Special Method in Primary Reading and Oral Work with Stories

by Charles A. McMurry

This body of ancient myths comes down to us, sifted out of the early literature of the active-minded Greeks. They have found their way as a simple and charming poetry into the national literature of all the European countries. Is this the material suited to nine- and ten-year-old children? It will not be questioned that these myths belong to the best literary products of Europe, but are they suited to children?

It is evident that some of our best literary judges have deemed them appropriate. Hawthorne has put them into a form designed especially for the young folk. Charles Kingsley wrote of the Greek myths for his children: "Now I love these old Hellens heartily, and they seem to me like brothers, though they have all been dead and gone many a hundred years. They are come to tell you some of their old fairy tales, which they loved when they were young like you. For nations begin at first by being children like you, though they are made up of grown men. They are children at first like you—men and women with children's hearts; frank, and affectionate, and full of trust, and teachable, loving to see and learn all the wonders around them; and greedy also, too often, and passionate and silly, as children are."

Not a few other authors of less note have tried to turn the classical myths of the old Greek poets into simple English for the entertainment and instruction of children. Scarcely any of these stories that have not appeared in various children's books in recent years. Taken as a whole, they are a storehouse of children's literature. The philosopher, Herbart, looked upon poems of Homer as giving ideal expression to the boyhood of the race, and the story of Ulysses was regarded by him as the boy's book,—the Greek Robinson Crusoe. For the child of nine years he thought it the most suitable story.

Kingsley says in his Introduction: "Now you must not think of the Greeks in this book as learned men, living in great cities, such as they were afterwards, when they wrought all their beautiful works, but as country people, living on farms and in walled villages, in a simple, hard-working way; so that the greatest kings and heroes cooked their own meals and thought it no shame, and made their own ships and weapons, and fed and harnessed their own horses. So that a man was honored among them, not because he happened to be rich, but according to his skill and his strength and courage and the number of things he could do. For they were but grown-up children, though they were right noble children too, and it was with them as it is now at school, the strongest and cleverest boy, though he be poor, leads all the rest."

In the introduction to the "Wonder Book" we find the following: "Hawthorne took a vital interest in child life. He was accustomed to observe his own children very closely. There are private manuscripts extant which present exact records of what his young son and elder daughter said or did from hour to hour, the father seating himself in their playroom and patiently noting all that passed. To this habit of watchful and sympathetic scrutiny we may attribute in part the remarkable felicity, the fortunate ease of adaptation to the immature understanding, and the skilful appeal to the fresh imaginations which characterize his stories for the young." Hawthorne himself says: "The author has long been of the opinion that many of the classical myths were capable of being rendered into very capital reading for children.... No epoch of time can claim a copyright on these immortal fables. They seem never to have been made, and so long as man exists they can never perish; but by their indestructibility itself they are legitimate subjects, for every age to clothe with its own garniture of manners and sentiment, and to imbue with its own morality.... The author has not always thought it necessary to write downward in order to meet the comprehension of children. He has generally suffered the theme to soar, whenever such was its tendency. Children possess an unestimated sensibility to whatever is deep or high in imagination or feeling so long as it is simple likewise. It is only the artificial and the complex that bewilder them."

A brief analysis of the qualities which render these myths so attractive will help us to see their value in the education of children.

The astonishing brightness of fanciful episode and of pure and clear-cut imagery has an indestructible charm for children. They can soar into and above the clouds on the shining wings of Pegasus. With Eolus they shut up the contrary winds in an ox-hide, and later let them out to plague the much-suffering Ulysses. They watch with astonishment as Jason yokes the fire-breathing oxen and strews the field with uprooted stumps and stones as he prepares the soil for the seed of dragon's teeth. Each child becomes a poet as he recreates the sparkling brightness of these simple pictures. And when a child has once suffered his fancy to soar to these mountain heights and ocean depths, it will no longer be possible to make his life entirely dull and prosaic. He has caught glimpses of a bright world that will linger unfading in the uplands of his memory. And while they are so deep and lofty they are still, as Hawthorne says, very simple. Some of the most classic of the old stories are indeed too long for third grade children; too many persons and too much complexity, as in the "Tales of Troy." But on the other hand, many of the most beautiful of the old myths are as plain and simple to a child as a floating summer cloud. High in the sky they may be or deep in the reflection of some lake or spring, but clear and plain to the thought of a little child. These stories in their naive simplicity reflect the wonder and surprise with which a person first beholds grand and touching scenery, whether it be the oppressive grandeur of some beetling mountain crag, or the placid quiet of a moonlit stream. The stories selected for this grade should be the simplest and best: "The Golden Touch," "Perseus," "The Chimæra," of Hawthorne, the episodes of the "Golden Fleece," with others similar.

In one form or another they introduce us to the company of heroes, or, at least, of great and simple characters. Deeds of enterprise and manliness or of unselfishness and generosity are the climax of the story. To meet danger and hardship or ridicule for the sake of a high purpose is their underlying thought. Perseus and Jason and Ulysses are all ambitious to prove their title to superior shrewdness and courage and self-control. When we get fairly into the mythical age, we find ourselves among the heroes, among those striving for mastery and leadership in great undertakings. Physical prowess and manly spirit are its chief virtues. And can there be any question that there is a time in the lives of children when these ideas fill the horizon of their thought? Samson and David and Hercules, Bellerophon and Jason, are a child's natural thoughts or, at least, they fit the frame of his mind so exactly that one may say the picture and the frame were made for each other. The history of most countries contains such an age of heroes. Tell in Switzerland, Siegfried in Germany, Bruce in Scotland, Romulus and Horatius at Rome, Alfred in England, are all national heroes of the mythical age, whose deeds are heroic and of public good. The Greek stories are only a more classic edition of this historical epoch, and should lead up to a study of these later products of European literature.

Several forms of moral excellence are objectively realized or personified in these stories.

As the wise Centaur, after teaching Jason to be skilful and brave, sent him out into the world, he said: "Well, go, my son; the throne belongs to thy father and the gods love justice. But remember, wherever thou dost wander, to observe these three things: