The Education of Catholic Girls

THE EDUCATION OF CATHOLIC GIRLS


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THE EDUCATION OF CATHOLIC GIRLS

by

JANET ERSKINE STUART

With a Preface by Cardinal Bourne
Archbishop of Westminster

Longmans, Green and Co.
39 Paternoster Row, London
Fourth Avenue & 30th Street, New York
Bombay, Calcutta, and Madras

Fourth Impression
1914







Nihil Obstat:
F. THOS. BERGH, O.S.B.

Imprimatur:
FRANOISOUS CARD. BOURNE
ABCHIEPOS WESIMONAST,

die 1 Januarii, 1912.


PREFACE

We have had many treatises on education in recent years; many
regulations have been issued by Government Departments; enormous sums
of money are contributed annually from private and public sources for
the improvement and development of education. Are the results in any
degree proportioned to all these repeated and accumulated efforts? It
would not be easy to find one, with practical experience of education,
ready to give an unhesitatingly affirmative answer. And the
explanation of the disappointing result obtained is very largely to be
found in the neglect of the training of the will and character, which
is the foundation of all true education. The programmes of Government,
the grants made if certain conditions are fulfilled, the recognition
accorded to a school if it conforms to a certain type, these things
may have raised the standard of teaching, and forced attention to
subjects of learning which were neglected; they have done little to
promote education in the real sense of the term. Nay, more than this,
the insistence on certain types of instruction which they have
compelled has in too many cases paralysed the efforts of teachers who
in their hearts were striving after a better way.

The effect on some of our Catholic schools of the newer methods has
not been free from harm. Compelled by force of circumstances, parental
or financial, to throw themselves into the current of modern
educational effort, they have at the same time been obliged to abandon
the quieter traditional ways which, while making less display, left a
deeper impress on the character of their pupils. Others have had the
courage to cling closely to hallowed methods built up on the wisdom
and experience of the past, and have united with them all that was not
contradictory in recent educational requirements. They may, thereby,
have seemed to some waiting in sympathy with the present, and
attaching too great value to the past. The test of time will probably
show that they have given to both past and present an equal share in
their consideration.

It will certainly be of singular advantage to those who are engaged in
the education of Catholic girls to have before them a treatise written
by one who has had a long and intimate experience of the work of which
she writes. Loyal in every word to the soundest traditions of Catholic
education, the writer recognizes to the full that the world into which
Catholic girls pass nowadays on leaving school is not the world of a
hundred, or of fifty, or of even thirty years ago. But this
recognition brings out, more clearly than anything else could do, the
great and unchanging fact that the formation of heart and will and
character is, and must be always, the very root of the education of a
child; and it also shows forth the new fact that at no time has that
formation been more needed than at the present day.

The pages of this book are well worthy of careful pondering and
consideration, and they will be of special value both to parents and
to teachers, for it is in their hands and in their united, and not
opposing action, that the educational fate of the children lies.

But I trust that the thoughts set forth upon these pages will not
escape either the eyes or the thoughts of those who are the public
custodians and arbiters of education in this country. The State is
daily becoming more jealous in its control of educational effort in
England. Would that its wisdom were equal to its jealousy. We might
then be delivered from the repeated attempts to hamper definite
religious teaching in secondary schools, by the refusal of public aid
where the intention to impart it is publicly announced; and from the
discouragement continually arising from regulations evidently inspired
by those who have no personal experience of the work to be
accomplished, and who decline to seek information from those to whom
such work is their very life. It cannot, surely, be for the good of
our country that the stored-up experience of educational effort of
every type should be disregarded in favour of rigid rules and
programmes; or that zeal and devotion in the work of education are to
be regarded as valueless unless they be associated with so-called
undenominational religion. The Catholic Church in this and in every
country has centuries of educational tradition in her keeping. She has
no more ardent wish than to place it all most generously at the
service of the commonwealth, and to take her place in every movement
that will be to the real advantage of the children upon whom the
future of the world depends. And we have just ground for complaint
when the conditions on which alone our co-operation will be allowed
are of such a character as to make it evident that we are not intended
to have any real place in the education of our country.

May this treatise so ably written be a source of guidance and
encouragement to those who are giving their lives to the education of
Catholic children, and at the same time do something to dispel the
distrust and to overcome the hostility shown in high quarters towards
every Catholic educational endeavour.

FRANCIS CARDINAL BOURNE,
ARCHBISHOP OF WESTMINSTER.




CONTENTS

PREFACE
INTRODUCTION
CHAPTER
    I. RELIGION
   II. CHARACTER. I.
  III. CHARACTER. II.
   IV. THE ELEMENTS OF CATHOLIC PHILOSOPHY
    V. THE REALITIES OF LIFE
   VI. LESSONS AND PLAY
  VII. MATHEMATICS, NATURAL SCIENCE, AND NATURE STUDY
 VIII. ENGLISH
   IX. MODERN LANGUAGES
   X. HISTORY
   XI. ART
  XII. MANNERS
 XIII. HIGHER EDUCATION OF WOMEN
  XIV. CONCLUSION
       APPENDIX I
       APPENDIX II
       INDEX




Pair though it be, to watch unclose
The nestling glories of a rose,
Depth on rich depth, soft fold on fold;
Though fairer he it, to behold
Stately and sceptral lilies break
To beauty, and to sweetness wake:
Yet fairer still, to see and sing,
One fair thing is, one matchless thing:
Youth, in its perfect blossoming.
                      LIONEL JOHNSON.




INTRODUCTION

A book was published in the United States in 1910 with the title,
EDUCATION: HOW OLD THE NEW. A companion volume might be written with a
similar title, EDUCATION: HOW NEW THE OLD, and it would only exhibit
another aspect of the same truth.

This does not pretend to be that possible companion volume, but to
present a point of view which owes something both to old and new, and
to make an appeal for the education of Catholic girls to have its
distinguishing features recognized and freely developed in view of
ultimate rather than immediate results.




CHAPTER I.

RELIGION.

"Oh! say not, dream not, heavenly notes
   To childish ears are vain,
That the young mind at random floats,
   And cannot reach the strain.

"Dim or unheard, the words may fall.
   And yet the Heaven-taught mind
May learn the sacred air, and all
   The harmony unwind."
                                          KEBLE.

The principal educational controversies of the present day rage round
the teaching of religion to children, but they are more concerned with
the right to teach it than with what is taught, in fact none of the
combatants except the Catholic body seem to have a clear notion of
what they actually want to teach, when the right has been secured. It
is not the controversy but the fruits of it that are here in question,
the echoes of battle and rumours of wars serve to enhance the
importance of the matter, the duty of making it all worth while, and
using to the best advantage the opportunities which are secured at the
price of so many conflicts.

The duty is twofold, to God and to His children. God, who entrusts to
us their religious education, has a right to be set before them as
truly, as nobly, as worthily as our capacity allows, as beautifully as
human language can convey the mysteries of faith, with the quietness
and confidence of those who know and are not afraid, and filial pride
in the Christian inheritance which is ours. The child has a right to
learn the best that it can know of God, since the happiness of its
life, not only in eternity but even in time, is bound up in that
knowledge. Most grievous wrong has been done, and is still done,
to children by well-meaning but misguided efforts to "make them
good" by dwelling on the vengeance taken by God upon the wicked, on
the possibilities of wickedness in the youngest child. Their
impressionable minds are quite ready to take alarm, they are so small,
and every experience is so new; there are so many great forces at work
which can be dimly guessed at, and to their vivid imaginations who can
say what may happen next? If the first impressions of God conveyed to
them are gloomy and terrible, a shadow may be cast over the mind so
far-reaching that perhaps a whole lifetime may not carry them beyond
it. They hear of a sleepless Bye that ever watches, to see them doing
wrong, an Bye from which they cannot escape. There is the Judge of
awful severity who admits no excuse, who pursues with relentless
perseverance to the very end and whose resources for punishment are
inexhaustible. What wonder if a daring and defiant spirit turns at
last and stands at bay against the resistless Avenger, and if in later
years the practical result is--"if we may not escape, let us try to
forget," or the drifting of a whole life into indifference, languor of
will, and pessimism that border on despair.

Parents could not bear to be so misrepresented to their children, and
what condemnation would be sufficient for teachers who would turn the
hearts of children against their father, poisoning the very springs of
life. Yet this wrong is done to God. In general, children taught by
their own parents do not suffer so much from these misrepresentations
of God, as those who have been left with servants and ignorant
teachers, themselves warped by a wrong early training. Fathers and
mothers must have within themselves too much intuition of the
Fatherhood of God not to give another tone to their teaching, and
probably it is from fathers and mothers, as they are in themselves
symbols of God's almighty power and unmeasured love, that the first
ideas of Him can best reach the minds of little children.

But it is rare that circumstances admit the continuance of this best
instruction. For one reason or another children pass on to other
teachers and, except for what can be given directly by the clergy,
must depend on them for further religious instruction. This further
teaching, covering, say, eight years of school life, ten to eighteen,
falls more or less into two periods, one in which the essentials of
Christian life and doctrine have to be learned, the other in which
more direct preparation may be made for the warfare of faith which
must be encountered when the years of school life are over. It is a
great stewardship to be entrusted with the training of God's royal
family of children, during these years on which their after life
almost entirely depends, and "it is required among stewards that a man
may be found faithful." For other branches of teaching it is more easy
to ascertain that the necessary qualifications are not wanting, but in
this the qualifications lie so deeply hidden between God and the
conscience that they must often be taken for granted, and the
responsibility lies all the more directly with the teacher who has to
live the life, as well as to know the truth, and love both truth and
life in order to make them loved. These are qualifications that are
never attained, because they must always be in process of attainment,
only one who is constantly growing in grace and love and knowledge can
give the true appreciation of what that grace and love and knowledge
are in their bearing on human life: to _be_ rather than to _know_ is
therefore a primary qualification. Inseparably bound up with it is the
thinking right thoughts concerning what is to be taught.

1. To have right thoughts of God. It would seem to be too obvious to
need statement, yet experience shows that this fundamental necessity
is not always secure, far from it. It is not often put into words, but
traces may be found only too easily of foundations of religion laid in
thoughts of God that are unworthy of our faith. Whence can they have
come? Doubtless in great measure from the subtle spirit of Jansenism
which spread so widely in its day and is so hard to outlive--from
remains of the still darker spirit of Calvinism which hangs about
convert teachers of a rigid school--from vehement and fervid spiritual
writers, addressing themselves to the needs of other times--perhaps
most of all from the old lie which was from the beginning, the deep
mistrust of God which is the greatest triumph of His enemy. God is set
forth as if He were encompassed with human limitations--the fiery
imagery of the Old Testament pressed into the service of modern and
western minds, until He is made to seem pitiless, revengeful,
exacting, lying in wait to catch His creatures in fault, and awaiting
them at death with terrible surprises.

But this is not what the Church and the Gospels have to say about Him
to the children of the kingdom. If we could put into words our highest
ideals of all that is most lovely and lovable, beautiful, tender,
gracious, liberal, strong, constant, patient, unwearying, add what we
can, multiply it a million times, tire out our imagination beyond it,
and then say that it is nothing to what He is, that it is the weakest
expression of His goodness and beauty, we shall give a poor idea of
God indeed, but at least, as far as it goes, it will be true, and it
will lead to trustfulness and friendship, to a right attitude of mind,
as child to father, and creature to Creator. We speak as we believe,
there is an accent of sincerity that carries conviction if we speak of
God as we believe, and if we believe truly, we shall speak of Him
largely, trustfully, and happily, whether in the dogmas of our faith,
or as we find His traces and glorious attributes in the world around
us, as we consider the lilies of the field and the birds of the air,
or as we track with reverent and unprecipitate following the line of
His providential government in the history of the world.

The need of right thoughts of God is also deeply felt on the side of
our relations to Him, and that especially in our democratic times when
sovereignty is losing its meaning. There are free and easy ideas of
God, as if man might criticize and question and call Him to account,
and have his say on the doings of the Creator. It is not explanation
or apology that answer these, but a right thought of God makes them
impossible, and this right thought can only be given if we have it
ourselves. The Fatherhood of God and the Sovereignty of God are
foundations of belief which complete one another, and bear up all the
superstructure of a child's understanding of Christian life.

2. Eight ideas of ourselves and of our destiny. It is a pity that evil
instead of good is made a prominent feature of religious teaching. To
be haunted by the thought of evil and the dread of losing our soul,
as if it were a danger threatening us at every step, is not the
most inspiring ideal of life; quiet, steady, unimaginative fear and
watchfulness is harder to teach, but gives a stronger defence against
sin than an ever present terror; while all that belongs to hope
awakens a far more effective response to good. Some realization of our
high destiny as heirs of heaven is the strongest hold that the average
character can have to give steadiness in prosperity and courage in
adversity. Chosen souls will rise higher than this, but if the average
can reach so far as this they will do well.

3. Eight ideas of sin and evil. It is possible on the one hand to give
such imperfect ideas of right and wrong that all is measured by the
mere selfish standard of personal security. The frightened question
about some childish wrong-doing--"is it a mortal sin?" often indicates
that fear of punishment is the only aspect under which sin appears to
the mind; while a satisfied tone in saying "it is only a venial sin"
looks like a desire to see what liberties may be taken with God
without involving too serious consequences to self. "It is wrong"
ought to be enough, and the less children talk of mortal sin the
better--to talk of it, to discuss with them whether this or that is a
mortal sin, accustoms them to the idea. When they know well the
conditions which make a sin grave without illustrations by example
which are likely to obscure the subject rather than clear it up, when
their ideas of right and duty and obligation are clear, when "I ought"
has a real meaning for them, we shall have a stronger type of
character than that which is formed on detailed considerations of
different degrees of guilt.

On the other hand it is possible to confuse and torment children by
stories of the exquisite delicacy of the consciences of the saints, as
St. Aloysius, setting before them a standard that is beyond their
comprehension or their degree of grace, and making them miserable
because they cannot conform to it.

It is a great safeguard against sin to realize that duty must be done,
at any cost, and that Christianity means self-denial and taking up the
cross.

4. Eight thoughts of the four last things. True thoughts of death are
not hard for children to grasp, to their unspoiled faith it is a
simple and joyful thing to go to God. Later on the dreary pageantry
and the averted face of the world from that which is indeed its doom
obscure the Christian idea, and the mind slips back to pagan grief, as
if there were no life to come.

Eight thoughts of judgment are not so hard to give if the teaching is
sincere and simple, free from exaggerations and phantoms of dread, and
on the other hand clear from an incredulous protest against God's
holding man responsible for his acts.

But to give right thoughts of hell and heaven taxes the best
resources of those who wish to lay foundations well, for they are
to be foundations for life, and the two lessons belong together,
corner-stones of the building, to stand in view as long as it shall
stand and never to be forgotten.

The two lessons belong together as the final destiny of man, fixed by
his own act, _this_ or _that_. And they have to be taught with all the
force and gravity and dignity which befits the subject, and in such a
way that after years will find nothing to smile at and nothing to
unlearn. They have to be taught as the mind of the present time can
best apprehend them, not according to the portraiture of mediaeval
pictures, but in a language perhaps not more true and adequate
in itself but less boisterous and more comprehensible to our
self-conscious and introspective moods. Father Faber's treatment
of these last things, hell and heaven, would furnish matter for
instruction not beyond the understanding of those in their last years
at school, and of a kind which if understood must leave a mark upon
the mind for life. [1 See Appendix I.]

5. Eight views of Jesus Christ and His mother. For Catholic children
this relationship is not a thing far off, but the faith which teaches
them of God Incarnate bids them also understand that He is their own
"God who gives joy to their youth"--and that His mother is also
theirs. There are many incomprehensible things in which children are
taught to affirm their belief, and the acts of faith in which they
recite these truths are far beyond their understanding. But they can
and do understand if we take pains to teach them that they are loved
by Our Lord each one alone, intimately and personally, and asked to
love in return. "Suffer the little children to come unto Me, and
forbid them not," is not for them a distant echo of what was heard
long ago in the Holy Land, it is no story, but a living reality of to
day. They are themselves the children who are invited to come to Him,
better off indeed than those first called, since they are not now
rebuked or kept off by the Apostles but brought to the front and given
the first places, invited by order of His Vicar from their earliest
years to receive the Bread of Heaven, and giving delight to His
representatives on earth by accepting the invitation.

It is the reality as contrasted with the story that is the prerogative
of the Catholic child. Jesus and Mary are real, and are its own
closest kin, all but visible, at moments intensely felt as present.
They are there in joy and in trouble, when every one else fails in
understanding or looks displeased there is this refuge, there is this
love which always forgives, and sets things right, and to whom nothing
is unimportant or without interest. Companionship in loneliness,
comfort in trouble, relief in distress, endurance in pain are all to
be found in them. With Jesus and Mary what is there in the whole world
of which a Catholic child should be afraid. And this glorious strength
of theirs made perfect in child-martyrs in many ages will make them
again child-martyrs now if need be, or confessors of the holy faith as
they are not seldom called upon, even now, to show themselves.

There is a strange indomitable courage in children which has its deep
springs in these Divine things; the strength which they find in Holy
Communion and in their love for Jesus and Mary is enough to overcome
in them all weakness and fear.

6. Eight thoughts of the faith and practice of Christian life. And
here it is necessary to guard against what is childish, visionary, and
exuberant, against things that only feed the fancy or excite the
imagination, against practices which are adapted to other races than
ours, but with us are liable to become unreal and irreverent, against
too vivid sense impressions and especially against attaching too much
importance to them, against grotesque and puerile forms of piety,
which drag down the beautiful devotions to the saints until they are
treated as inhabitants of a superior kind of doll's house, rewarded
and punished, scolded and praised, endowed with pet names, and treated
so as to become objects of ridicule to those who do not realize that
these extravagances may be in other countries natural forms of peasant
piety when the grace of intimacy with the saints has run wild. In
northern countries a greater sobriety of devotion is required if it is
to have any permanent influence on life.

But again, on the other hand, the more restrained devotion must not
lose its spontaneity; so long as it is the true expression of faith it
can hardly be too simple, it can never be too intimate a part of
common life. Noble friendships with the saints in glory are one of the
most effectual means of learning heavenly-mindedness, and friendships
formed in childhood will last through a lifetime. To find a character
like one's own which has fought the same fight and been crowned, is an
encouragement which obtains great victories, and to enter into the
thoughts of the saints is to qualify oneself here below for
intercourse with the citizens of heaven.

To be well grounded in the elements of faith, and to have been so
taught that the practice of religion has become the atmosphere of a
happy life, to have the habit of sanctifying daily duties, joys, and
trials by the thought of God, and a firm resolve that nothing shall be
allowed to draw the soul away from Him, such is, broadly speaking, the
aim we may set before ourselves for the end of the years of childhood,
after which must follow the more difficult years of the training of
youth.

The time has gone by when the faith of childhood might be carried
through life and be assailed by no questionings from without. A faith
that is not armed and ready for conflict stands a poor chance of
passing victoriously through its trials, it cannot hope to escape from
being tried. "We have laboured successfully," wrote a leading Jewish
Freemason in Rome addressing his Brotherhood, "in the great cities and
among the young men; it remains for us to carry out the work in the
country districts and amongst the women." Words could not be plainer
to show what awaits the faith of children when they come out into the
world; and even in countries where the aim is not so clearly set forth
the current of opinion mostly sets against the faith, the current of
the world invariably does so. For faith to hold on its course against
all that tends to carry it away, it is needful that it should not be
found unprepared. The minds of the young cannot expect to be carried
along by a Catholic public opinion, there will be few to help them,
and they must learn to stand by themselves, to answer for themselves,
to be challenged and not afraid to speak out for their faith, to be
able to give "first aid" to unsettled minds and not allow their own
to be unsettled by what they hear. They must learn that, as Father
Dalgairns points out, their position in the world is far more akin to
that of Christians in the first centuries of the Church than to the
life that was lived in the middle ages when the Church visibly ruled
over public opinion. Now, as in the earliest ages, the faithful
stand in small assemblies or as individuals amid cold or hostile
surroundings, and individual faith and sanctity are the chief means of
extending the kingdom of God on earth.

But this apostleship needs preparation and training. The early
teaching requires to be seasoned and hardened to withstand the
influences which tend to dissolve faith and piety; by this seasoning
faith must be enlightened, and piety become serene and grave,
"sedate," as St. Francis of Sales would say with beautiful commentary.
In the last years of school or school-room life the mind has to be
gradually inured to the harder life, to the duty of defending as well
as adorning the faith, and to gain at least some idea of the enemies
against which defence must be made. It is something even to know what
is in the air and what may be expected that the first surprise may not
disturb the balance of the mind. To know that in the Church there have
been sorrows and scandals, without the promises of Christ having
failed, and even that it had to be so, fulfilling His word, "it must
needs be that scandals come" (St. Matthew XVIII. 7), that they are
therefore rather a confirmation than a stumbling-block to our faith,
this is a necessary safeguard. To have some unpretentious knowledge of
what is said and thought concerning Holy Scripture, to know at least
something about Modernism and other phases of current opinion is
necessary, without making a study of their subtilties, for the most
insecure attitude of mind for girls is to _think they know_, in these
difficult questions, and the best safeguard both of their faith and
good sense is intellectual modesty. Without making acquaintance in
detail with the phenomena of spiritualism and kindred arts or
sciences, it is needful to know in a plain and general way why they
are forbidden by the Church, and also to know how those who have lost
their balance and peace of mind in these pursuits would willingly draw
back, but find it next to impossible to free themselves from the
servitude in which they are entangled. It is hard for some minds to
resist the restless temptation to feel, to see, to test and handle all
that life can offer of strange and mysterious experiences, and next to
the curb of duty comes the safeguard of greatly valuing freedom of
mind.

Curiosity concerning evil or dangerous knowledge is more impetuous
when a sudden emancipation of mind sweeps the old landmarks and
restraints out of sight, and nothing has been foreseen which can
serve as a guide. Then is the time when weak places in education show
themselves, when the least insincerity in the presentment of truth
brings its own punishment, and a faith not pillared and grounded in
all honesty is in danger of failing. The best security is to have
nothing to unlearn, to know that what one knows is a very small part
of what can be known, but that as far as it goes it is true and
genuine, and cannot be outgrown, that it will stand both the wear of
time and the test of growing power of thought, and that those who have
taught these beliefs will never have to retract or be ashamed of them,
or own that they were passed off, though inadequate, upon the minds of
children.

It is not unusual to meet girls who are troubled with "doubts" as to
faith and difficulties which alarm both them and their friends.
Sometimes when these "doubts" are put into words they turn out to be
mere difficulties, and it has not been understood that "ten thousand
difficulties do not make a doubt." Sometimes the difficulties are
scarcely real, and come simply from catching up objections which they
do not know how to answer, and think unanswerable. Sometimes a spirit
of contradiction has been aroused, and a captious tendency, or a love
of excitement and sensationalism, with a wish to see the other side.
Sometimes imperfect teaching has led them to expect the realization of
things as seen, which are only to be assented to as believed, so that
there is a hopeless effort to _imagine_, to _feel_, and to _feel
sure_, to lean in some way upon what the senses can verify, and the
acquiescence, assent, and assurance of faith seems all insufficient to
give security. Sometimes there is genuine ignorance of what is to be
believed, and of what it is to believe. Sometimes it is merely a
question of nerves, a want of tone in the mind, insufficient
occupation and training which has thrown the mind back upon itself to
its own confusion. Sometimes they come from want of understanding that
there must be mysteries in faith, and a multitude of questions that do
not admit of complete answers, that God would not be God if the
measure of our minds could compass His, that the course of His
Providence must transcend our experience and judgment, and that if the
truths of faith forced the assent of our minds all the value of that
assent would be taken away. If these causes and a few others were
removed one may ask oneself how many "doubts" and difficulties would
remain in the ordinary walks of Catholic life.

It seems to be according to the mind of the Church in our days to turn
the minds of her children to the devotional study of Scripture, and if
this is begun, as it may be, in the early years of education it gains
an influence which is astonishing. The charm of the narrative in the
very words of Scripture, and the jewels of prayer and devotion which
may be gathered in the Sacred Books, are within the reach of children,
and they prepare a treasure of knowledge and love which will grow in
value during a lifetime. Arms are there, too, against many
difficulties and temptations; and a better understanding of the
Church's teaching and of the liturgy which is the best standard of
devotion for the faithful.

The blight of Scriptural knowledge is to make it a "subject" for
examinations, running in a parallel track with Algebra and Geography,
earning its measure of marks and submitted to the tests of
non-Catholic examining bodies, to whom it speaks in another tongue
than ours. It must be a very robust devotion to the word of God that
is not chilled by such treatment, and can keep an early Christian glow
in its readings of the Gospels and Epistles whether they have proved a
failure or a success in the examination. In general, Catholic
candidates acquit themselves well in this subject, and perhaps it may
give some edification to non-Catholic examiners when they see these
results. But it is questionable whether the risk of drying up the
affection of children for what must become to them a text-book is
worth this measure of success. Let experience speak for those who know
if it is not so; it would seem in the nature of things that so it must
be. When it is given over to voluntary study (beyond the diocesan
requirements which are a stimulus and not a blight) it catches, not
like wild fire, but like blessed fire, even among young children, and
is woven imperceptibly into the texture of life.

Lastly, what may be asked of Catholic children when they grow up and
have to take upon themselves the responsibility of keeping their own
faith alive, and the practice of their religion in an atmosphere which
may often be one of cold faith and slack observance? Neither their
spiritual guides, nor those who have educated them, nor their own
parents, can take this responsibility out of their hands. St. Francis
of Sales calls science the 8th Sacrament for a priest, urging the
clergy to give themselves earnestly to study, and he says that great
troubles have come upon us because the sacred ark of knowledge was
found in other hands than those of the Levites. Leo XIII wrote in one
of his great encyclicals that "Every minister of holy religion must
bring to the struggle the full energy of his mind and all his power of
endurance." What about the laity? We cannot leave all the battle to
the clergy; they cannot defend and instruct and carry us into the
kingdom of heaven in spite of ourselves; their labours call for
response and correspondence. What about those who are now leaving
childhood behind and will be in the front ranks of the coming
generation? Their influence will make or unmake the religion of their
homes, and what they will be for the whole of their life will depend
very much upon how they take their first independent stand.

It is much that they should be well grounded in those elements of
doctrine which they can learn in their school-days. It is much more if
they carry out with them a living interest in the subject and care to
watch the current of the Church's thought in the encyclicals that are
addressed to the faithful, the pastorals of Bishops, the works of
Catholic writers which, are more and more within the reach of all, in
the great events of the Church's life, and in the talk of those who
are able to speak from first-hand knowledge and experience. It is most
of all fundamental that they should have an attitude of mind that is
worthy of their faith; one that is not nervous or apologetic for the
Church, not anxious about the Pope lest he should "interfere too
much," nor frightened of what the world may say. They should have an
unperturbed conviction that the Church will have the last word in any
controversy, and that she has nothing to be alarmed at, though all the
battalions of newest thought should be set in array against her; they
should be lovingly proud of the Church, and keep their belief in her
at all times joyous, assured, and unafraid.

Theology is not for them, neither required nor obtainable, though some
have been found enterprising enough to undertake to read the _Summa_,
and naive enough to suppose that they would be theologians at the end
of it, and even at the outset ready to exchange ideas with Doctors of
Divinity on efficacious grace, and to have "views" on the authorship
of the Sacred Writings. Such aspirations either come to an untimely
end by an awakening sense of proportion, or remain as monuments to the
efforts of those "less wise," or in some unfortunate cases the mind
loses its balance and is led into error.

"Thirsting to be more than mortal,
I was even less than clay."

Let us, if we can, keep the bolder spirits on the level of what is
congruous, where the wealth that is within their reach will not be
exhausted in their lifetime, and where they may excel without offence
and without inviting either condemnation or ridicule. The sense of
fitness is a saving instinct in this as in 1 every other department of
life. When it is present, first principles come home like intuitions
to the mind, where it is absent they seem to take no hold at all, and
the understanding that should supply for the right instinct makes slow
and laborious way if it ever enters at all.

To know the relation in which one stands to any department of
knowledge is, in that department, "the beginning of wisdom". The great
Christian Basilicas furnish a parallel in the material order. They are
the house of God and the home and possession of every member of the
Church militant without distinction of age or rank or learning. But
they are not the same to each. Every one brings his own understanding
and faith and insight, and the great Church is to him what he has
capacity to understand and to receive. The great majority of
worshippers could not draw a fine of the plans or expound a law of the
construction, or set a stone in its place, yet the whole of it is
theirs and for them, and their reverent awe, even if they have no
further understanding, adds a spiritual grace and a fuller dignity to
the whole. The child, the beggar, the pilgrim, the penitent, the lowly
servants and custodians of the temple, the clergy, the venerable
choir, the highest authorities from whom come the order and regulation
of the ceremonies, all have their parts, all stand in their special
relations harmoniously sharing in different degrees in what is for
all. Even those long since departed, architects and builders and
donors, are not cut off from it, their works follow them, and their
memory lives in the beauty which stands as a memorial to their great
ideals. It is all theirs, it is all ours, it is all God's. And so of
the great basilica of theology, built up and ever in course of
building; it is for all--but for each according to his needs---for
their use, for their instruction, to surround and direct their
worship, to be a security and defence to their souls, a great Church
in which the spirit is raised heavenwards in proportion to the faith
and submission with which it bows down in adoration before the throne
of God.




CHAPTER II.

CHARACTER I.

"La vertu maitresse d'aujourd'hui est la spontaneite
resolue, reglee par les principes interieurs et les
disciplines volontairement acceptees."--Y. LE QUERDEC.

The value set on character, even if the appreciation goes no further
than words, has increased very markedly within the last few years, and
in reaction against an exclusively mental training we hear louder and
louder the plea for the formation and training of character.

Primarily the word _character_ signifies a distinctive mark, cut,
engraved, or stamped upon a substance, and by analogy, this is
likewise character in the sense in which it concerns education. A "man
of character" is one in whom acquired qualities, orderly and
consistent, stand out on the background of natural temperament, as the
result of training and especially of self-discipline, and therefore
stamped or engraved upon something receptive which was prepared for
them. This something receptive is the natural temperament, a basis
more or less apt to receive what training and habit may bring to bear
upon it. The sum of acquired habits tells upon the temperament, and
together with it produce or establish character, as the arms engraved
upon the stone constitute the seal.

If habits are not acquired by training, and instead of them
temperament alone has been allowed to have its way in the years of
growth, the seal bears no arms engraven on it, and the result is want
of character, or a weak character, without distinctive mark, showing
itself in the various situations of life inconsistent, variable,
unequal to strain, acting on the impulse, good or bad, of the moment;
its fitful strength in moods of obstinacy or self-will showing that it
lacks the higher qualities of rational discernment and self-control.

"Character is shown by susceptibility to motive," says a modern
American, turning with true American instinct to the practical side in
which he has made experiences, and it is evidently one of the readiest
ways of approaching the study of any individual character, to make
sure of the motives which awaken response. But the result of habit and
temperament working together shows itself in every form of spontaneous
activity as well as in response to external stimulus. Character may be
studied in tastes and sympathies, in the manner of treating with one's
fellow creatures, of confronting various "situations" in life, in the
ideals aimed at, in the estimate of success or failure, in the
relative importance attached to things, in the choice of friends and
the ultimate fate of friendships, in what is expected and taken for
granted, as in what is habitually ignored, in the instinctive attitude
towards law and authority, towards custom and tradition, towards order
and progress.

