any -formal method is fatal to real and vital work; and what I have written -has been largely inspired by a knowledge that many instructors are at a -loss to formulate any rational method at all, while others, I am forced -sorrowfully to add, seem never even to have perceived that any method -is possible. - - - - -XII - -THE STUDY OF THE NOVEL - - -Whatever may be the entrance requirements and whatever the prescribed -course in the way of fiction, I should begin the study of the novel -with a modern book. To hold the attention of the majority of modern -children long enough for them to form any adequate idea of the quality -and characteristics of any work of the length of an ordinary novel, -long enough for them to gain an idea which conceives of the work -as a whole and not as a collection of detached scenes and scraps, -is sufficiently difficult in any case. It should not be made more -difficult by selecting as a text a book requiring effort in the -understanding of vocabulary, point of view, setting, and the rest. -"Ivanhoe" is good in its place, but it is not adapted to use as first -aid to the untrained. It is probable that a class after sufficient -experience in fiction may be able to handle "Silas Marner," and it is -apparently fated by the powers that be that they must struggle with -"The Vicar of Wakefield;" but they certainly need preliminary practice -before they are set to grapple with those fictions so remote from -their daily lives. They should begin with something as near their own -world as possible; and "Treasure Island," the scene laid in the land -of boyhood's imaginings, is an excellent example of the sort of story -which may well be used to introduce them to the serious consideration -of this branch of literature. - -A little preliminary talk may well precede the actual reading. The -teacher should be sure that the class has a fair idea of what piracy -is,aEuro"a matter generally of little difficulty,aEuro"and of the social -conditions under which the tale begins. The actual geography of the -romance need not be considered much, although students lose nothing if -they are trained to the habit of knowing accurately the location of -such real places as are named in any story; but the imaginary geography -of the tale, the topography of the island, should be well mastered. -Beyond this, the teacher should have prepared a list of words to be -learned before any reading is done. This should include all those in -the first assignment that are likely to bother the child in the first -going over of the text. In the opening chapter, for instance, such -words as these: - - Buccaneer (title of Part I). - Capstan bars. - Connoisseur. - Dry Tortugas. - Spanish Main. - Hawker. - Assizes. - -In this chapter are a couple of allusions to the costume of the time, -but as they are intelligible only when taken as sentences they may be -left for the reading in class: - - One of the cocks of his hat having fallen down. - - The neat, bright doctor, with his powder as white as snow. - -When the class comes together the vocabulary is to be taken up as a -solid and distinct task, and after that is disposed of, the text may -follow. It is generally impossible to give the time to the reading -aloud of an entire novel; but I am inclined to believe that at least -the opening chapters, the portion of the story which must be most -deliberately considered if the young reader is to go on with the tale -in full possession of the atmosphere and the characters as they are -introduced, should always be thus taken up. The portions assigned -for each lesson must be brief at first, but may wisely increase as -the interest grows and familiarity with personages and situations is -enlarged. - -The first chapter, then, having been read aloud, the class may make a -list of the characters introduced: Squire Trelawney, Dr. Livesey, the -old pirate not yet named, the father, the "I" who is telling the story. -The seaman who brings the chest and the neighbors are obviously of no -permanent importance. - -Of these characters the class should give orally so much of an -impression as they have obtained from this chapter. This is simple with -the buccaneer, fairly easy in regard to Dr. Livesey and the inn-keeper, -but more difficult in the case of the boy. The paragraph beginning: - - How that personage haunted my dreams, I need scarcely tell youaEuro" - -and the opening sentence of the following paragraph: - - But though I was so terrified by the idea of the seafaring man - with one leg, I was far less afraid of the captain himself than - anybody else who knew himaEuro" - -give admirable material for class discussion. The first should appeal -to the children, who must be made to understand that to Jim Hawkins the -one-legged seafaring man was not a mere idea, but an actual personage -for whom he was set to watch, and of whom even the terrible old Billy -Bones was mortally afraid. The second at once illustrates how the -unknown was more frightful to the lad than the veritable flesh and -blood pirate; and it shows also by excellent contrast how terrifying -the buccaneer was to the frequenters of the inn. - -For the second chapter the vocabulary would for most classes include -such words as - - Cutlass. - Talons. - Chine. - Lancet. - -The expressions which should be made clear in class would include: - - Cleared the hilt of his cutlass. - Showed a wonderfully clean pair of heels. - Fouled the tap. - Stake my wig. - Open a vein. - -This chapter has a number of delicate touches which should be brought -to the notice of the class; such as the lump in the throat of Black -Dog while he waited for the pirate in moral terror; his clever excuse -for having the door left open apparently that he might be sure Jim was -not listening, but in reality that he might have a way of escape in -case of danger; the picture of the gallows in the tattooing. - -The characters of Billy Bones and Jim are added to in the chapter, -and that of the doctor made more clear. The touch by which the boy is -made to feel compassion for the pirate when Bones turns so ghastly at -the sight of Black Dog is one which should not be missed. The story, -too, begins to develop, and the youthful reader must be unusually -insensitive if he does not speculate upon the past of Bones and upon -the relation of the pirate with Black Dog. - -It is not necessary to go on with this sort of analysis, for the method -I am detailing must be essentially that of most teachers. If the points -mentioned seem to some over-minute, I can only say that since the -aim is to teach children how to handle fiction, the task of training -them to be intelligently careful in their reading is of the first -importance. There is no risk of making them finical or too minutely -observant. This is moreover the _study_ of a novel, and it should be -more careful than reading is supposed to be. It is morally certain -that any child will fall below the standard set, and it is therefore -necessary to have the standard as high as it can be without tiring or -confusing the children. - -When the book has been gone through in this way comes the important -question of dealing with it as a whole. It would hardly be wise to ask -children directly what they think of a book as a complete work; and yet -that is the thing at which the teacher wishes to arrive. The way has -been prepared by the study of character and the discussion of incident -throughout. In the end the subject of character as it is seen from the -beginning of the tale to the close may easily lead the way to making -up some estimate of the book as a unit. First, do the persons in the -romance act consistently; second, do the incidents follow along so that -they seem really to have happened. These questions will at first have a -tendency to bewilder young readers, who are likely to accept anything -in a romance as if it were true, and to have no judgment beyond the -matter whether the book does or does not interest them. It is not to -be expected that they will go very deep or be very broad in their -dealing with such points in the case of a first novel, but they can -make a beginning. They cannot in the book in question go far in what is -the natural third question concerning a book as a whole: Does it show -clearly and truly the development of character under the circumstances -of the story. Jim Hawkins is at the end of the book manifestly older -and more manly than at the start, as shown, for instance, by his -refusal to break his word to Silver when the doctor talks with him -over the stockade and urges him to come away with him. With the other -characters it is more the bringing out of traits already existing than -the developing of new ones. John Silver is of course by far the most -masterly figure in the bookaEuro"although the student should be allowed -to have his own idea in regard to this. Indeed, one of the ways in -which he judges and should judge a book as a whole is by deciding what -personage in it is, all things considered and the story taken all -through, most clearly and sharply defined. The class should be able to -see and to appreciate how the tale as it progresses brings to light one -phase after another of the amazing character of Silver, up to his pluck -at the moment when the treasure-seekers discover that the gold has been -taken away from the cache and to his humble attitude toward the Squire -when the cave of Ben Gunn is reached. - -Lastly, perhaps,aEuro"for I do not insist upon the order in which these -points should be taken up, but only give them in the sequence which to -me seems likely to be most natural and effective,aEuro"the class should -be brought to appreciate the construction of the book. This involves -obviously the way in which the author weaves together incidents so that -each shall have a part in the general scheme; but it also involves the -way in which he brings out the part that the individual traits and -character of the persons in the story had in leading up to the end. In -"Treasure Island," for instance, it is easy to show how one thing leads -to another, and how out of the chain no link could be taken without -breaking the continuity. This should not be impressed upon the class, -however, as a matter of invention on the part of the author. Children -know that the book is a fiction, but they prefer to ignore this. It is -not well to make the fact part of the instruction. The way to handle -this is to dwell upon the skill with which he has arranged particulars, -and passed in his narrative from one party to another so as to have -each incident clear. Pupils may be reminded of how easy it is to mix -the details of a story so as to confuse the hearer or the reader, and -thus may be made to appreciate to some degree the cleverness of the -workmanship which so distinguishes the work of Stevenson. - -More subtle in a way and yet not beyond the comprehension of the -school-boy is the part which character plays in shaping events and -moulding the story. The restlessness and the curiosity of Jim, from -the adventure of the apple-barrel to the saving of the ship, are -essentials in the tale; and equally the diabolical cleverness and -_unscrupulousness_ of Silver shape the events of the story from -beginning to end. - -One more illustration may be taken from the novel which is so generally -included in high-school English, Scott's "Ivanhoe." Here it is -necessary to prepare for the story by the acquirement of a certain -amount of history. It is perhaps as well to take the first five[159:1] -paragraphs of the opening chapter as a preliminary lesson, and to -treat it as history pure and simple. In preparation for this lesson the -following vocabulary should be mastered: - - Dragon of Wantley. - Wars of the Roses. - Vassalage. - Inferior gentry, or franklins. - Feudal. - The Conquest. - Duke William of Normandy. - Normans. - Anglo-Saxons. - Battle of Hastings. - Laws of the chase. - Chivalry. - Hinds. - Classical languages. - -A few other expressions, such as "petty kings," should be looked after -in the reading, lest the class get a false impression. The geography of -the river Don and of Doncaster may be passed over; but it is perhaps -better, especially in this historical preliminary, to require full -accuracy in this particular. To my thinking all this should be looked -up by the students, and never taken from notes appended to the text. - -The five paragraphs in which Scott gives the historic background -should be taken frankly as a piece of work out of which the class is -to make as clear a conception of the period of the tale as possible. -The pupils should use their common sense and their intelligence in -studying it, getting all out of it that they can get. Then it should -be read aloud in the class, and carefully gone over. The aim should be -to have understood as clearly as possible what were the political and -the social conditions of the time when the events of the romance are -represented as taking place. Such other historic personages as enter -into the story without being mentioned in this preliminary sketch -should be brought into this exposition. Thus when King Richard and -Prince John and Robin Hood the semi-historic come upon the stage the -student will be prepared for the effect which the novelist intended, -and will have, moreover, that pleasure which a young reader always -feels in finding himself equal to an occasion. - -This preliminary work being accomplished, the rest of the book will -probably have to be largely assigned for home reading. The opening -chapters, however, and the most striking scenes must certainly be read -aloud in class. A sufficient portion for a lesson will be assigned each -day. A list of words for that portion will be given out with it to be -learned first. No teacher will suppose, I fancy, that in every case a -student will master the vocabulary before he reads the selection, but -the principle is sound and the words would at least be all taken up in -class before any reading is done. Students should be told to read the -selection aloud at home, and should come to the class acquainted with -the meaning and significance of each passage, or prepared to ask about -them. - -At the beginning of the novel, when the reader is learning the -situation and the characters concerned, the assignments must be shorter -than in the latter part of the book, when these things are understood -and the current of the tale runs more swiftly. The remainder of the -first chapter, from the paragraph beginning "The sun was setting" is -quite enough for a first instalment. The following words make up the -preliminary vocabulary: - - Rites of druidical superstition. - Scrip. - Bandeau. - Harlequin. - Rational. - Quarter-staff. - Murrain. - EumA|us. - -The method of treating the fiction itself has been sufficiently -indicated in the previous illustration from "Treasure Island," but may -be briefly touched upon. In this chapter of "Ivanhoe" are introduced -two characters. Both are described at some length, but in the case of -both important touches here and there add to the impression. Gurth is -said at the beginning to be stern and sad, and in the talk the reasons -come out. - - "The mother of mischief confound the Ranger of the forest, that - cuts the foreclaws off our dogs, and makes them unfit for their - trade." - - "Little is left us but the air we breathe, and that appears - to have been reserved with much hesitation, solely for the - purpose of enabling us to endure the tasks they lay upon our - shoulders." - -We have a proof of his impulsiveness in the dangerous freedom with -which he speaks to Wamba, and of how daring this is we are made aware -when the jester says to him: - - "I know thou thinkest me a fool, or thou wouldst not be so - rash in putting thy head into my mouth. One word to Reginald - Front-de-BA"uf . . . thou wouldst waver on one of these trees - as a terror to all evil speakers against dignities." - -Of the superstition of Gurth we have proof by his fear at the mention -of the fairies. - - "Wilt thou talk of such things while a terrible storm of - thunder and lightning is raging within a few miles of us?" - -Here is a fairly satisfactory portrait of Gurth, although other traits -of character are developed as the book goes forward. At the end of -the novel the attention of the class may be directed to the skilful -way in which at the very start Scott has struck in the words of Gurth -the keynote of the oppression of the Normans and the hatred for them -in the hearts of the Saxons; but a point of this sort should not be -anticipated. It will tell for more if it is left until it has had its -full effect and its place as a part of the whole romance may be clearly -shown. - - * * * * * - -One last word I cannot bring myself to omit. I have said elsewhere that -I disbelieve in the drawing of morals, and at the risk of repetition I -wish to emphasize this in connection with fiction. The temptation here -is especially strong. It is so easy to draw a moral from any tale ever -written that two classes of teachers, those morally over-conscientious -and those ignorantly inept, are almost sure to insist that their -classes shall drag a moral lesson out of every story. The habit seems -to me thoroughly vicious. It is proper to make the character of the -persons in the novel as vivid as possible. The villain may be made -as hateful to God and to man as the testimony of the author will in -any way allow; but when that is done the children should be left to -draw their own morals. They should not even be allowed to know that -the teacher is aware that a moral may be drawn, and still less should -they be asked to discover one. If they draw a moral themselves or ask -questions about one, this is well, so long as they are sincere and -spontaneous. If they are left entirely to themselves in this they will -in a healthy natural fashion get from the story such moral instruction -as they are capable of profiting by, and they will not be put into that -antagonistic attitude which human nature inevitably takes when it is -preached to. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[159:1] Five in the original. Some school editions, for what reason I -do not know, omit paragraph five, which begins: "This state of things I -have thought it necessary to premise." - - - - -XIII - -THE STUDY OF "MACBETH" - - -How I conceive the study of poetry may be managed in school-work I have -already indicated somewhat fully, but one concrete example is often -worth a dozen abstract statements. In the literary work of almost every -high school is now included the study of at least one Shakespearean -play, and as "Macbeth" is so generally selected as the one to be first -taken up, I have chosen that as an illustration. - -The study of any play, as I have said, should begin with a requirement -that the class master the vocabulary. The pupils should be made to -understand that the need of doing this is precisely the same as the -need of learning common speech for the sake of comprehending the talk -of every-day life, or of mastering the vocabulary of French before -going to the theatre to hear a play in that language. The scholars -should be told frankly that this will not be particularly easy work, -but that it is to be taken in the same spirit that one learned the -multiplication-table. No harm can come of letting the class expect this -part of the work to be full harder than it really is, and at least it -is well to have students understand that they are expected to labor to -fit themselves for the enjoyment of literature. - -In this preparation the aim is to make it possible for the readers -to go on with the text without important interruptions. This purpose -determines what words and passages shall be taken up. Some difficulties -may safely and wisely be left for the second reading of the play, and -as it is well in these days not to expect too much of the industry -of youth, the teacher will do well to keep the list of words to be -mastered as short as may be. The whole play should be prepared for -before any of it is read, but I give only examples from the first act. -I should suggestaEuro"each teacher to vary the list at his pleasureaEuro"that -in the first act the following words should be dealt with. The numbers -of the lines are those of the Temple Edition. - -_Alarum._ This occurs in the stage-directions of scene ii. The class -will see at once that it differs from "alarm," and can be made to -appreciate how from the strong rolling of the _r_aEuro""alarr'm" came to -this form. That the latter form is now used in the sense of a warning -sound, and especially in the sense of a sound of trumpet or drum to -announce the coming of a military body or the escort of importance -affords a good example of the manner in which synonyms are established -in the language. A quotation or two may help to fix the word in mind: - - Our stern alarums changed to merry meetingsaEuro""Richard III," - _i_, 1. - - And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love?aEuro""Othello," - _ii_, 3. - - The dread alarum should make the earth quake to its - centre.aEuro"Hawthorne, "Old Manse." - -_Kerns and gallowglasses_, _ii_, 13. It may be enough to give simply -the fact that the first of these uncouth words means light-armed and -the second heavy-armed Irish troops. If the teacher likes, however, he -may add a brief mention of the passage from Barnabie Riche: - - The _Galloglas_ succeedeth the Horseman, and hee is commonly - armed with a skull,[167:1] a shirt of maile, and a _Galloglas_ - axe; his service in the field is neither good against horsemen, - nor able to endure an encounter of pikes, yet the Irish do - make great account of them. The _Kerne_ of Ireland are next in - request, the very drosse and scum of the countrey, a generation - of villaines not worthy to live: these be they that live by - robbing and spoiling the poor countreyman, that maketh him - many times to buy bread to give unto them, though he want - for himself and his poore children. These are they that are - ready to run out with every rebell, and these are the very - hags of hell, fit for nothing but for the gallows.aEuro"_New Irish - Prognostication._ - -_Thane_, _ii_, 45. This word may be made interesting by its close -connection with the Anglo-Saxon. _Thegan_ was originally a servant, -then technically the king's servant, and so an Anglo-Saxon nobleman and -one of the king's more immediate warriors. - -_Bellona_, _ii_, 54. The mythological allusion is of course easy to -handle. - -_Composition_, _ii_, 59. This I would include in the list chiefly to -emphasize how often a little common sense will solve what at first -sight seems a difficulty of language. "Craves composition" is so easily -connected with "composing difficulties" or any similar phrase that an -intelligent pupil can see the point if he is only alive to the force of -language. - -_Aroint_, _iii_, 6. It will interest most scholars to learn that this -wordaEuro"except for modern imitationsaEuro"is found only in Shakespeare, -and in him but twice, both times in the phrase "Aroint thee, witch" -(the second instance, "Lear," _iii_, 4). They will be at least amused -by the possibility of its being derived from a dialect word given -in the Cheshire proverb quoted by an old author named Ray in 1693, -and probably in use in the time of Shakespeare: "'Rynt you, witch,' -quoth Bessie Locket to her mother;" and in the speculation whether -the dramatist himself made the word. The curious derivation of the -term from rauntree or rantry, the old form of rowan, or mountain-ash, -is sure to appeal to children who have seen the rowan ripening its -red berries. The mountain-ash, or the "quicken," as it is called in -Ireland, is one of the most famous trees in Irish tradition, and is -sacred to the "Gentle People," the fairies. It was of old regarded as a -sure defence against witches, and the theory of some scholars is that -the original form of the exclamation given by Shakespeare was "I've a -rauntree, witch," "I've a rowan-tree, witch." All that it is necessary -for the reader to know is that the word is evidently a warning to the -witch to depart; but there can be no objection to introducing into -this preliminary study of the vocabulary matter which is likely to -arrest attention and to fix meanings in the mind. - -_Rump-fed ronyon_, _iii_, 6. It is hardly worth while to do more with -this than to have it understood that "ronyon" is a term of contempt, -meaning scabby or something of the sort, and that "rump-fed," while it -may refer to the fact that kidneys, rumps, and scraps were perquisites -of the cook or given to beggars, probably indicates nothing more than a -plump, over-fed woman. - -_Pent-house lid_, _iii_, 20. A pent-house is from the dictionary found -to be a sloping roof projecting from a wall over a door or window; and -from this to the comparison with the eyebrow is an easy step. That the -simile was common in the sixteenth century may be shown by numerous -quotations, as, for instance, the passage in Thomas Decker's "Gull's -Horne-book," 1609: - - The two eyes are the glasse windows, at which light disperses - itself into every roome, having goodlie pent-houses of hair to - overshadow them. - -In the second chapter of "Ivanhoe": - - Had there not lurked under the pent-house of his eye that sly - epicurean twinkle. - -And so on down to our own time, when Tennyson, in "Merlin and Vivian," -writes: - - He dragged his eyebrow bushes down, and made - A snowy pent-house for his hollow eyes. - -_Insane root_, _iii_, 84. In Plutarch's "Lives," which in the famous -translation of North was familiar to Shakespeare and from which he took -material for his plays, we are told that the soldiers of Anthony in the -Parthian war were forced by lack of provisions to "taste of roots that -were never eaten before; among which was one that killed them, and made -them out of their wits." Any intelligent student would be likely to -understand the force of this phrase from the context, but it is well to -speak of it beforehand to avoid distraction of the attention in reading. - -_Coign_, _vi_, 7. "Jutty," from our common use of the verb "to jut," -carries its own meaning, and the use of the word "coign" in this -passage is given in the "Century Dictionary." - -_Sewer_, _vii_, _stage-directions_. The derivation and the meaning are -also given in the "Century Dictionary," with illustrative quotations. - -So far for single words which would be likely to bother the ordinary -student in reading. The list might be extended by individual teachers -to fit individual cases, and such words included as choppy, _iii_, 44; -blasted, _iii_, 77; procreant, _vi_, 8; harbinger, _iv_, 45; flourish, -_iv_, _end_; martlet, _vi_, 4; God 'ield, _vi_, 13; trammel up, _vii_, -3; limbec, _vii_, 67. It is well, however, not to make the list longer -than is absolute necessary; and as the vocabulary of the whole play is -to be taken up, it is better to trust to the general intelligence of -the class as far as possible. - - -II - -These doubtful or obsolete words having been mastered by the class, -and the lines in which they occur used as illustrations of their use, -the next matter is to take up obscure passages. These may be blind -from unusual use of familiar words or from some other cause. Where -the difficulty is a matter of diction it is hardly worth while to -make further division into groups, and in the first act the following -passages may be given to the students to study out for themselves if -possible, or to have explained by the teacher if necessary: - - Say to the king _the knowledge of the broil_ - As thou did leave it.aEuro"_ii_, 6. - - * * * * * - - For brave MacbethaEuro"well he deserves that nameaEuro" - _Disdaining fortune_, with his brandished steel - Which smoked with _bloody execution_, - Like _valour's minion_ carved out his passage - Till he faced the slave; - Which ne'er shook hands, nor bid farewell to him, - Till he _unseam'd him from the nave to chaps_, - And fix'd his head upon our battlements.aEuro"_ii_, 16-23. - - * * * * * - - Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds, - Or _memorize another Golgotha_, - I cannot tell.aEuro"_ii_, 39-41. - - * * * * * - - Till that _Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof, - Confronted him with self-comparisons, - Point against point rebellious_, arm 'gainst arm, - Curbing his lavish spirit.aEuro"_ii_, 54-57. - - * * * * * - - He shall live a man _forbid_.aEuro"_iii_, 21. - - * * * * * - - The weird sisters, hand in hand, - _Posters_ of the sea and land.aEuro"_iii_, 32, 33. - - * * * * * - - Art not without ambition, but without - _The illness should attend it_.aEuro"_v_, 20-21. - - * * * * * - - All that impedes thee from the _golden round_ - That fate and _metaphysical aid_ doth seem - To have thee crowned withal.aEuro"_v_, 30-31. - - * * * * * - - To _beguile_ the time - Look like the time.aEuro"_vi_, 63. - - * * * * * - - aEuro"Those honors deep and broad wherewith - Your majesty loads our house: for those of old - And the late dignities heap'd up to them - We rest your _hermits_.aEuro"_vi_, 16-20. - - * * * * * - - This Duncan - Hath borne his _faculties_ so meek.aEuro"_vii_, 16-17. - - * * * * * - - What cannot you and I perform upon - The unguarded Duncan? what not put upon - His _spongy_ officers, who shall bear the guilt - Of our great _quell_.aEuro"_vii_, 69-72. - -This list again may be made longer or shorter, with the same proviso -as before, that it be not unnecessarily distended. Phrases like -"craves composition" and "insane root," which I have put into the -first section, may be grouped here if it seems better. I have not felt -it needful to indicate the way in which the meaning of these obscure -passages is to be brought out, for the method would be essentially the -same as that taken to interest the class in the vocabulary of detached -words. - - -III - -Passages possibly obscure from the thought may for the most part be -left for the later study of the play in detail. A few of them it is -well to take up for the simple purpose of training the student in -poetic language, and some need to be understood for the sake of the -first general effect. In the first act of "Macbeth" the passages which -it is actually necessary to examine are few, but the list may be made -long or short at the pleasure of the teacher. The following may serve -as examples: - - The merciless MacdonwaldaEuro" - Worthy to be a rebel, for to that - The multiplying villainies of nature - Do swarm upon him.aEuro"_ii_, 9-12. - - * * * * * - - As whence the sun 'gins his reflection - Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break, - So from that spring whence comfort seem'd to come - Discomfort swells.aEuro"_ii_, 25-28. - - * * * * * - - But thither in a sieve I'll sail, - And like a rat without a tail, - I'll do, I'll do and I'll do.aEuro"_iii_, 8-10. - -This passage is a good example of what may be passed over in the first -reading, yet which if understood adds greatly to the force of the -effect. If the scholar knows that according to the old superstition a -witch could take the form of an animal but could be identified by the -fact that the tail was wanting, the idea of the hag's flying through -the air on the wind to the tempest-tossed vessel bound for Aleppo, -and on it taking the form of a tailless rat to gnaw, and gnaw, and -gnaw till the ship springs a leak, is sure to appeal to the youthful -imagination. - - My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, - Shakes so my single state of man that function - Is smothered in surmise, and nothing is - But what is not.aEuro"_iii_, 139-142. - -This is one of those passages which is sure to puzzle the ordinary -school-boy, although a little help will enable him to understand it, -and to see how natural under the circumstances is the state of mind -which it paints. The murder is as yet only imagined (fantastical), -and yet the thought of it so shakes Macbeth's individual (single) -consciousness (state of man) that the ordinary functions of the mind -are lost in confused surmises of what may come as the consequences of -the deed; until to his excited fancy nothing seems real (is) but what -the dreadful surmise paints, although that does not yet exist. - - Your servants ever - Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs, in compt - To make their audit to your highness' pleasure, - Still to return your own.aEuro"_vi_, 25-28. - - * * * * * - - His two chamberlains - Will I with wine and wassail so convince, - That memory, the warder of the brain, - Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason - A limbec only.aEuro"_vii_, 63-67. - -The whole of Macbeth's soliloquy at the beginning of scene _vii_ is a -case in point. It may be taken up here, but to my thinking is better -treated after the class is familiar with the circumstances under which -it is spoken. - - -IV - -The taking up of especially striking passages beforehand may be omitted -altogether, although what I consider the possible advantages I have -already indicated.[175:1] Perhaps the better plan is to do this after -the first reading of the play, and before the second reading prepares -the way for detailed study. The sort of passage I have in mind is -indicated by the following examples: - - If you can look into the seeds of time, - And say which grain will grow and which will not.aEuro"_iii_, 58-59. - -The attention of the pupils may be called to the especial force and -fitness of the image. The impossibility of telling from the appearance -of a seed whether it will grow or what will spring from it makes very -striking this comparison of events to them, so unable are we to say -which of these "seeds of time" will produce important results and which -will show no more growth than a seed unsprouting. - - _Dun._ This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air - Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself - Unto our gentle senses. - - _Ban._ This guest of summer, - The temple-haunting martlet, does approve - By his loved mansionry that the heaven's breath - Smells wooingly here.aEuro"_vi_, 1-7. - -This is not only charming as poetry, but it is excellent as a help to -train the class to appreciative reading by attention to significant -details. "Nimbly,"aEuro"with a light, quick motion,aEuro"the air "recommends -itself,"aEuro"comes upon us in a way which makes us appreciate its -goodness,aEuro"unto our "gentle,"aEuro"delicate, capable of perceiving subtle -qualities,aEuro"senses. In the reply of Banquo the use of "guest," one -favored and invited, of "temple-haunting," conveying the idea of one -frequenting places consecrated and revered, of "loved mansionry," -dwellings which the eye loves to recognize, all help to strengthen the -impression, and to give the feeling to the mind which we might have -from watching the flight of the slim, glossy swallows flitting about -their nests. - -It is not necessary to multiply examples, since each teacher will -have his personal preferences for striking passages; and since many -will probably prefer to leave this whole matter to be taken up in the -reading. - - -V - -The first reading of a play, whether it come before or after the -mastering of the vocabulary, should be unbroken except by the pauses -necessary between consecutive recitations, and must above everything be -clear and intelligible. In all but the most exceptional circumstances -it should be done by the teacher, the class following the text in -books of their own. No teacher who cannot read well has any business -to attempt to teach literature at all, for reading aloud is the most -effective of all means to be used in the study. This does not mean that -the reading should be over-dramatic, and still less that it should be -what is popularly known as "elocutionary;" but it does mean that it -shall be agreeable, intelligent, and sympathetic. The teacher must -both understand and feel the work, and must be trained to convey both -comprehension and emotion through the voice. The pupils will from a -first reading get chiefly the plot, but they may also be unconsciously -prepared for the more important knowledge of character which is -naturally the next step in the process of studying the drama. - -As preparation for the first reading of "Macbeth" little is needed in -the way of general explanation. The discussion of the supernatural -element, of the responsibility of the characters, and of the central -thought of the play, may safely be left for later study. Young people -will respond to the direct story, and it is not unwise to let the -plot produce its full effect as simple narrative. It is well to state -beforehand how it comes that the kingship does not necessarily go by -immediate descent, and so to make it evident how Macbeth secured the -throne; it may be well also to comment briefly on the state of society -in which crime was more possible than now; but beyond this the play may -be left to tell its own tale. - -In this first reading the teacher will do well to indicate such points -of stage-setting as are not evident, and such stage "business" as is -necessary to the understanding of the scene. It is as well, however, -not to give too much stress to this. To follow the play of emotions -is with children instinctive, and this they will do without dwelling -on the details of the scene too closely in a material sense. At least -a very little aid will be sufficient at this stage. In a subsequent -reading these matters may be more fully brought out, although I am -convinced that even then it is easy to overdo the insisting upon aids -to visualization. - -What may be done and should not be omitted is the interspersion in -passing of comments so brief that they do not interrupt, yet which -throw light upon meanings which might otherwise be likely to pass -unnoticed. Nothing should be touched upon in this way which is so -complicated as to require more than a word or two to make it plain. -What I mean is illustrated by these examples: - - I come Graymalkin. - Paddock calls.aEuro"_i_, 9, 10. - -The voice in reading conveys the idea that the witches speak to -familiar spirits in the air, but it is well to state that fact -explicitly. - - What, can the devil speak true?aEuro"_iii_, 107. - -Banquo thinks instantly of the word of the witches, - - Glamis, and thane of Cawdor, etc.aEuro"_iii_, 111-119. - -In these lines and in 126-147, it is of so much importance that the -distinction between the asides and the direct speech be appreciated -that it may be well to call attention to the changes. - - Cousins, a word, I pray you.aEuro"_iii_, 126. - -Banquo draws the others aside, probably to tell them of the prediction -by the witches of the news they have brought, and this gives Macbeth a -moment by himself to think of the strangeness of it. - - Think upon what hath chanced.aEuro"_iii_, 153. - -This is said, of course, to Banquo. - - We will establish our estate upon - Our eldest son, Malcolm.aEuro"_iv_, 37. - -Here the conditions of succession already spoken of may be alluded -to, and the fact noted that if Macbeth had entertained any hopes of -succeeding Duncan legitimately, these were now dispelled. - - And when goes hence?aEuro"_v_, 60. - -The sinister suggestion of this may well be emphasized by calling -attention to it. - - By your leave, hostess.aEuro"_vi_, 31. - -With these words Duncan, who has taken the hand of Lady Macbeth, turns -to lead her in. - - -VI - -Once the play has been read as a whole the way has been prepared for -more careful attention to details. For each recitation the parts should -be assigned beforehand for oral reading, three or four pupils being -assigned to each part so that in a long scene opportunity is given for -bringing a number of the students to their feet.[180:1] It is well -to prepare for this second reading by selecting the central motive of -the play, and having the class discuss it. In the case of "Macbeth" it -is easy to select ambition as the main thread. In some plays a single -passion or emotion is not so easily detached, but it is generally -needful to remember that if children are to be impressed and are to -see things clearly, they must be dealt with simply; so that even at -the expense of slighting for the time being some of the strands it is -well to keep to the principle of naming one and holding to it with -straightforwardness until the work is tolerably familiar. - -The children should be made to sayaEuro"not to write, for contagion of -ideas is of the greatest importance hereaEuro"what they understand by -ambition, how far they have noticed it in others, and perhaps how far -felt it themselves. A wise teacher should have little difficulty in -making such a talk personal enough to enforce the idea without letting -it become too intimate. It can be brought out that the test of ambition -is the extent of the sacrifices one is willing to make to gratify -it. The ambition already spoken of to excel in class, to be at the -head of the school baseball nine or football team, to be popular with -friends, and so on for the common ambitions of life may seem trifling, -but it belongs to the language of the child's life. Here and there -the teacher finds pupils who might seize the conception of ambition -without starting so near the rudiments, but most need it; I am unable -to see how any can be hurt by it. It is much more difficult to get a -conception vividly into the minds of twenty pupils together than it is -to impress the same thing upon a hundred separately, and I should never -feel that I could afford to neglect the humblest means which might be -serviceable. The talk, moreover, does not stop here. It is to be led on -to what the boys and girls would wish to be in the world; and from this -to historic instances of what men have done to gratify their ambitions. -The assassination of the late King of Servia is still so recent as -to seem much more real than murders farther back in history, and it -lends itself well to the effort to make vital the tragedy that is -being studied. I am not for an instant urging that literature shall be -treated in too realistic a manner, as I hope to show before I conclude; -but I do not feel that there is any fear of making it too real to the -boys and girls with whom one must deal to-day in our schools. - -It is perhaps well, too, that some comment should be made at this stage -on the supernatural element. A class is likely to have had geometry by -the time it has come to the study of Shakespeare, and most children can -with very little difficulty be made to understand that in "Macbeth" -and "The Ancient Mariner" the existence of the supernatural is the -hypothesis upon which the work proceeds. When this is understood it is -not amiss to develop the idea that Shakespeare perhaps introduced the -witches as a way of showing how evil thoughts and desires spring up in -the heart. The class will easily see that the ideas of ambition, of -the possibility of gaining the crown, which little by little grew in -the heart of Macbeth can be better shown to an audience by putting the -words into the mouths of the witches than by means of soliloquies. This -giving of reasons why the dramatist does one thing or another should -not be pressed too far and should be touched upon with caution. It is -often better to let a detail go unremarked than to run the risk of -confusing the mind of the pupil. The witches, however, are almost sure -to be remarked upon, and they must be considered frankly. - -In this second reading such obscure passages as have been glided over -before are to be taken into consideration. If the pupils have, as -they should have, texts unencumbered with notes, they may be given a -scene or two at a time, and told to use their wits in elucidating the -difficulties. Often they show surprising intelligence in this line, -and the bestowal of praise where it is deserved is one of the most -effective as well as one of the pleasantest parts of the whole process. -What they cannot elucidate alone, they may be if possible helped to -work out in class, or, if this fails, may be told outright. If they -have tried to arrive at the true meaning, they are in a condition when -an explanation will have its best and fullest effect. - -Passages in the first act of "Macbeth" which I have thus far passed -over deliberately, to the end that the pupil be not bothered over too -many difficulties at once, are such as these: - - Fair is foul, and foul is fair,aEuro"_i_, 11. - - Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky - And fan our people cold.aEuro"_ii_, 49, 50. - - Nor would we deign him burial of his men - Till he disbursed, at Saint Colme's inch.aEuro"_ii_, 59, 60. - - Ten thousand dollars.aEuro"_ii_, 62. - -If, as is likely to be the case, the greater part or all of the class -have passed the word "dollars" without notice, that fact serves to -illustrate the need of care in reading. That they should pass it, -moreover, illustrates also how the anachronism might pass unnoticed -in Shakespeare's time, when historical accuracy was the last thing -about which a playwright bothered his head. The teacher may well here -refer back to the idea of considering literature as the algebra of the -emotions, and remind the class that as the poet was not endeavoring -to write history or to tell what happened in a concrete instance, but -only to represent the abstract principle of such a situation as that in -which Macbeth and his wife were involved, a departure from historical -accuracy is of no importance so long as it does not disturb the effect -on the mind of the audience or reader. - - No more that thane of Cawdor shall receive - Our bosom interest.aEuro"_ii_, 63, 64. - - I'll give thee a wind.aEuro"_iii_, 11. - -The supposed power of the witches to control the winds and the -superstitions of the sailors about buying favorable weather from them -may be taken up in the first reading; but it seems better to leave it -for the time when the effect of the play as a whole has been secured, -and the interruption will be less objectionable. - - His wonders and his praises do contend - Which should be thine or his: silenced with that.aEuro"_iii_, 63. - - That, trusted home.aEuro"_iii_, 120. - - Poor and single business.aEuro"_vi_, 16. - - Like the poor cat i' the adage.aEuro"_vii_, 45. - -It is not necessary to continue this list. Its length is decided by the -one fixed principle to which is no exception: it is too long the moment -the teacher fails to hold the interest of the class in the work which -is being done. No amount of information acquired or skill in passing -examinations can compensate for the harm done by associating the plays -of Shakespeare in the minds of the student with the idea of dulness or -boredom. - -Textual explanation, however, is of small importance as compared to an -intelligent grasp of the office and effect of each incident and each -scene in the development of the story and of the characters of the -actors in the tragedy. At the end of each scene, or for that matter -at any point which seems well to the instructor, the students should -in this second reading be called upon to comment orally on what has -been done in the play and what has been shown. I have much more faith -in the genuineness of what a boy says on his feet in the class room -than in what he may write at home. A teacher with the gentlest hint may -at once stop humbug and conventionality when it is spoken, but when -stock phrases, conventional opinions, views imperfectly remembered or -consciously borrowed from somebody's notes have been neatly copied out -in a theme, no amount of red ink corrects the evil that has been done. -The important thing is to get an appreciation, no matter how limited or -imperfect it may be, which is yet genuine and intelligent. - -With the matter of disputed readings, I may say in parenthesis, the -teacher in the secondary school has no more to do than to answer doubts -which may arise in the minds of the pupils. Personally I should offer -to the consideration of the class the conjectural reading of the line - - Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself.aEuro"_vii_, 27. - Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps its selle (saddle); - -because it seems to me so plausible and because it is likely to commend -itself. For the most part, however, I should let sleeping dogs lie, and -if nobody noticed the possible confusion of the text, I would not risk -confusion of mind by calling attention to it. - -The personal opinions of the class upon the actions and the acts of -the characters are not difficult to get at in this way, and often will -be the more fully shaped and more clearly thought out if the pupil is -constrained to defend an unpopular view. I am not introducing anything -new, for this sort of discussion is carried on by every intelligent -teacher; it is mentioned here only for the sake of completeness in the -process of treating a play in the class-room. - - -VII - -It may seem superfluous to some teachers to end the study as it began, -by a complete, uninterrupted reading of the whole. It is possible that -sometimes it would weary a class already weary of going over the same -ground; but if so the class has been on the wrong tack throughout. I -make the suggestion, however, in confidence that the effect will be -good, and that the students will enjoy this review. Whether the reading -is done by teacher or pupils depends somewhat upon circumstances; but -it should certainly be by the pupils if possible. - - -VIII - -I have carefully and intentionally omitted all mention of the study of -the sources of the plot, the probable date of the play, and things of -that sort which interest thorough Shakespearean scholars, and which -are the chosen subjects of pedantic formalists. Metrical effects and -subtilties are beyond any pupils I have ever encountered in secondary -schools. I do not believe that students in the secondary schools should -be troubled with any study of this sort. The teacher should of course -be prepared briefly to answer any questions of this nature which are -put, and to show the pupils where in books of reference information -may be found. The great principle is, however, to include in the study -nothing which does not enhance the impression of the play as a work of -imaginative literature, and to omit everything which can possibly be -spared without endangering this general effect. - -The danger of overshadowing literary study with irrelevant information -is great and constant. The amount of special knowledge which a child -must acquire to appreciate a play of Shakespeare's is unhappily large -in any case; and the constant aim of the teacher should be to reduce -this to a minimum. It is far better that a pupil go through the work -with imaginative delight and fail to get the exact meaning of half -the obscure passages than that he be bored and wearied by an exact -explanation of all of them at the expense of the inspiration of the -work as a whole. My painful doubts of the wisdom of our present scheme -of insisting upon the study of literature in the common schools arises -largely from the unhappy necessity of having so much explained and -the too common lack of courage to do a sufficient amount of judicious -ignoring of difficulties. - - -IX - -I cannot shirk entirely, as I should be glad to do, the question of -written work on the play we have been considering.[188:1] It is a -thousand pities that children must be required to write anything about -"Macbeth" when they have read it; but it is evident that under existing -conditions they will be required to produce something on paper. In -regard to this I must repeat that they should never be asked to write -as exercises in composition. Everything that a child writes is, in -one sense, a rhetorical exercise, but the teacher should impress it -upon the class that here the chief aim is to get an expression of the -child's thought. The more completely the children can be made to feel -that this is not a "composition," but a statement of impressions, of -personal tastes, and of opinions, the better. - -What subjects are suited for written work is a matter which must be -decided by each teacher according to the dispositions, the knowledge, -the aptitude shown by the scholars in a particular class. It will -inevitably be influenced largely by examination-papers; and in the -face of the lists of subjects provided by these it is idle to offer -any particular suggestions. In general the test of a subject, so far -as real benefit is concerned, is whether it is one upon which the -student may fairly be expected to be able to feel and to reason in -terms of his own experience. A subject is suited to his needs so long, -and so long only, as he is able to consider it as a matter which might -concern him personally. He may think crudely and he must of course -think inadequately; but he should at least think sincerely and without -regard to what somebody else has thought before him. He should be -original in the sense that he is putting down his own impressions, is -writing thoughts which have not been gathered from books, but have been -come at by considering the play in the light of whatever knowledge he -personally has of life and human nature. - -Much may depend, it is worth remarking, upon the way a subject for -theme-work is given out. Phrases count greatly in all human affairs, -but especially in the development of children. Adults are supposed -to understand words so readily as to be free from the danger of -receiving wrong impressions from phraseology which is unfamiliar; but -whether this be true or not, certain it is that the young are often -bewildered by words and queerly affected by turns of language. The same -theme-subject may be hopelessly incomprehensible or at least unhappily -remote when stated in one way, while in another wording it is entirely -possible. The first essential is to make clear beyond all possibility -of doubt what is required, and this is to be accomplished only by using -language which the student understands. The teacher must here as in -all instruction keep constantly in mind that language that is clear -and familiar to him may be nothing less than cryptic to the class. I -remember a lad in a country school who was hopelessly bewildered when -confronted with the subject given out by his teacher: "What Character -in this Book Appeals to You Most, and on what Grounds?" yet who wrote -easily enough a very respectable theme when I said: "She only wants -you to pick out the person in the book you like best, and tell why you -like him." "Oh, is that all?" he said at first incredulously. "But that -isn't saying anything about grounds." The incident, absurd as it is, is -really typical. - -I have usually found that the word "compare" will reduce most students -to mere memories, as they strive almost mechanically to reproduce -things set down in the notes of text-books. Nothing is more common than -subjects like "Compare the Characters of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth," -"Compare 'L'Allegro' and 'Il Penseroso,'" and so on. The result is -generally a statement of the criticisms of the characters or works -mentioned, a statement which is a poor rehash of notes, but has of real -comparison no trace. The comparison calls for analytical powers far -beyond anything pupils are likely to have developed; and when a boy -asked me not so very long ago what a teacher expected of him when he -had been required to compare Sir Roger de Coverley and Will Honeycomb -I was forced to reply that I was utterly unable even to conjecture. I -regard the frequent appearance of theme-subjects of this sort in the -secondary schools with mingled envy and wonder: envy for the teachers -who apparently possess the power to elicit satisfactory work on these -lines, and wonder that the power to do this work seems so completely -to disappear when the pupil leaves the secondary schools. - -To comment on the subjects which have actually stood upon entrance -examinations in the last half-dozen years would in the first place -be invidious, in the second would expose me to an unpleasant danger -of seeming to challenge attention to papers for which I have been -personally responsible, and in the third place would do no possible -good. A teacher with common sense can make the application of the -general principles I have stated if he choose; and he will at least -minimize the unfortunate necessity of making the written work a -preparation for examinations. - - -X - -Memorizing is perhaps best done in connection with the last reading -of the play, but that is a mere detail. Students should be encouraged -to commit to memory the finest passages, and should be given an -opportunity of repeating them in the class with as much intelligent -effectiveness as possible. They should not, of course, be encouraged -or allowed to rant or to "spout" Shakespeare; but the teacher should -insist that at least lines be recited so that the meaning is brought -out clearly, and he should encourage the speaker to give each passage -as if it were being spoken as the expression of a distinct personal -thought. - -. . . . . . . . . - -As I said at the beginning of this chapter, I have not endeavored to -provide a model, but merely for the sake of suggestiveness to offer an -illustration. This is at least one way in which the study of a play -may be taken up in the secondary school. Whether it is the best way -for a given case is another matter; and I must at the risk of tiresome -iteration add that here as everywhere the highest function of the -teacher is to discover what is the best possible method not for the -world in general, but for the particular class to be dealt with at the -moment. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[167:1] A metal covering for the head: a helmet. - -[175:1] Page 80. - -[180:1] Personally I would never have a pupil recite except on his feet. - -[188:1] See chapter xi. - - - - -XIV - -CRITICISM - - -What should be used in the way of tests of the knowledge of pupils is a -puzzling question for any teacher. Like any other pedagogically natural -and necessary inquiry, it can be answered only with a repetition of the -caution that no set of hard and fast rules will apply to all schools or -to all classes. Students themselves, however, would often be perplexed -if they were not given definite tasks to perform, definite questions to -answer, definite facts to memorize. In acquiring the vocabulary needed -for the reading of a play both teacher and pupil feel with satisfaction -that legitimate because tangible work is being done; and for either -it is hard to appreciate the fact that the essential thing in the -study of literature is too intangible to be tested or measured by -specific standards. In what I have called the inspirational treatment -of literature both are likely to feel as if a vacation is being taken -from real work, since the impression is general that the only method of -keeping within the limits of useful educational progress is dependent -upon the accomplishing of concrete tasks. - -The need of fitting students for examinations is generally allowed in -practice to answer the question what shall be done. I have already -said that I have personally little faith in the ultimate value of -much of the drill thus imposed, and it is hardly to be supposed that -any intelligent teacher could be satisfied to let matters rest here. -Certainly a pupil who graduates from the high school should have some -power of criticising intelligently any book which comes into his hands, -and of forming estimates of diction, general form, and to a less extent -even of style. His criticism is necessarily incomplete; but it should -be genuine and sound as far as it goes. Such a result is not dependent -upon the power of passing examinations, but is chiefly secured by -precisely that training in appreciation which is least formal and may -easily appear farthest from practice in criticism. - -Some actual and definite criticism, however, is legitimately a part of -the school-work; and concerning this certain things present themselves -to my mind as obvious. In the first place criticism is of no value, but -rather is harmful, if it fails to be genuine. From this follows the -deduction that no criticism can profitably be required until the child -is old enough to form an opinion, and that at no stage should comments -be asked which are beyond the child's intellectual development. In the -early stages criticism is necessarily genuine in proportion as it is -personal; and it must have become entirely easy and natural before it -can safely be made at all theoretic. - -In the early stages of the use of literature in education, as has -been said already, the aim is to help the child to enjoy, and to -understand so that enjoyment may be inevitable. This should normally be -done in the home, but since in a large number of cases in the common -schools the effects of home training in literature are so lamentably -wanting, the teacher must in most cases undertake to begin at the very -beginning. So far as criticism goes, the early stages are of course -merely the rudimentary likings or dislikings, and the encouragement -of expression of such tastes. Following this comes naturally the -putting into word of reasons for preferences. This must be done with -simplicity, in the homeliest and most unconventional manner, and above -all with no hint to the child that he is doing anything so large as to -"criticise." It is precisely at this stage that children are most in -danger of contracting the habit of repeating parrot-like the opinions -of their elders. All of us have to begin life by receiving the views of -adults, and we are allaEuro"except in the rare instances of extraordinary -geniuses, who need not be much considered hereaEuro"eager to conceal lack -of knowledge by glib repetitions of the ideas of others. To force young -pupils to give opinions when they have none of their own to give is to -repeat the mistake which Wordsworth notes in his "Lesson for Fathers." -The child in the poem unthinkingly declared that he preferred his new -home to the old. His father insists upon a reason, and the poor little -fellow, having none, is forced into the lie: - - "At Kilve there is no weathercock, - And that's the reason why." - -In the lower grades the thing which may well and wisely be done is to -accustom the children to literature and to literary language. If pupils -come to the upper grades and show that this has not been done, the -teacher still has it to do, just as he must teach them the alphabet or -the multiplication-table if they arrive without the knowledge of these -essentials to advanced work. This is the only safe foundation upon -which work may rest, and although to acquire it consumes the time which -should be put on more elaborate study, that study cannot be soundly -done until the rudimentary preparation is well mastered. Criticism must -be postponed until the pupil is prepared for it. - -Criticism, whenever it come, must begin simply, and it must be -connected with the actual life and experience of the child. We are -constantly endangering success in teaching by being unwilling to stop -at the limits of the possible. Boys and girls will be frank about what -they read if they are once really convinced that frankness is what is -expected and desired. They are constantly, if not always consciously, -on the watch for what the teacher wishes them to say. Whatever -encourages them to think for themselves and to state that thought -unaffectedly and freely is what is educationally valuable, and this -only. - -Opinions concerning characters in tales perhaps do as well as anything -for the beginning of criticism in classes. A teacher may say to a -pupil: "Suppose you had known Silas Marner, what would you have thought -of him?" The child is easily led to perceive the difference between -seeing or knowing such a man in real life, with its limited chances -of any knowledge of character, of the past history of the weaver, of -his secret thoughts, or of his feelings, and knowing him from the book -which gives all these details so fully. The question then becomes: -"Suppose you had in some way found out about him all that the novel -tells, what would you have felt?" The teacher will easily detect and -should with the gentlest firmness and the firmest gentleness suppress -any conventional answers. The young girl who with glib conventionality -declares that Silas was a noble character whom she pities because of -the way in which he was misunderstood may be questioned whether if -she had lived in Raveloe she would have seen more than the homely, -unsocial stranger, and whether, even had she known all that was -concealed under his homely life, she could have held out against his -general unpopularity. She is forced to think when she is asked whether -among those who live around her may not be men and women whose lives -are as pathetic and as misjudged as was that of the weaver. Children -have ideas about the personages in the stories they hear or read, and -it is only necessary to encourage, in each pupil according to his -temperament, first the formulating of these clearly and then the frank -stating of them. - -In all this sort of criticism one thing which should be sedulously -avoided is any appearance of drawing a moral. Deliberately to draw a -moral is almost inevitably to defeat any lesson which the tale might -enforce if it is left to make its own effect. The point to be aimed at -here is not to turn the story into a sermon, but to make it as close -to the individual life of the child as is possible. The difference is -in essence that between being told a thing and experiencing it. Once -this relation is established, the child feels an emotional share in the -matter such as can be created by no amount of sermonizing. It may be -doubted if any genuine child ever drew a moral spontaneously, and in -all this work spontaneity is the beginning of wisdom. - -After the pupil has come to have some notion, more or less clear -according to his own mental development, of what the personages in a -story or a play are like, he easily goes on to determine the relation -of one event to another, the interrelation between the separate parts -of the work. He should be able to tell in a general way at least what -influence one character has upon another, and of the responsibility of -each in the events of the narrative. - -These opinions should as much as possible be put into speech before -being written. The subject should be talked out, however, in a manner -so sincere and straightforward as to make conventionality impossible. -Students must be held rigorously to honest and simple expression of -real beliefs and feelings. In every class, and perhaps especially -among girls, are likely to be some who will surely repeat conventional -phrases. Children pick up set phrases with surprising ease, and will -offer them whenever they have reason to believe such counterfeit will -be received instead of real coin. These shams are easily recognized, -and they should be mercilessly dealt with, almost anything except -sarcasm, that weapon which is forbidden to the teacher, being -legitimate against such cant. The student who repeats a set phrase -is usually effectually disposed of by a request to explain, to make -clear, and to prove; so that the habit of meaningless repetition cannot -grow unless the teacher is insensitive to it. The genuine ideas of the -pupils may be developed and put into word in the class, and afterwards -the writing out will involve getting them into order and logical -sequence. - -It may be objected that by this process each scholar will borrow ideas -from what he hears said in the class. This is in reality no serious -drawback to the method. If the individuals are trained to think for -themselves, each will judge the views which are presented in class, and -will make them his own by shaping and modifying them. In any case the -danger of a student's getting too many ideas is not large, and those -he gets from his peers, his classmates, are much more likely to appeal -to him and to remain in his mind than any which he culls from books. -The notions will sometimes be crude, but they will be so corrected and -discussed in recitation that they cannot be essentially false. - -Any criticism which is received from pupils, whether spoken or written, -must first of all be intelligent. Sound common sense is the only safe -basis for any comment, and the higher the grade of a work of literature -imaginatively the more easy is it to treat it in a common-sense spirit. -Pupils should be made to feel not only that they have a right to any -opinion of their own on what they read, but that they are expected -to have one; and that this opinion may be of any nature whatever, -so long as they can justify it by sound reasons. Still farther than -this, they should be allowed freely to cherish tastes for which they -cannot give formal justificationaEuro"provided they can show a reasonable -appreciation of the real qualities of the work they like or dislike. -In the higher regions of imaginative work the power of analysis of the -most able critic may fail; and it is manifestly idle to expect from -school-children exhaustive criticism of high things which yet they may -feel deeply. - -Since it is of so much importance that all comment and criticism shall -be sincere, care must be taken to keep work within limits which make -sincerity possible. Students must not be required to perform tasks -which are in the nature of things impossible. To push beyond dealing -with comparatively simple matters in a frank and direct manner, is -inevitably to encourage the use of conventional phrases and to replace -sincerity with cant. - -A nice question connects itself with the determination of how much it -is proper and wise to require of children: it is how much farther it -is well to call upon them to criticise literature than we should ask -them to comment on life. We need to know what we are doing, and though -an examination of the character and motives of a criminal in a book -is not the same thing as would be this sort of criticism applied to a -flesh and blood neighbor, the two processes are the same in essence. -The better the teacher succeeds in arousing the imagination of the -pupil, moreover, the more closely the two approach. We should be sure -that we are doing well in requiring of the young, who would not and -should not be encouraged to dwell on actual crime and suffering, that -they produce original opinions upon these things as represented in -fiction. - -It is of course to be allowed that no teaching can make fictions vital -and real in exactly the same way as is that which is known actually to -have happened. An imaginative child vitalizes the story which touches -him, but does not bring it home to himself as he would occurrences -within the circle of his own experience. It may be urged that by -encouraging him to analyze sin in the comparatively remote world of -fancy we give him a chance to perceive its moral hatefulness without -that distrust of his fellows which might come if he were forced to -learn the lesson from the harsher happenings of life; and that in books -the knowledge of character and circumstance is so much fuller than it -is likely to be in experience that he is able to see more clearly. -The fact remains, however, that we should hardly expect or desire a -lucid and reasonable estimate of the late King and Queen of Servia -from the school-children who are being made to write laborious reams -on the motives and the character of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth; that we -should be shocked at finding boys and girls considering in real life -occurrences like the seduction of Olivia Primrose, or suspicions like -those Gareth entertained of Lynette. We certainly cannot afford to -be prurient, or to confine the young to goody-goody books. They may -generally be safely trusted, it seems to me, to read any tale or poem -of first-class merit, although its subject were as painful as that of -"A'dipus." They will receive it as they receive facts of life told -by a wholesome-minded person, often with very little real perception -of the darkest and most sinister side. It will be as it was with young -Copperfield when he read Fielding's masterpiece and took delight in -the hero, "a child's Tom Jones, a harmless creature." When it comes to -the discussion of motives, of character, of black events in fiction, -the case is different. The child is forced to take a new attitude; to -accumulate the opinions of his elders, to view life from their more -sophisticated point of view; and inevitably to receive a fresh, and not -always a desirable insight into evil. I am not inclined to dogmatize on -this point, and touch upon it chiefly for the sake of suggesting that -teachers may do well to keep it a little in mind. Each case, it seems -to me, must be decided upon its own merit, and I at least have no -arbitrary rules to lay down. Of one thing, however, I am sure, and that -is that whatever is taken up at all should be treated with absolute and -fearless frankness. - -All criticism of diction, style, or whatever belongs to literary -workmanship necessarily comes late. In the secondary schools I believe -very little can profitably be done in this line at all. Of this I -shall speak later in connection with the study of workmanship, but -here I may say that I suppose most teachers to recognize the obvious -absurdity of such questions about metres and metrical effects as are -given on page 43. That they should be gravely proposed in a book of -advice is indication that somebody believes in them; but any class -of students with which I have ever had to deal would be reduced to -mechanical repetition of cant conventionality by the bare sight of such -interrogations. - -One thing which is of importance is the need of encouraging pupils to -judge of any work as a whole. It is so much easier to deal with details -than with a complete work that constantly students leave schools where -the training is in many respects excellent, and have gained no ability -to go beyond the examination of particulars. The far more important -power of estimating a book or a play from its total effect has not been -cultivated. No teacher should forget that the ability to deal fairly -with a whole is of as much more value than any facility in minute -criticism as that whole is greater than any of its parts. - -This does not mean that a student can well summarize everything he -reads or that he may wisely attempt it. It does imply that at least his -attention shall have been directed over and over to the great fact that -the study of details is not the study of a masterpiece; that he shall -have been required to judge a book or a play, so far as he is able, as -a whole work and with reference to its entire effect. In talking with -undergraduates even about short works, pieces no longer than a single -essay of Steele or a simple lyric, I constantly find that they are apt -to have no conception whatever that they could or should do anything -but pick out minute details. I ask what it amounts to as a whole, how -it justifies itself, or what is its value as a complete poem or essay, -and they seem utterly unable to see what I am driving at. The painful -attempt to find out what I wish them to say so entirely occupies their -minds as to render them incapable of using whatever power of judgment -they may possess. Not long ago one boy said to me: "I didn't know it -made any difference what the poem was about if you could pick out -things in it." "What do you suppose it was written for?" I asked. A -look of painful bewilderment came into his face, and he answered that -he supposed some folks liked to write that way. I inquired whether he -would test a bridgeaEuro"he was an engineering studentaEuro"by picking out bits -without seeing how the parts held together and how strong it was as -a whole, and he returned with puzzled frankness: "But a bridge has a -use." "Very good," was what I assured him, "and so does a poem. Can't -you appreciate that mankind has not been keeping poems from generation -to generation without finding out if they really are useless? Any work -of literature that is really good must be of value as a whole, and -you have not got hold of it until you are able to see what it is for -as a single thing, a complete unit." The fact is so evident that it -seems almost absurd to mention it in a book intended for teachers, but -scores of boys come yearly from the fitting-schools who prove how often -the fact is ignored,aEuro"ignored, very likely, because it is taken for -granted, but no less ignored with seriously ill effects. - -In general, criticism in the secondary schools should have to do only -with the good points of work. Unless a pupil himself shows that he -perceives shortcomings in what is read, it is on the whole the place -of the instructor to keep the attention of the class fixed on merits, -while defects are ignored. This is not to be interpreted as meaning -that any weakness should ever be allowed to pass for a merit; or as -indicating that it is ever wise to shirk a difficulty. Any intelligent -pupil, for instance, should see for himself that the metaphors are -sadly and inexcusably mixed in the passage: - - Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer - The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, - Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, - And by opposing end them. - -It is necessary to meet this knowledge frankly, and to show him how it -is that Shakespeare can be so great in spite of faults like this. It is -the inclination of childhood to feel that a man must be perfect to be -great, but even at the cost of encountering the difficulty of such a -faith the truth must be told. In general, however, it is as well not to -go out of the way to enforce the doctrine of human fallibility, and the -youthful mind is best nourished by being fed on what is good, rather -than by being taught to perceive what is bad. - -When a pupil is asked to put into words the reason why a piece is -written, he should be required to answer by a complete sentence, a -properly phrased assertion. He is not unlikely to begin by giving -a single term, an incomplete and tentative phrase, or at best a -fragmentary statement. For the sake of the clearness of his own -idea and of the habit of accurate thinking, he should be encouraged -and expected to make the idea clear and the statement finished. -Student-criticism, as I have said perhaps often enough already, cannot -in the nature of things be either profound or exhaustive, but it should -be intelligent and well defined as far as it goes. - - - - -XV - -LITERARY WORKMANSHIP - - -The appreciation of literary workmanship dawns very slowly on the -child's mind. In the secondary schools not much can be accomplished -in the way of making students feel the niceties of literary art; -but something should be done to enforce the nature and the worth of -technique. Much that touches the undergraduate's feelings he cannot -analyze, and should never in any work of the secondary schools be -asked to criticise. He should, however, if he is to be systematically -trained in the study of masterpieces, have knowledge enough of the -qualities which distinguish them from lesser work to perceive on what -their claims to superiority are founded. Children so naturally and -so generally feel that distinctions which do not appeal to them are -arbitrary, and it is of so much importance to guard against any feeling -of this sort in the case of literature, that it is worth while to be -at some pains to make distinctions perceptible, even if they may not -always be made entirely clear. - -One of the tests of rank in civilization is appreciation of -workmanship. The savage knows nothing of mechanics beyond the power -of a lever in prying up a rock, the action of a bowstring, or crude -facts of this sort. A machine to him is not only incomprehensible, -but supernatural: a locomotive is a fire-devil, and a loom or a -printing-press, should he see one, a useful spirit. At the other end of -the scale of appreciation of mechanical appliances is the inventor who -devises or the trained engineer who understands the most complicated -engines of modern ingenuity. Somewhere between stands any one of -us,aEuro"the ordinary pupil presumably far above the savage, but far below -the expert. In the appreciation of the art of the painter, at the -bottom of the scale is the bushman who can look at the clever painting -of a man and not know what it represents, and at the top the great -painters of the world and those who can best enter into the spirit of -their productions. In this scale again each of us stands somewhere; the -average school-boy is unhappily likely to be so far down as to take -delight in the colored illustrations of the Sunday newspapers and to -be utterly indifferent to a Titian or a Rembrandt. In comprehension -of the value and effect of language, the same principle obtains. The -scale extends from the savage tribes with a vocabulary of but a few -hundred words for the entire speech of the race and no power of making -combinations beyond the simplest, to the cultivated nations with -perhaps a couple of hundred thousand words and the art of producing the -highest forms of prose and of poetry. The scale is a long one, and its -development has taken uncounted ages; but somewhere in the line each -individual has his place. The degree of the civilization of a race is -unerringly determined by its command of the written word; the mental -rank of the individual is no less certainly fixed by his power of using -and of comprehending human speech. - -This general truth is easily brought home to young people by reminding -them how they began their knowledge of language with the acquirement of -single words and went on to appreciate how much more may be expressed -by word-combinations. After the infantile "give" came in turn "p'ease -give" and "please give me a drink." From such stages each of them has -gone on learning. They have constantly increased their vocabulary, -their knowledge of the value of words, of word-arrangement, and of -sentence-construction. Gradually by practical experience they have -gained some appreciation of all those points which make up the sum of -instruction in classes in composition. They now need to be shown that -literary appreciation is the extension of this knowledge along the same -lines; that it is the means of advancing toward a higher place in that -scale which extends from the ignorant savage to the sages. They may in -this way be brought to a conception of literary technique as a matter -connected with the process of perception which they have been carrying -on from childhood. - -How value in all workmanship is to be judged by the effects produced is -admirably illustrated by machinery, but it is hardly less evident in -the case of language. The simpler forms of sentence come to be used by -the child in place of single disconnected words because with sentences -he can do more in the way of communicating his ideas and obtaining what -he desires. To illustrate more complicated forms of language we have -only to remind the child how carefully he orders his speech when he is -endeavoring to coax a favor from an unwilling friend or a reluctant -parent. The child feels himself clever just in proportion as he is -able so to frame his plea that it secures his end. He may be reminded -that he selects most carefully the terms which suggest such things and -ideas as favor his wish and avoids any that might hint at possible -objections. Out of these homely, universal experiences of childhood it -is possible to build up in the mind of the pupil a very fair notion of -the nature and the use of literary workmanship; a notion, moreover, -which is at once sound in principle and entirely adequate as a working -basis. - -Teaching consists principally in helping pupils to extend ideas -which they have received from daily life. In this matter of literary -workmanship, for instance, it means showing them that they have, -without being especially conscious of the fact, a responsiveness -to well-turned forms of speech and to skilful use of words. They -may perhaps be made to appreciate this with especial vividness by -having their attention called to the pleasure they take in clever or -apt sayings from their fellows or from joking speeches. This form -of illustration must, it is true, be used with discretion. It is -always difficult to lead the mind of a child from the concrete to -the general. Not a few childrenaEuro"and children, too, of considerable -intelligenceaEuro"are not unlikely, if jesting remarks are instanced, to -conclude that good literary workmanship means something amusing. With -due care, however, a class may be led to see how the same quality -of apt presentation in word which pleases them in the sayings of -schoolmates is what, carried farther, is the foundation of literary -technique. - -Concrete examples of thoughts so well expressed that they have come to -be almost part of common speech are abundant. The crisp, dry phrases of -Pope lend themselves admirably as illustration, they are so neat, so -compact, and, it may be added, so free from delicate sentiment which -might be blurred in the handling. - - Order is heaven's first law. - An honest man's the noblest work of God. - -The class can supply examples in most cases, and be pleased with itself -for being able to do so. The finer instances from greater writers may -be led up to, the epigrams of Emerson, the imaginative phrases of -Shakespeare; and so on to longer examples, with illustrations from the -rolling paragraphs of Macaulay, the panoplied prose of De Quincey, -and after that from lyrics and passages in blank verse. Thus much -may be done in the way of instruction in technique fairly early in -high-school work. With it or after it at a proper interval should -follow instruction in regard at least to the mechanical differences -between prose and poetry and what they mean. I have mentioned -earlier[212:1] the impression students often bring from the reading -of Macaulay's "Milton." The remarks there quoted are selected from -answers to a question of an entrance paper in regard to the difference -in form and in quality between prose and poetry. Others from the same -examination show yet more strikingly the general haziness of conception -in the minds of the candidates: - - In prose words are thrown together in a way to make good sense - and to form good English. Poetry is the grouping of words into - a metric [_sic_] system. - - Poetry is often written in rhyme, while prose is expressed in - sentences. - - Poetry is the name given to writing that is written in verse - form. One does not as a rule get the meaning of things when - they are written in verse form. - - Prose may be verse when dealt with by such an author as - Shakespeare or Milton, but prose usually consists of words - arranged in sentences and paragraphs without any special order. - - Poetry is used as a pastime, and as such is all right. - - Between good blank verse and prose there is not much difference - except in the form of wording in which it is put upon the page. - - For me, the difference between prose and poetry is this: Prose - does not rhyme and poetry does. Under such a definition, all - literature not poetry must be prose. Therefore Shakespeare's - works are prose. - -The illustrations might be much extended, but these will show the -confusion which existed in the minds of boys who had been painfully -drilled in the college entrance requirements. I have not selected -the examples for their absurdity, although in a melancholy way they -are droll enough; but I have meant them to illustrate the confusion -which existed in the minds of a large number of the candidates at that -particular examination of what makes the vital difference between prose -and poetry. It is not my contention that teachers in the secondary -schools are to go into minute details in regard to poetic form; but I -do believe that it is idle to talk about the rank of a writer as a poet -or of the beauty of Shakespeare's verse to students who do not know the -difference between verse and prose. - -I may be allowed to remark in passing that to my mind the influence of -the theories of Macaulay's "Milton" alluded to above illustrates the -difference in effect of that which appeals to the personal experience -and feelings of boys and that which they are forced to receive without -such inward interpretation. The boys who were trained in the "Milton" -were trained also in Carlyle's "Burns." The Carlyle, with its eloquent -appreciation of the office of the poet, the seer to whom has been given -"a gift of vision," had apparently left no trace upon their minds. They -had, however, been forced, too often unwilling, over numerous pages of -what they were assured was poetry of the highest quality, yet which to -them was unintelligible and wearisome. When Macaulay declared that -poetry was a relic of barbarism they seized upon the theory eagerly -because it justified their own feelings, because it coincided with -their own impressions; and thenceforth they doubtless held complacently -to their faith in the obsolete uselessness of verse, fortified by so -high an authority. - -In the whole body of papers in the examination from which I have been -quoting very few gave the impression that the writer had a clear -conception that somehow, even if he could not express it, a vital -difference exists between poetry and prose. The greater number of -the boys seemed to think that rhyme made the distinction, or that -distortion of sentences was the leading characteristic. Not one -teacher in a score had succeeded in impressing upon his pupils the -fundamental truth that the only excuse poetry can have for existing -is that it fulfils an office impossible for prose. Yet nothing which -can properly be called the study of poetry can be done until this -prime fact is recognized with entire clearness. Beyond the entirely -unanalytical enjoyment of verse, the native responsiveness to rhythm, -and the uncritical pleasure with which one learns to love literature -and to seek it as a means of pleasure, the first, the most primary, the -absolutely indispensable fact to be thoroughly impressed on a young -student is that poetry uses form as a part, and an essential part, of -its language. The boy must be made to understand that just as he tries -by his tone, by his manner, by his smile, to produce in his hearers -the mood in which he wishes them to receive what he has to say, so the -poet by his melody, by the form of his verse, by his ringing rhythms or -long, melting cadences, by his rhyme or his pauses, is endeavoring to -interpret the ideas he expresses as surely as he is by the statements -he makes. The truth which the teacher knows, that not infrequently the -metrical effect is really of more value and significance than the ideas -stated, is naturally for the most part too deep for the comprehension -of pupils at this stage. It would only confuse a class to go so far as -this; but if we are to "study" poetry, we must have at least a working -definition of what poetry is, and one which shall commend itself to the -children with whom we are working. - -As a mere suggestion which may be of practical use to some teachers, I -would call attention to what may be done by comparing certain pieces of -prose with the poems which have grown out of them. I know of nothing -better for this use than Tennyson's "Ballad of the Revenge" and the -prose version of Sir Walter Raleigh from which it is taken. In many -parts the language is almost identical,aEuro"but with the differences -between robust prose and a stirring lyric. The teacher who can make a -class see what the distinction is, what the ballad accomplishes that -Raleigh has not attempted, will have made clear by concrete example -what poetry does and why it is written. Another example is Byron's -"Destruction of Sennacherib" compared with the original version of the -incident as given in the Bible. - -It may seem to some teachers that I am going rather deep, but to such I -should simply propound the question what they understand by the study -of poetry. The natural error of the untrained mind is to regard the -intellectual content of a poem as its reason for being, and to foster -such an error as this is to make forever improbable if not impossible -any intelligent or genuine insight into poetry whatever. If we are -not to protect children against this mistake, fatal as it is to any -perception of the real province and nature of poetic art, what do we -expect to accomplish in all the extensive attention which is under the -present system devoted to the works of the masters? - -That so many boys failed to answer satisfactorily in this matter of -distinguishing between prose and poetry is of course not conclusive -evidence either of general ignorance or of conscious fault on the part -of instructors. Boys often fail in attempts to state distinctions -about which they are yet reasonably clear in their minds, and it may -well be that many who gave absurd replies would have no difficulty in -discriminating between verse and prose,aEuro"at least when verse fulfilled -the specification of the candidate who wrote: - - A jagged appearance is the main form-characteristic of blank - verse. Each sentence is a separate line, and every other - sentence is indented about a quarter of an inch. - -It would be interesting to present to pupils who have finished the -study of the college requirements half a dozen brief selections, some -prose and some poetry, but all printed in solid paragraphs. The number -of students who could accurately and confidently distinguish in every -case would be a not unfair test of the extent to which the distinction -is understood. - -Teachers probably fail to make this matter clear because they not -unnaturally assume that of course any intelligent lad in his teens -must know the distinction between prose and poetry. Natural as such an -assumption may be, however, it is oftenaEuro"indeed, I am tempted to say -generallyaEuro"wrong. The chief business of the modern teacher is after -all the instructing of pupils in things which they would naturally be -supposed to know already. It is certainly safer never to assume in -any grade that a student knows anything whatever until he has given -absolute proof. The weakest points in the education of the modern -student are certainly those which are continually taken for granted. - -One of the most serious obstacles in the way of bringing young people -to understand technical excellence and to appreciate literary value is -the difficulty of having school-work done with proper deliberation. It -is doubtful if any process in education can profitably be hurried; it -is certain that nothing of worth can be done in the study of literature -which is not conducted in a leisurely manner. The first care of an -instructor in this delicate and difficult branch must be to insure a -genial atmosphere: an atmosphere of tranquillity and of serenity. No -matter how tall a heap of prescribed books may block the way to the -end of the school year, each masterpiece that is dealt with should be -treated with deference and an amount of time proportioned not to its -number of pages but to the speed with which the class can assimilate -its worth and beauty. If worst comes to worst, I would have a teacher -say honestly to his pupils: "We have taken up almost all of the term -by treating what we have studied as literature instead of huddling -through it as a mechanical task. For the sake of examinations we are -forced to crowd the other books in. The process is not fair to them or -to you; so do not make the mistake of supposing that this is the proper -way of treating real books." Children who have been properly trained -will understand the situation and will appreciate the justice of the -proposition. - -In this connection is of interest the remark of an undergraduate -who said that he obtained his first impression of style and of the -effectiveness of words from translating. "I suppose the truth is," -he explained with intelligence, "that in English I never read slowly -enough to get anything more than the story or what was said. When I was -grubbing things out line by line and word by word I at last got an idea -of what my teachers had meant when they talked about the effect of the -choice of words." Many of us can look back to the days when we learned -grammar from Latin rather than from English, although we had been over -much the same thing in our own tongue. In the foreign language we had -to go deliberately and we had to apply the principles we learned. Only -when the student is treating literature so slowly and thoroughly that -these conditions are reproduced does he come to any comprehension of -style or indeed of the real value of literature. - -Readers of all ages naturally and normally read anything the first -time for the intellectual content: for the story, for the information, -for that meaning, in short, which is the appeal to the intellectual -comprehension. The great majority are entirely satisfied to go no -farther. They do not, indeed, perceive the reason for going farther; -and they are too often left in ignorance of the fact that they have -entirely missed the qualities which entitle what they have read to be -considered literature in the higher sense. - -In this they are often encouraged, moreover, by the unhappy practice -of making paraphrases. The paraphrasing of masterpieces is to me -nothing less than a sacrilege. It degrades the work of art in the mind -of the child, and contradicts the fundamental principle that poetry -exists solely because it expresses what cannot be adequately said in -any other way. A paraphrase bears the same relation to a lyric, for -instance, that a drop of soapy water does to the iridescent bubble -of which it was once the film. The old cry against the selection of -passages from Milton for exercises in parsing should be repeated with -triple force against the use of literature as material for children to -translate from the words of the poet into their own feeble phraseology. -The parsing was by far the lesser evil. It is often necessary to have -an oral explanation of difficult passages; but this should be always -expressly presented as simply a means to help the child to get at -the real significance of a lyric, a sort of ladder to climb by. Any -paraphrasing and explaining should be carefully held to its place as an -inadequate and unfortunate necessity. The class should never be allowed -to think that any paraphrase really represents a poet, or that it is to -be regarded in any light but that of apologetic tolerance. - -In this matter of workmanship, as everywhere else in the process of -dealing with literature, much depends upon the character of the class. -Much must always be left unaccomplished, and much is always wisely -left even unattempted. Often the teacher must go farther in individual -cases than would naturally have been the case in a given grade -because questions will be asked which lead on. It is often necessary, -for instance, to explain that the crowding forward of events made -unavoidable by stage conditions is not a violation of truth, but a -conforming to the truth of art. A lad will object that things could not -move forward so rapidly, and it is then wise to show him that dramatic -truth does not include faithfulness to time, but may condense the -events of days into an hour so long as it is true to human nature and -to the effects those events would have had if occurring at intervals -however great. Again children will object in a tale that the incidents -are not likely to have happened; and it is then necessary to make clear -the distinction between probability and possibility, and how fiction -may deal with either. These matters, however, are to be left to the -intelligence of the individual instructor. If he cannot manage them -wisely without advice, he cannot do it with arbitrary rules. - -For a last word on the matter of training students in the appreciation -of literary form and workmanship I should offer a warning against -attempting too much. Something is certainly unavoidable, but of -minutiA| it is well to exercise what Burke calls "a wise and salutary -neglect." Literary language must be learned or all intelligent work is -utterly impossible; since form is an important element in all artistic -language, it is not possible to ignore this. The extent to which work -can and should go in the study of form in a given class is one of the -matters which the instructor has to decide; and when he has decided it -he must resolutely refuse to allow himself to be unhappy because in the -great realm of literature are so many noble tracts of which he has not -even hinted to his class the existence. If he has done the lesser work -well he has at least put his students in a condition to do the greater -for themselves; if he had attempted more he might have accomplished -nothing. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[212:1] Page 36. - - - - -XVI - -LITERARY BIOGRAPHY - - -How far the biography of authors shall be a part of the school-work is -a question which deserves attention. I began these talks by calling -attention to the fact that it is so much easier to teach details -about the life of a writer than it is to train the youthful mind to a -true appreciation of literature itself. Teachers naturally and almost -unconsciously fall into the habit of over-emphasizing this division of -the history of literature, and questions about the lives of authors are -dangerously easy to formulate for recitation or for examination-paper. -Nothing, however, should be allowed to obscure the idea that the work -and not the worker is the thing with which study should be concerned; -and everybody would agree that in theory the limit to biographical -inquiry in secondary-school study is the extent to which a knowledge of -an author's career or personality aids to the understanding of what he -has written. - -To say this, however, is much like restating the question. Like a good -deal that passes for argument, it only puts the problem in other words; -for we are at once confronted with the doubt how far a pupil in the -secondary school is likely to be helped by knowing about the facts of -a writer's life. At the beginning of the "Spectator" Addison remarks: - - I have observed that a reader seldom peruses a book with - pleasure, till he knows whether the writer of it be a black - or a fair man, of a mild or choleric disposition, married or - a bachelor, with other particulars of the like nature, that - conduce very much to the right understanding of an author. - -I may frankly confess that this is so entirely untrue of myself that -I am perhaps not a fair judge for others. Since it is to me a matter -almost of indifference who wrote a book, where or when he lived, what -he was and what he did, I have not perhaps estimated rightly the -effect of biography on children. I am firm in my belief, however, that -for making literature more clear, more vivid, more attractive, the -effect of a knowledge of the author's life is with children apt to be -practically nothing. If they are interested in a book, they may on that -account like to know something of the man who wrote it, but I have yet -to find a student who really cared for a piece of literature because he -had been made to learn facts about the author. That a book was written -in a given age will account to him for fashions of thought strange -to-day, but he is seldom able to carry such analysis beyond the most -general idea. - -In regard to helping scholars in the secondary schools to understand -a given piece of literature by instructing them about the personality -of the writer, I am quite as skeptical. It may be that one lad in a -hundred may come to a better appreciation of a book from what he knows -of the temperament of the author. It is possible to point this out in -occasional striking instances. If a boy read "A Modest Proposal," a -teacher naturally calls attention to the character of Swift as having -determined the ferocious form which this plea for humanity has taken; -in dealing with "The Journal of the Plague Year" it is inevitable that -the instructor speak of the journalistic tendency of Defoe, which led -him to write on topics which were at the moment before the public. In -either case the result is not important in the sense of going much -beyond what the student may be made to feel without any mention of the -writer or the writer's peculiarities. - -It is very easy to delude ourselves into feeling that we are being -helpful when in reality we are simply being pedagogic. If our pupils -were so far advanced as to be able to perceive the subtle relations -between character and literature, between the nature of a writer and -the interpretation we are to put upon what he has written, they would -in most cases be better fitted to instruct us than to receive any -instruction we are able to furnish. It is sometimes well to give pupils -things which we are aware they cannot grasp; to show them the existence -of lines of thought which they are not yet qualified to carry out. -Our aim in this is to broaden their perceptions, and to direct them -toward truths which later they may investigate for themselves. In the -secondary schools, however, very little of this sort can be profitably -done in connection with anything so complex and subtle as the relation -of the character of an author to his work. Young people must take -literature at its face value, so to say, and in teaching them to do -this is more than room for all the energies a teacher in these grades -can bring to bear. - -The history of literature, its development, its relations to the -evolution of human thought, should all be as far as possible familiar -to the teacher; and no instructor with knowledge and enthusiasm is -likely to ignore any of these in dealing with masterpieces. They must -all, however, be brought forward with care, for it is easy to overwhelm -the mind of the young, especially in an age like the present when a -child goes to school with attention already strained by the imperative -and insistent calls of daily life. Students on leaving the high school -should be familiar with the place in the centuries of authors they have -especially studied, and of the score or so of writers most important -in English literature from Chaucer down. With the exact details of -biography they need not have been concerned. If they have had curiosity -enough to look these up as a matter of individual interest, it is -well, although I am not sure that anything is gained by encouraging -this research. To know of Shakespeare, of Chaucer, and of Milton, for -instance, what may be put into a dozen lines; and of lesser writers to -have proportionate information, seems to me ample. The work and not the -worker is of importance; the book and not the author; the poem and not -the poet. - -Many teachers will not agree with me in giving to the personality and -the biographies of writers so small a place. Every man must judge by -his own experience, and I can only say that every year I deal with -classes in literature I find myself deliberately giving less attention -to the history of literature. I have insisted already upon the danger -that such study shall take the place of the consideration of literature -itself, and I have now attempted to reA"nforce that thought by stating -definitely what it seems to me wise to attempt in the secondary -schools. I do not desire to be dogmatic, however, and here as elsewhere -the conclusion of the whole matter is that while the question of the -wisdom of giving extended instruction in literary history or biography -is to be carefully considered, each instructor must frame the answer -according to personal experience and the individual needs of any given -class. - - - - -XVII - -VOLUNTARY READING - - -No teacher who is really concerned with the development of the pupil's -mind can afford to ignore outside influences. Indeed, even were a -teacher conceivable who, consciously or unconsciously, cared only to -drag scholars over the prescribed course, he would yet be forced to -take into account the effect of every-day life and circumstance, and -under existing conditions every teacher is sure to find that he is to -a great extent obliged to do the work of the home in all that relates -to the A|sthetic training of a large number of children. In teaching -literature it is not only wise but it is easy to discover and to a -large extent to influence whatever reading pupils do of their own will -outside of the required work. - -Thoroughly to accomplish all that a teacher desires, or even all that -is often expected of him, would be possible only to the gods; and it -is evident enough that no instructor can exercise complete parental -supervision over all the life of the pupils under him. Certain things -in the training of the young are accomplished at home or go forever -undone. Perhaps the most serious difficulty in this whole complicated -business of education is that the schoolmaster is so largely called -upon to undo what is done outside the schoolroom. He may at least be -thankful that in the matter of reading he is dealing with something -tangible, something in which so many of his flock may with skilful -management be influenced. - -In a leaflet published under the auspices of the New England -Association of Teachers of English, "The Voluntary Reading of High -School Scholars," Professor W. C. Bronson, of Brown University, -comments on the fact that the mind of the young person is likely to -perceive little relation between the literature administered at school -and the books voluntarily read outside. He says: - - Many of our high-school youth are leading a double life in - things literary: in the class-room Doctor Jekyll studies the - lofty idealism of "Comus" or "Paradise Lost;" outside, Mr. - Hyde revels in the yellow journalism and the flashy novel; and - in many cases Doctor Jekyll does not even realize that he has - changed into another and lower being. - -The difficulty in making boys and girls realize a connection between -school-work and actual life is familiar to every teacher. I am -personally convinced that one reason for thisaEuro"although obviously not -the only oneaEuro"is the modern tendency to diminish the sense of value and -necessity by too much yielding to the inclination of the child. Coaxing -along the line of the least resistance is sure to produce an effective -even if hardly conscious indifference, which is far less healthy than -the temper of mind bred by insistence upon progress along the line -of duty. Be that as it may, however, the modern scholar generally -regards school as one thing and life as practically another. Books read -in the class-room, books studied, discussed as a part of formal and -required work, are felt to be remote from daily existence and almost as -something a bit unreal. They may be even enjoyed, and yet seem to the -illogical youthful mind as having a certain adult quality which sets -them apart from any vital connection with the life of youth. It is not -uncommon, I believe, for a boy to like a book in his private capacity, -reading it for simple and unaffected pleasure, and yet to feel it -almost a duty to be bored by the same book when it comes up as a part -of the work of the school-room. - -Very likely a hint of the explanation of the whole matter is to be -found in this last fact. In the first place the work of the schoolroom, -however gently administered, represents compulsion, and we have -trained the rising generation to feel that compulsion is a thing to -be abhorred. Perhaps nothing could ever make school-work the same -as the life which is voluntary and spontaneous; but modern methods -have generally not succeeded in minimizing this difficulty. In the -second place, teachers are too often uncareful or unable to soften the -differences between reading without responsibility of thoroughness -and reading with the consciousness that class-room questionings may -lie beyond. Almost any child has the power of treating a book or a -poem as a friend when he reads for pleasure and of regarding the same -book as an enemy when it becomes a lesson. The thing is normal and not -unhealthy; but it is to be reckoned with and counteracted. - -Professor Bronson, in his brief discussion of the matter, goes on to -remark that where the Jekyll and Hyde attitude of mind existsaEuro"which to -some degree, I believe, would be in every pupilaEuro" - - The first task of the teacher is to make the pupil fully - realize it and to urge upon him the necessity of discrimination - in his voluntary reading. For this purpose ridicule of trashy - books by name and praise of good books, with reasons why they - are good, may well fill the part of a recitation period, now - and then, even though the routine work suffer a little. For the - same purpose, it is very desirable that more of the best modern - literature be made a part of the English course, especially - in the earlier years, when the pupil's taste is forming, for - it is easier to bring such works into close relation with his - voluntary reading. The teacher of English may also consider - himself recreant if he does not give his class advice about - the reading of magazines and instructions how to read the - newspapers. - -With the spirit of this I agree entirely. The letter does not seem -to me entirely satisfactory. I have learned to be a little afraid -of ridicule as a means of affecting the minds of the young in any -direction. It is the easiest of methods, but no less is it the one -which requires the most prudence and delicacy. It is the one which is -most surely open to the error of the point of view. If the teacher -tries to lessen the inclination of pupils for specific books by -ridicule, he can do no good unless he is able to make the class feel -that these books are ridiculous not only according to the standards of -the teacher but according to the standard of the child. To prove that -from the instructor's point of view a book is poor and silly amounts -to little if the work really appeals to the young. No more is effected -than would be accomplished if the teacher told lusty lads that to him -playing ball seemed a foolish form of amusement. They appreciate at -once that he is speaking from a point of view which is not theirs and -which they have no wish to share. He must be able to make it evident -that the book in question, with its attractions, which he must frankly -acknowledge, is poor when judged by standards which the pupils feel to -be true and which belong to the sphere of boyhood. - -I confess with contrition that in my zeal for good literature I have in -earlier days spoken contemptuously of popular and trashy books which -I had reason to think my boys probably enjoyed and admired. I believe -I was wrong. Now I do not hesitate to say what I think about any book -when a student asks me, but I make it a rule never in class to attack -specific books or authors for anything but viciousness, and that -question is hardly likely to arise in the secondary schools. I cannot -afford to run the risk of alienating the sympathies of my pupils, -and of arousing a feeling that my point of view is so far removed -from theirs that they cannot trust my opinions to be sympathetic. -The normal attitude of the child toward the adult is likely enough -to be that of believing "grown-ups" to be so far from understanding -what children really care for as to be entirely untrustworthy in the -selection of reading. The child disregards or distrusts the judgments -of his elders not on abstract grounds, but merely from an instinctive -feeling that adults do not look at things from his point of view. I -always fear lest by an unwise condemnation of a book which a lad has -enjoyed I may be strengthening this perfectly natural and inevitably -stubborn conviction. - -The first and most important means of influencing outside reading -is by impressing upon the child's mind the idea that he is studying -literature chiefly for the sake of reading to himself and for himself. -About this should be no doubt or uncertainty. No child should for -a moment be allowed to suppose that such dealing with books as is -possible in the school-room can be chiefly for its own sake, can be -so much an end as a means. To allow him to suppose that the few works -he goes over can be held adequately to represent the great literary -treasures of the race, or that he can be supposed to do more than to -learn how to deal with literature for himself, is at once to make -instruction in this branch more an injury than a benefit. It would -be no more reasonable than to allow him to think that he learns the -multiplication-table for the sake of his school "sums" rather than -that he may have an effective tool to help him in the practical affairs -of life. - -To influence outside work of any sort is difficult, especially in -city schools where the pupils are subject to so many distractions. -The teacher is generally obliged to make his effort in this direction -almost entirely individual, treating no two scholars exactly in the -same way, and he is not infrequently obliged to employ a considerable -amount of shrewdness in the process. "When I wish to talk to John Smith -about his reading," a clever teacher said in my hearing, "I send to him -to see me about his spelling, or his handwriting, or anything to give -an excuse for a chat. Then I bring in the thing I am aiming at as if by -accident." The number of instructors possessed of the adroitness, the -time, and the patience for this sort of finesse is probably not large; -but much may be done by words dropped apparently by chance, if only the -instructor has the matter earnestly at heart. - -How far the relation of books in the required reading to books read -voluntarily may profitably be insisted upon in class must depend -largely upon the particular pupils involved. Every teacher will -certainly do well to find out what his students are reading outside, -if they are reading anything, and he should then consider what use to -make of his knowledge. The very fact that he concerns himself about -the matter will call the attention of the class to the fact that a -connection exists; and that it is real enough to be worth heeding. -Any wise teacher will find an advantage in having indications of the -natural tastes and inclinations of those he is trying to train, and to -know what the boys and girls really like to read will often correct a -tendency to speak of the required readings in a tone that is outside -the range of the sympathies of the scholars. If he knows that the girls -are fond of weeping over "The Broken Heart of the Barmaid," that the -boys revel in "The Bloody Boot-jack," that both find "Mrs. Pigs of the -Potato-patch" exquisitely amusing, he sees at once that he must be -cautious in dwelling on the pathos of "Evangeline," the romance of "The -Flight of a Tartar Tribe," or the humor of Charles Lamb. Children fed -on intellectual viands so coarse would find real literature insipid, -and must be trained with frank acceptance of that fact. - -To say that teachers may also often do something in the way of arousing -parents to do their part in guiding the reading of children is to go -somewhat outside of my field. The public asks so much of teachers -already that any hint of labor in the homes of pupils seemsaEuro"and -in many cases would beaEuro"nothing less than the suggestion of an -impossibility. If I were to urge the matter, I should do it purely on -the ground that teachers may sometimes greatly lessen the difficulty -of the task they undertake in the school-room by a little judicious -labor in the home. In the public schools to-day many children, perhaps -even a majority, come from homes wherein no literary standard is -apparent, and where for the most part none exists. They are being given -a training which their parents did not have, and they feel themselves -better able to direct their elders in things intellectual than their -fathers and mothers are to advise them. In these cases, certainly very -numerous, the teacher must accept the inevitable, and do what he can by -inducing his pupils to talk with him about their outside reading. Where -parents are more cultivated, much may often be effected by the simple -request or suggestion that the young folk be supervised a little in the -choice of books. The teacher must of course use tact in doing anything -in this line, especially in those cases where such a request is most -needed. Parents who pay least attention to such matters are especially -likely to resent interference with their prerogative of neglecting -their children, though they may generally be reached by the flattery -of a carefully phrased request for coA¶peration. Few things are more -delicate to handle than neglected duties, and the fathers and mothers -who shirk all responsibility for the mental training of their offspring -must be approached as if they jealously tried to leave nothing in this -line for any teacher to do. - -The most common fault of young people to-day in connection with reading -is the neglect of books altogether or the devouring of fiction of a -poor quality. To urge boys and girls to read good books or to admonish -them to avoid poor ones is seldom likely to effect much. Such direct -and general appeal is sure to seem to them part of the teacher's -professional routine work, and not to alter their inclinations or to -make any especial difference with their practice. Children are led -to care for good reading only by being made acquainted with books -that appeal to them; and they are protected against poor or injurious -reading only by being given a taste for what is better. - -This summing-up of the situation is easily made, but how to make -children acquainted in a vital and pleasant fashion with good books and -how to cultivate the taste is really the whole problem which we are -studying. This is the aim and the substance of all genuine teaching -of literature, and everything in these talks is an attempt to help -toward an answer. When the problem of voluntary reading has been -satisfactorily solved the work of the teacher is practically done, -for the pupil is sure to go forward in the right direction whether he -is led or not. All that treatment of literature which for convenience -I have called "inspirational" is directly in the line of developing -and raising the taste of young readers, and beyond this I do not see -that specific rules can be given. Personal influence is after all -what tells, and the most that can be done here is to call attention -to the fact that in so far as a teacher can influence and direct the -voluntary reading of a pupil he has secured a most efficient aid to his -school-work in literature. - - - - -XVIII - -IN GENERAL - - -Throughout these talks I have tried to deal with the teaching of -literature in practical fashion, not letting theory lead me to forget -the conditions actually existing. To consider an ideal state of things -might be interesting, but it would hardly help the teacher bothered -by the difficulties of every-day school-work. I have intended always -to keep well within the field of ordinary experience, and to make -suggestions applicable to average teaching. How well I have succeeded -can be judged better by teachers than by me; but I wish in closing -to insist that at least I believe that what I have said is every-day -common sense. - -I have throughout assumed always that no teacher worthy of the name -can be content with merely formal or conventional results, but will be -determined that pupils shall be brought to some understanding of what -literature really is and of why it is worthy of serious attentionaEuro"to -some appreciation, in a word, of literature as an art. If an instructor -could be satisfied with fitting boys and girls for examinations, -nothing could be simpler or easier; but I am sure that I am right in -believing that our public-school teachers are eagerly anxious to -make of this study all that is possible in the line of developing and -ennobling their pupils. - -Every earnest teacher knows that literature cannot be taught by -arbitrary methods. The handling of classes studying the masterpieces -of genius must be shaped by the knowledge and the inspiration of the -individual teacher or it is naught. Neither I nor another may give a -receipt for strengthening the imagination, for instilling taste, for -arousing enthusiasm. All that any book of this sort can effect, and all -that I have endeavored to do, is to protest against methods that are -formal and deadening, to offer suggestions which mayaEuro"even if only by -disagreementaEuro"help to make definite the teacher's individual ideas, and -to warn against dangers which beset the path of all of us to whom is -committed the high office of teaching this noble art. - -The idea which I have hoped most strongly to enforce is the possibility -of arousing in children, even in those bred without refining or -intellectual influences, an appreciation of the spirit and the -teachings of the great writers, a love for good books which may -lead them to go on with the study after they have passed beyond the -school-room. The best literature is so essentially human, it so truly -and so irresistibly appeals to natural instincts and interests, that -for its appreciation nothing is needed but that it be understood. To -produce and to cultivate such understanding should be, I believe, the -chief aim of any course in literature. - -The understanding and the appreciation must of course vary according -to the temperament and the responsiveness of the child. Miracles are -not to be expected. No teacher need suppose that the street Arab and -the newsboy will lie down with Browning and rise up with Chaucer; that -Sally and Molly will give up chewing gum for Shakespeare, or that Tom, -Dick, and Harry will prefer Wordsworth to football. In his own way and -to his own degree, however, each child will enjoy whatever literature -he has comprehended. As far as he can be made to care for anything not -directly personal or appealing to the senses, he may be made to care -for this. Nature has taken care of the matter of fitting children to -understand and to love literature as it has prepared them to desire -life. To bring the young into appreciation of the best that has been -thought and recorded by man, there is but one way: make them familiar -with it. - -It is a mistake to suppose, moreover, that an especial sort of books is -needed for children. A selection there should be, and it is manifestly -necessary to exercise common sense in choice of works for study. A -class that will be deeply interested in "Macbeth" would be simply -puzzled and bored by "Troilus and Cressida." Childish games for the -intellect there may be, as there are childish amusements for the body; -but so far as serious training is concerned there is neither adult -literature nor juvenile literature, but simply literature. - -The range of the mind of a child is limited, and the experience -demanded for the simplest comprehension of a work may be necessarily -beyond the possible reach of child life.[240:1] The limitations of -youth have, however, and should have, the same effect in literature as -in life. They restrict the comprehension and the appreciation of the -facts of existence, and equally they restrict the comprehension and -the appreciation of the facts in what is read. The impressions which -the child takes from what he sees or from what he reads are not those -of his elders, although this is less generally true of emotions than -of facts. The important point is that the impressions shall be vital -and wholesome, and above all else that they be true with the actual -verity of human experience. We all commit errors in the conclusions we -draw from life; and children will make mistakes in the lessons they -draw from books. Books which are wise and sane, however, will sooner or -later correct any misconceptions they beget, just as life in time makes -clear the false conclusions which life itself has produced. - -I have spoken more or less about the enjoyment of this study by -children, and it is difficult if not impossible to conceive that if -a class is rightly handled most children will not find the work a -pleasure. It is necessary, however, to be a little on our guard in the -practical application of the principle that children get nothing out -of literature unless they enjoy it. They certainly cannot enjoy it -unless they get something out of it; but it will hardly do to make the -enjoyment of a class too entirely the test by which to decide what work -the class shall do. Pupils should be stimulated to solid effort in the -way of application and concentration, and I have already pointed out -that in mastering the difficulties of literary language they should -be made to do whatever drudgery is needed, whether they are inclined -to it or not. They cannot, moreover, read with intelligence anything -with real thought in it, until they have learned concentration of mind. -Children, like their elders, value most what has cost something to -attain, and facile enjoyment may mean after-indifference. - -The contagion of enthusiasm is one of the means by which children are -most surely induced to put forth their best efforts to understand and -to assimilate. If the teacher is genuinely enthusiastic in his love -for a masterpiece, even if this be something that might seem to be -over the heads of the children, he arouses them in a way impossible -of attainment by any other means. A boy once said to me with that -shrewdness which is characteristic of youth, "My teacher didn't -like that book, and we all knew it by the way she praised it." Sham -enthusiasm does not deceive children; but they are always impressed by -the genuine, and no influence is more powerful. - -The most serious obstacle which teachers of literature to-day meet -with, I am inclined to think, is the difficulty children have in -seizing abstract ideas.[241:1] So long as study and instruction are -confined to the concrete and the particular the pupil works with -good will and intelligence. The moment the boundary is crossed into -the region of the general, he becomes confused, baffled, and unable -to follow. The algebra of life is too much for the brain which is -accustomed to deal only with definite values. What is evidently needed -all along the line is the cultivation of the reasoning powers in the -ability to deal with abstract thought. Personally I believe that this -could be best secured by the simplification of the work in the lower -grades, and by the introduction of thorough courses in English grammar -and the old-fashioned mental arithmetic. If some forty per cent. of -the present curriculum could be suppressed altogether, and then ten -per cent. of the time gained given to these two admirable branches, -the results of training in the lower grades, I am convinced, would -show an enormous improvement. I may be wrong in this, and in any case -we must deal with things as they exist; and the teacher of literature -must accept the fact that he has largely to train his class in breadth -of thinking. He will be able to deal with generalizations only so far -as he is assured that his students will grasp them, and this will -generally mean so far as he is able to teach them to deal with this -class of ideas. - - * * * * * - -This book has stretched beyond the limits which in the beginning were -set for it, and in the end the one thing of which I am most conscious -is of having accomplished the emphasizing of the difficulties of the -branch of work with which it is concerned. If I have done nothing more -than that, I have discouraged where I meant to help; and I can only -hope that at least between the lines if not in the actual statements -may be found by the earnest and hard-working teachers of the landaEuro"that -class too little appreciated and worthy so much honoraEuro"hints which will -make easier and more effective their dealing with this most important -and most difficult requirement of the modern curriculum. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[240:1] See pages 68-70. - -[241:1] See page 112. - - - - -INDEX - - - Abilities of children differ, 30, 60. - - Abstract ideas, 23, 112-115. - - Acting out poems, 94. - - Addison, _De Coverley Papers_, 128, 138, 146-150; - _Spectator_, 146, 223. - - Analysis _vs._ synthesis, 21. - - Art, literature an, 53; - not to be translated into words, 2; - purpose of, 1, 73. - - - Bach, _Passion Music_, 116. - - Beethoven, 53; - _Ninth Symphony_, 116. - - Biography, literary, 222-226. - - Blake, William, quoted, 31; - _The Tiger_, 93, 96-108. - - Bronson, W. C., _Voluntary Reading_, 228, 230. - - Brown, Dr. John, quoted, 79. - - Browning, 72, 115, 239; - _How they Brought the Good News_, 113; - _The Lost Leader_, 114. - - Burke, 221; - _Speech on Conciliation_, 37, 65, 138-146. - - Byron, _Destruction of Sennacherib_, 133, 215. - - - Carlyle, _Burns_, 213. - - Chaucer, 225, 239. - - Children, abilities differ, 30, 60; - at disadvantage, 118; - comply mechanically, 93; - conceal feeling, 85; - do not know how to study, 46-48; - know when bored, 52; - learn life by living, 19; - must be taught in own language, 68; - must do own work, 58; - must form estimates, 70; - not affected by preaching, 18; - puzzled by literature, 49; - responsive to metrical effects, 117; - skip morals, 89; - their world, 18, 79; - too much demanded of, 45; - understand only through personal experience, 15, 67. - - Coleridge, 72; - _Ancient Mariner_, 37, 84, 85, 181. - - College entrance requirements, 8, 30, 138, 213; - books, 34-38; - editors of, 6. - - Conventionality, how met, 197. - - Cook, May Estelle, _Methods of Teaching Novels_, 128. - - "Cramming," 59. - - Criticism, 193-206; - asked of pupils, 44; - of trashy books, 231; - must take pupil's point of view, 231. - - - Decker, quoted, 169. - - Defoe, _Journal of the Plague Year_, 224. - - Deliberation in work necessary, 217. - - Description, how written by pupils, 127. - - De Quincey, 211; - definition of literature, 123; - _Flight of a Tartar Tribe_, 234. - - Diagrams, futility of, 6. - - Dickens, quoted, 7, 202. - - Didactic literature, 22, 109. - - - Edgeworth, Maria, _Parents' Assistant_, 23. - - Eliot, George, 129; - _Silas Marner_, 5, 32, 37, 56, 127, 152, 197. - - Emerson, 211; - quoted, 65. - - Emotion, aim of literature to arouse, 85; - in literature, 2, 90; - the motive power, 24. - - Enthusiasm, connected with culture, 24; - contagious, 241; - necessary in teaching, 55; - justification of, 57; - reason to be reached through, 40, 50. - - _Evangeline_, 234; - questions on, 42, 43, 45. - - Examinational teaching, 74, 121-135. - - Examinations, 28, 44, 70, 184; - an Institute paper, 130-135; - best prepared for by broad teaching, 122; - boy's view of, 8, 9; - danger of, 40; - entrance, 35, 45; - inevitable, 121; - necessarily a makeshift, 4; - not the aim in teaching, 28, 73; - study for, 121-130; - valuable only as tests, 121; - what counts in, 125; - what examinations should test, 44. - - - Fables, truth of, 21. - - Fielding, _Tom Jones_, 202. - - - Goldsmith, _Vicar of Wakefield_, 44, 56, 152. - - - Hawthorne, quoted, 167. - - _Heart of Oak Series_, 91. - - Honesty essential in teaching, 54. - - - Illustrations, care in using, 211. - - _Il Percone_, 32. - - Imagination essential in study of literature, 3; - not created but developed, 53; - nourished by literature, 26. - - Inspirational use of literature, 74, 88-95, 117, 236. - - Irving, _Life of Goldsmith_, 37. - - _Ivanhoe_, 37, 152; - quoted, 169; - study of, 159-163. - - - Johnson, Samuel, quoted, 91. - - "Juvenile" literature, 80. - - - Lamb, Charles, 234. - - Language of literature, 63-67, 118; - of pupils, 64, 68-70; - value judged by effect, 209. - - Life, "realities of," 20. - - Limitations, inevitable, 46-48; - must be accepted, 31, 196; - youthful, 240. - - Litchfield, Mary E., quoted, 77. - - Literature, a Fine Art, 53; - aim of, 85; - algebraic, 112; - approached through personal experience, 67, 69; - deals with abstract ideas, 67; - difficulty in teaching, 28-38; - defined by De Quincey, 123; - essentially human, 238; - history of, 40, 222; - "juvenile," 80, 239; - language of, 63-67, 118; - measured by life, 56; - must be connected with life, 68; - must be taught in language of learner, 68; - not didactic, 22, 109; - not taught by arbitrary methods, 238; - nourishes imagination, 26; - pupils indifferent to, 48; - relation to life, 110; - reproduces mood, 116; - symbolic, 113; - truth in, 112-114; - vocabulary of, 74; - why included in school course, 11-27. - _See_ Study of Literature; Teaching of Literature; Literary - Workmanship. - - Literary appreciation, may be unconscious, 93. - - Literary workmanship, 207-221. - - Longfellow, 83; - _Evangeline_, 42, 43, 45. - - - Macaulay, 211, 214; - _Life of Johnson_, 37; - _Milton_, 35, 36, 212, 213. - - _Macbeth_, 3, 5, 37, 40, 57, 69, 76, 77, 83, 85, 118, 124, 202; - false explanations of words in, 63; - Miss Cook on, 128; - note on, 32; - study of, 165-192. - - _Machiavellus_, 32. - - Memorizing, 191. - - _Merchant of Venice_, 6, 81, 118. - - Metrical effects, 116; - beyond ordinary students, 186; - children susceptible to, 117; - in _Evangeline_, 43; - relation to character, 119; - study of, 94; - _vs._ intellectual content, 216. - - Middleton, _Witch_, 32. - - Milton, 15, 53, 117, 220, 225; - _Comus_, 34, 85, 117, 228; - _Il Penseroso_, 34, 41, 190; - _L'Allegro_, 34, 41, 190; - _Lycidas_, 34, 117; - _Paradise Lost_, 123, 127, 131, 228. - - _Milton_, Macaulay's, 35, 36, 212, 213. - - Moral, drawn by children, 129; - not to be drawn by teacher, 71-73, 163, 164, 198; - skipped by children, 89. - - - North, _Plutarch's Lives_, 170. - - Notes, 75, 136; - to be studied first, 76. - - Novel, study of, 152-164. - - - _A'dipus_, 202. - - Oral recitation, 180, 184, 198. - - Originality in children, 43. - - - Parables, truth of, 21-22. - - Paraphrases, 219. - - Plutarch, 170. - - Poetry, compared with prose, 211-217; - nature of, 215. - - Point of departure, 83, 143. - - Point of view, 82, 149, 180. - - Pope, quoted, 211. - - Praise, not to be given beforehand, 70; - when wise, 71. - - Prose, compared with poetry, 212-217. - - - Quicken tree, 168. - - - Raleigh, 25, 26, 64, 215. - - Raphael, _Dresden Madonna_, 57. - - Ray, 168. - - Reading, aloud, 61, 154, 177; - final, of play, 186; - first, of play, 176-179; - in concert, 62; - intelligent, basis of study, 61-67; - second, of play, 179-186; - voluntary, 227-236. - - Readings, disputed, 185. - - Reference, books of, 136, 137. - - Rembrandt, 208; - _The Night Watch_, 57. - - Riche, Barnabie, quoted, 167. - - Ridicule, danger of, 230. - - Roosevelt, President, 57. - - - Sarcasm, forbidden, 199. - - Scott, _Ivanhoe_, 37, 152, 159-163, 169; - _Lady of the Lake_, 37. - - Shakespeare, 13, 16, 46, 47, 48, 49, 53, 57, 69, 72, 90, 117, 119, - 129, 142, 168, 170, 181, 183, 184, 186, 187, 191, 206, 211, - 212, 213, 225, 239; - _Hamlet_, 77, 127; - ill-judged notes on, 32; - _Julius CA|sar_, 34; - _Lear_, 168; - _Macbeth_, 3, 5, 32, 37, 40, 57, 63, 69, 76, 77, 83, 85, 118, 128, - 165-192, 202, 239; - _Merchant of Venice_, 6, 81, 118; - _Midsummer Night's Dream_, 32; - _Othello_, 83, 167; - quoted, 205; - reason of greatness unexplained, 55; - _Richard III_, 166; - _Romeo and Juliet_, 6; - _Tempest_, 118; - _Troilus and Cressida_, 239. - - _Silas Marner_, 5, 37, 56, 127, 152, 197; - note on, 32. - - _Sir Roger de Coverley Papers_, 128, 138; - study of, 146-150. - - _Speech on Conciliation_, 37, 65; - study of, 138-146. - - Stevenson, _Treasure Island_, 152-159. - - Swift, _A Modest Proposal_, 224. - - Study of literature, in lower grades, 30; - must be deliberate, 217; - not study about literature, 40; - not study of notes, 34; - object of, 27, 29, 31; - obstacles to to-day, 39-60; - overweighted with details, 187; - puzzling to students, 47, 48; - test of success in, 30; - used as gymnasium, 88. - - Summary, not a criticism, 204. - - Supernatural, the, 84; - in _Macbeth_, 181; - in _The Ancient Mariner_, 181. - - Superstition, about witch, 173; - about quicken tree, 168. - - Synthesis _vs._ analysis, 21. - - - Teacher asks too much, 41-46; - ignores strain on pupil, 80; - must have clear ideas, 27, 49, 149; - must take things as they are, 39; - not clear as to object, 49; - not equal to demands, 53-60; - obliged to do work of home, 227; - to lead, not to drive, 58. - - Teaching, helping to extend ideas, 210; - method in, 136, 224. - - Teaching of literature, aim of, 11-27, 69-70, 236; - cannot be done by rule, 86, 138; - choice of selections in, 90-92; - confused methods, 6; - deals with emotion, 2; - educational, 3, 74, 109-120; - examinational, 3, 74, 121-135; - fine passages taken up in, 80; - importance of reading aloud in, 61; - inspirational, 49, 74, 88-95, 117; - must be adapted to average mind, 89; - preliminary, 74-87; - uncertainty in, 1-10; - written work in, 126. - - Technique, instruction in. _See_ Workmanship, literary. - - Tennyson, 49; - _Elaine_, 37; - _Merlin and Vivian_, 170; - _Princess_, 37; - _Revenge_, 26, 215. - - Text, 136; - model, 137. - - Thoroughness, 119. - - Titian, 53, 208. - - Translating, effect of, 218. - - _Treasure Island_, study of, 152-159. - - Truth in literature, 112-114. - - - _Vicar of Wakefield_, 44, 56, 152. - - Vocabulary, growth of, 209; - Miss Litchfield's view, 77; - of Burke's _Speech_, 139; - of _Ivanhoe_, 160, 162; - of _Macbeth_, 165-171; - of prose, 137; - of _Sir Roger de Coverley_, 147; - of _Treasure Island_, 153, 155; - study of, 76-79, 125, 193; - to be learned first, 74, 110, n.; - to be learned from reference-books, 76. - - - Washington, George, 22. - - Words, value of, 16. - - Word-values, 17. - - Wordsworth, 49, 239; - _Lesson for Fathers_, 195. - - Workmanship, literary, 207-221. - - Written work, 126-130; - comparison in, 190; - description in, 127; - in study of _Macbeth_, 187-191; - supreme test in, 129. - - - The Riverside Press - - _Electrotyped and printed by H. O. Houghton & Co._ - - _Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A._ - - - - -TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES: - - -Variations in spelling and hyphenation remain as in the original. - -The following corrections have been made to the original text: - - Page 165: XIII[original has "XII"] - - Page 174: gnaw till the ship springs a leak[original has - "aleak"] - - Page 245, under "Examinations": best prepared for by broad - teaching, 122;[original has a comma] - - Page 247: Teaching of literature, aim of, 11-27, - 69-70,[original has a semi-colon] 236 - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Talks on Teaching Literature, by Arlo Bates - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALKS ON TEACHING LITERATURE *** - -***** This file should be named 50082.txt or 50082.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/0/8/50082/ - -Produced by Shaun Pinder, Lisa Reigel, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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