A Practical Enquiry into the Philosophy of Education

by James Gall

6. Another circumstance, in connection with the application of knowledge by means of the conscience, should not be overlooked. It is the remarkable fact, that Nature has implanted in the mind of the young a principle, by which they unhesitatingly believe whatever they are told.—A child who has not been abused by frequent deceptions, is a perfect picture of docility. He never for a moment doubts either his parent or his teacher when he tells him what is right and what is wrong. If he be taught that it is a sin to eat flesh on Fridays, he never questions the truth of it; and if told that he may kill spiders, but should not hurl flies, he may wonder at the difference, but he never doubts the correctness of the statement. This disposition in children is applicable to every kind of instruction offered to them;—but the superior importance of moral, to every other kind of truth, and the beneficial effects of the principle when applied to moral and religious training, shew that it is chiefly designed by Nature for aiding the parent and teacher in this most important part of their labours.

7. Another circumstance connected with this subject is, that the executive powers of conscience always act according to the belief of the person, and not according to what would have been the dictates of conscience in the exercise of her legislative functions.—This of itself is a sufficient proof of the separate and independent agency of these two principles. The legislative powers, as at first implanted in the heart of man, there is reason to believe, would, if allowed to act freely, never have been in error; and even still, they are generally a witness for the purity of truth;—but the executive powers invariably act, not according to what is really the truth, but according to what the person himself believes to be right or wrong. The child who was told that it was a sin to eat flesh on a Friday, would be reproved by his conscience were he to indulge his appetite by doing so;—and the conscience of the zealous Musselman, which would smite him for indulging in a sip of wine, would commend and reward him by its approval, for indulging in cruelty and injustice to the unbeliever in his faith. The executive functions of conscience then act independently of the legislative, and frequently in opposition to them. There must be a feeling of wrong, before the executive powers will reprove; and there must be a sense of merit, before they will commend;—but a mistake in either case makes no apparent difference. This is another, and a powerful argument for the early moral instruction of the young; and it shews us also, the greater value which Nature puts upon the application and use of knowledge, than upon its possession. She not only encourages this application in all ordinary cases; but here we find her, for the purpose of maintaining the general principle, lending her assistance in the application and use of the knowledge received, even when the knowledge itself is erroneous, and the application mischievous.

8. Another important circumstance which is worthy of especial notice, is, that conscience is much more readily acted upon by examples, than by precepts.—In communicating a knowledge of duty, this principle in Nature has become proverbial; but it is not less true with respect to the executive powers, in approving or reproving that which is right or wrong. It is the prerogative of conscience to excite us to approve or condemn the conduct of others, as well as our own; and this is regulated, not by strict truth, but by our belief at the time, whether that belief be correct or the contrary. Now the precept, "Thou shalt not kill," would be sufficient to make the executive powers of conscience watchful, in deterring the individual from the crime, or in reproving and punishing him if he committed it. But the mere precept would have but little effect in exhibiting to him the full atrocity of the sin, in comparison with an anecdote or a story which detailed its commission. But even this would not be so powerful as the effect produced by a murder committed in a neighbouring street, and still more were it perpetrated in his own presence. The necessary inference to be drawn from this remarkable fact is, that moral truth is much more effectively taught by example than by precept; and accordingly we find, that at least four-fifths of scripture, which is altogether a moral instrument, consist of narrative, and are given specially, "that the man of God may be perfect, thoroughly furnished to every good work."

9. Another circumstance worthy of observation is, that the executive powers of conscience appear to be exceedingly partial when exercised upon actions done by ourselves, in comparison of its decisions upon the same actions when they are committed by others.—When we ourselves perform a good action, the approval of our conscience is more lively and more extensive, than it would have been had the good action been that of another. On the contrary, it would be more ready to perform its functions, and more powerful in impressing upon our minds the demerit or wickedness of an action committed by another, than if we ourselves had committed it. The reason of this is obviously self-love, which partly overbears the natural operations of this principle. Violence of passion and strong desire, when we are tempted to commit a crime, are hostile movements against the dictates of conscience; and they too frequently, by their excess, stifle and drown the still small voice which does speak out, but which, for the moment, is not heard within us.—But nothing of this kind takes place when the crime is committed by others. We are then much more impartial; and conscience is permitted to utter her voice, and to make her impressions without opposition. This impartial decision on the conduct of others, is found to be a great means of preventing us from the future commission of a similar crime; and this affords us another powerful argument in favour of early instruction and moral training. By attending early to this duty, the mind of the child is made up, and sentence has been pronounced on certain acts, before selfishness or the passions have had an opportunity of blinding the mind, or silencing the conscience. By proper moral training the pupil is fortified and prepared for combating his evil inclinations when temptations occur; but without this, he will have to encounter sudden temptations at a great disadvantage.

10. Another circumstance connected with this subject is, that the moral sentiments and feelings above all others, are improved and strengthened by exercise; and are weakened, and often destroyed by disregard or opposition.—Every instance of moral exercise or moral discipline, invigorates the executive powers of conscience, and renders the moral perceptions of the person more acute and tender. Every successful struggle against a temptation, implants in the mind of a child a noble consciousness of dignity, and confers a large amount of moral strength, and a firmer determination to resist others. In this respect, the good derived from the mere knowledge of a duty and its actual performance is immense. A child who is merely told that a certain action is praiseworthy, is by no means so sensible of the fact, or of its value, as he is after he has actually performed it; and when, on the contrary, he is told that a certain action is wrong, he is no doubt prepared to avoid it; but it is not till he has been tempted to its commission, and has successfully overcome the temptation, that he is fully aware of its enormity. When he has successfully resisted the first temptation, he is much better prepared than any exhortation or warning could make him for resisting and repelling a second;—while every successive victory will give strength to the executive powers of the conscience, and will render future conflicts less hazardous, and resistance more easy. For the same reason, an amiable action frequently performed does not pall by repetition, but appears more and more amiable, till the doing of it grows into a habit; and the approval of conscience becoming every day more satisfactory, the person will be stimulated to its frequent and regular observance.

But the opposite of this is equally true.—The continued habit of suppressing the voice of conscience will greatly weaken, and will at last destroy its executive powers. When a person knows that a certain action is wrong, and is tempted to commit it,—conscience will speak out, and for the first time at least it will be listened to. But if this warning be neglected, and the sin be committed, the conscience will be proportionally weakened, and the self-will of the individual will acquire additional strength. When the temptation again presents itself, it is with redoubled power, and it meets with less resistance. It will invariably be found in such cases, that the person felt much more difficulty in resisting the admonitions of conscience in the case of the first temptation, than in that of the second; and he will also feel more during the second than he will during the third. Frequent resistance offered to the executive powers of conscience will at last lay them asleep. The beginning of this downward career is always the most difficult; but when once fairly begun, it grows every day more easy, till the habit of sin becomes like a second nature.

11. There is yet another feature in the exhibition of the moral sense in adults, which ought not to be overlooked by the Educationist in his treatment of the young. We here allude to the remarkable fact, that the conscience scarcely ever refers to consequences connected merely with this world and time, but compels the man, in spite of himself, to fear, that his actions will, in some way or other, have an influence upon his happiness or his misery in another world, and through eternity.—The mere uneasiness arising from the fear of detection and punishment by men, is a perfectly different kind of feeling, and never is, and never ought to be, dignified with the name of conscience. It is the consequence of a mere animal calculation of chances;—similar to the feelings which give rise to the cautious prowling of the hungry lion, or the stealthy advances of the timorous fox. But the forebodings, as well as the gnawings of conscience, extend much farther, and strike much deeper, than these superficial and animal sensations. Conscience in man, as long as it is permitted to act freely, has always a reference to God, to a future judgment, and to eternity, and is but rarely affected by worldly considerations. The valuable lesson to be drawn from this circumstance obviously is, that the parent and teacher ought, in their moral training of the young, to make use of the same principle. The anticipated approbation or displeasure of their earthly parents or teachers, or even the fear of the rod and correction, is not enough. Children are capable of being restrained by much higher motives, and stimulated to duty by nobler and more generous feelings. The greatness, the holiness, the unwearied goodness, and the omnipresence of their heavenly Father, present to the rational and tender affections of the young, a constantly increasing stimulus to obedience and self-controul;—while the fear of mere physical suffering will be found daily to decrease, and may perhaps in some powerful minds at last altogether disappear. The horse and the dog were intended to be trained in the one way;—but rational and intelligent minds were obviously intended to be trained in the other.

Of these facts, connected as they are with the application of knowledge by means of the moral sense, the Educationist must make use for the perfecting of his science. They are the most valuable, and therefore they ought to form the most important branch of his investigations. All the other parts of Nature's teaching were but means;—this is obviously the great end she designed by using them, and therefore it ought to be his also.

In regard to the practical working of this important part of Nature's educational process, we need only remark here, that the application of the pupil's knowledge connected with the moral sense, is precisely the same in form, as in that connected with the common sense. There is always here first, as in the former case, some fundamental truth, generally derived from Scripture, or founded on some moral maxim, and presented in the form of a precept, a promise, a threatening, or an example;—there is next a lesson or inference drawn from this truth;—and there is, lastly, a practical application of that lesson or inference to present circumstances.

For the purpose of illustrating this, let us suppose that a boy who has been trained in imitation of Nature, is tempted by some ungodly acquaintances to join with them in absenting himself from public worship, and in breaking the Sabbath. The moment that such a temptation is suggested to him, a feeling arises in his mind, which will take something like the following form:—"I ought not to absent myself from public worship;"—"I ought not to break the Sabbath;"—"I ought not to keep bad company." Here are three distinct lessons suited to the occasion, obviously derived from his previous knowledge, and which he has been trained either directly or indirectly to draw from "the only rule of duty," the Bible. When, accordingly, the temptation is farther pressed upon him, and the reasons of his refusal are regularly put into form, they appear in something like the following shape and order:—"I must not absent myself from public worship; for thus it is written, 'Forget not the assembling of yourselves together;' and, 'Jesus, as his custom was, went to the synagogue on the Sabbath day.'"—"I must not profane this holy day; for thus it is written, 'Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy,'"—And, "I must not go with these boys; for thus it is written, 'Go not in the way of the ungodly;' and 'Evil communications corrupt good manners.'"