We must cease to live in books, in past mystifications, in useless theories, in foolish and unprofitable discussions, in ancient ideas and customs, and grasp the living present with all the richness, fullness and beauty of its life. The chemistry of nature, the work of her great laboratory, should be the study of youth as of age, instead of dead languages and the vain and foolish mythology of Greeks and Romans wherewith at present we poison the minds of the young.
“Can we take burning coals into our bosom and not be burned?” Can we suffer the impressionable minds of youth to be impregnated with the filth of the heathen poets in their imaginings of gods as disgusting as themselves, without staining the pure tablet of the mind with spots and grossness, while the children acquire a distaste for that glorious nature whose volume should be their constant study?
We have to deal with the great present, with life, not with death—to promote health, physical and moral, not to propagate infectious sickness. The present, wisely improved, leads to a happy future, and is the only road to that goal. We can not jump the present and its duties and reach the future so as to enjoy it, neither can the dead past lighten the labors of the living present. There is a past which still lives and vivifies the present, but the quaint and filthy imagery in which the ancient priests disguised from the profane—from all but the initiated—the mysteries of their lore, can be of small account to a people whose great duty is the dissemination of light and truth.
Every thing that has any relation to man’s comfort and well-being, or to his happiness as a social being, that it is, and not the dead past that we should learn, and of the things that affect us most nearly we should learn first. What did the ancients know of steam, of electricity, of the material elements of nature, of her forces? And little as we know, how much of that little could be learned from a lifelong study of ancient lore? If there be aught of value in the laws of ancient Rome which has not been translated into our native tongue, let it be translated; but let not our youth waste precious years in learning to play upon an instrument (Greek or Latin) which when learned can give forth no sound. But if we turn to Nature and to her grand volume, we there find all the knowledge man can acquire. From her study, too, we can learn a lesson, not perhaps among the least important, as to the limits fixed by nature to human knowledge. To know of a surety what those things are which never can be known to mortal man, is a knowledge, the want of which has driven many to puerile and superstitious practices, and many more to madness and despair.
From the great book of Nature, God’s book, is to be learned the principle of justice, of love, of wisdom, of truth; and as the germ of justice is developed in the mind, the mind is brought in contact with the Great Fountain, absorbs a portion of its light, enlarges, develops, becomes stronger, assimilates to itself the essence of the great Godhead, and renders man godlike.
So with each of the other faculties of man; each draws its nourishment from its special Fountain. Wisdom, love, justice, and truth should preside; and if judgment, sympathy and conscientiousness be judiciously trained and developed, they will help to develop harmoniously all the other faculties. But to this end they, and each and all of man’s faculties, must be brought into a wholesome, natural contact, each with its proper food; and by natural we mean not that contact which might peradventure happen if left uncared for, but such as the nature of the faculty demands for its development in due harmony, to produce the greatest amount of happiness to its possessor. To supply this food, to bring to each faculty its proper aliment, is the business of the true teacher. If we desire a child to be truthful, we must bring it in contact with truth, and bring it to love truth by causing its practice to inure to the child’s enjoyment. If we wish it to be wise, we must bring its mind in contact with wisdom, exercise its analytical powers, and train its judgment; let it see sound judgment producing happiness; let it see how beautiful and desirable is the possession of wisdom, and the child will soon learn to seek it for its own sake.
To chastise a child for speaking that which is untrue may fill it with fear, but does not make it love truth. The love of truth and of wisdom must be cultivated as we cultivate the love of music. “Seek me early, and ye shall find me.” “Knock, and it shall be opened unto you.” That which the mind seeks it will find. The natural relationships are established, and it is only for us to work in harmony with, and not obstruct or interfere with them. It is the “true relationship of things” we need to learn. There is nothing in us that is not in nature. All the forces developed in man are but developments of nature; and all the forces required for his nourishment and strength exist in the bosom of Nature. Matter, light, heat, electricity are not produced by him. In nature they exist; remove any one of them and he perishes. To Nature then must we ever turn as the reservoir of nourishment and as the teacher, by the study of whose volume we learn all of wisdom that can be known of mortal man, or that can tend to his well-being; and her true relationships must be the constant object of our search. Before the knowledge of her true relationships disappear superstition and fear and mystery. The lightning’s flash, the thunder’s roar, the falling meteor and the sun’s eclipse cease to terrify and alarm. Witches, hobgoblins and demons come no longer to trouble us; the most unusual phenomena awaken only philosophical research and curiosity. And what is true of the full-grown man is not less true of the child.
That school wherein children above the age of infancy fail to assist the teacher in his instruction, is an ill-ordered school. It is not the subject, but the teacher who is uninteresting; he scolds, worries and punishes his pupils, when he himself is the fitter subject for the lash. He awakens the sense of fear which should lie dormant, while the other faculties of his pupils slumber in spiritless inactivity.
As the object of education is to prepare children to enter successfully and happily into life, and wisely to discharge all the duties devolving upon them as they unfold into men and women, and occupy the sphere assigned to them, the simple rule for the course of instruction seems to be, that they should learn those things in the order in which they can be received by the child’s mind, which most vitally affect their well-being and happiness.
As only a healthy, well-developed body can afford a home to a healthy, well-developed mind, physical culture claims early and constant attention, and should receive that careful regard to which the truth contained in the well-known aphorism: “We are fearfully and wonderfully made,” entitles it. The teachings of the sciences of Pathology and of sanitary science should be judiciously and carefully elucidated, practically and theoretically; presented step by step to the mind of the child; and the child’s body and mind should be carefully trained, so as to develop all its physical and mental powers in harmony. Gymnasiums for the body, conducted by men who have made themselves masters of anatomy and physiology, should be an essential feature in every school, so that ignorance and the desire to excel may not lead to putting a strain upon the system calculated materially to injure organs which need careful and judicious development. Plays, games, dancing, marching and the gymnasium all require the careful supervision of a teacher well versed in a practical knowledge of the human system, and thoroughly appreciative of the great truth, “We are fearfully and wonderfully made.” But the foundation for the school as for the life career must be laid at home, and much as the teacher can do, he can never supply deficiencies resulting from the want of a well-ordered home or of a healthy home training. Never, save under necessity, should the parent yield up his sacred duty to another, at least during the tender years of childhood.