Character, then, may stand for the sum of the qualities which go to
make one to be _thus_, and not otherwise; but the basis which
underlies and constantly reasserts itself is temperament. It makes
people angry to say this, if they are determined to be so completely
masters of their way in life that nothing but reason, in the natural
order, shall be their guide; but though heroism of soul has overcome
the greatest drawbacks of an unfortunate physical organization, these
cases are rare, and in general it must be taken into account to such
an extent that the battle against difficulties of temperament is the
battle of a lifetime. There are certain broad divisions which although
they cannot pretend to rest upon scientific principles yet appeal
constantly to experience, and often serve as practical guides to
forecast the lines on which particular characters may be developed.
There is a very striking division into assenting and dissenting
temperaments, children of _yes_ and children of _no_; a division which
declares itself very early and is maintained all along the lines of
early development, in mind and will and taste and manner, in every
phase of activity. And though time and training and the schooling of
life may modify its expression, yet below the surface it would seem
only to accentuate itself, as the features of character become more
marked with advancing years. Where it touches the religious
disposition one would say that some were born with the minds of
Catholics and, others of Nonconformists, representing respectively
centripetal and centrifugal tendencies of mind; the first apt to see
harmony and order, to realize the tenth of things that must be as they
are, the second born to be in opposition and with great labour
subduing themselves into conformity. They are precious aids in the
service of the Church as controversialists when enlisted on the right
side, for controversy is their element. But for positive doctrine, for
keen appreciation, for persuasive action on the wills of others, they
are at a disadvantage, at all events in England, where logic does not
enter into the national religious system, and the mind is apt to
resent conviction as if it were a kind of coercion. There are a great
number of such born Nonconformists in England, and when either the
grace of Catholic education or of conversion has been granted to them,
it is interesting to watch the efforts to subdue and attune themselves
to submission and to faith. Sometimes the Nonconformist temperament is
the greatest of safeguards, where a Catholic child is obliged to stand
alone amongst uncongenial surroundings, then it defends itself
doggedly, splendidly, and comes out after years in a Protestant school
quite untouched in its faith and much strengthened in militant
Christianity. These are cheerful instances of its development, and its
advantages; they would suggest that some external opposition or
friction is necessary for such temperaments that their fighting
instinct may be directed against the common enemy, and not tend to
arouse controversies and discussions in its own ranks or within
itself. In less happy cases the instinct of opposition is a cause of
endless trouble, friction in family life, difficulty in working with
others, "alarums, excursions" on all sides, and worse, the get
attitude of distrust towards authority, which undermines the
foundations of faith and prepares the mind to break away from control,
to pass from instinctive opposition to antagonism, from antagonism to
contempt, from contempt to rebellion and revolt. Arrogance of mind,
irreverence, self-idolatry, blindness, follow in their course, and the
whole nature loses its balance and becomes through pride a pitiful
wreck.

The assenting mind has its own possibilities for good and evil, more
human than those of Nonconformity, for "pride was not made for men"
(Ecclus. x 22), less liable to great catastrophes, and in general
better adapted for all that belongs to the service of God and man. It
is a happy endowment, and the happiness of others is closely bound up
with its own. Again, its faults being more human are more easily
corrected, and fortunately for the possessor, punish themselves more
often. This favours truthfulness in the mind and humility in the
soul--the spirit of the _Confiteor_. Its dangers are those of too easy
assent, of inordinate pursuit of particular good, of inconstancy and
variability, of all the humanistic elements which lead back to
paganism. The history of the Renaissance in Southern Europe testifies
to this, as it illustrates in other countries the development of the
spirit of Nonconformity and revolt. Calvinism and a whole group of
Protestant schools of thought may stand as examples of the spirit of
denial working itself out to its natural consequences; while the
exaggerations of Italian humanism, frankly pagan, are fair
illustrations of the spirit of assent carried beyond bounds. And those
centuries when the tide of life ran high for good or evil, furnish
instances in point abounding with interest and instruction, more
easily accessible than what can be gathered from modern characters, in
whom less clearly defined temperaments and more complex conditions of
life have made it harder to distinguish the characteristic features of
the mind. To mention only one or two--St. Francis of Sales and Blessed
Thomas More were great assentors, so were Pico de Mirandola and the
great Popes of the Renaissance, an example of a great Nonconformist is
Savonarola.

The old division of temperaments into phlegmatic or lymphatic,
sanguine, choleric, and nervous or melancholy, is a fairly good
foundation for preliminary observation, especially as each of the four
subdivides itself easily into two types--the hard and soft--reforms
itself easily into some cross-divisions, and refuses to be blended
into others. Thus a very fine type of character is seen when the
characteristics of the sanguine and choleric are blended the qualities
of one correcting the faults of the other, and a very poor one if a
yielding lymphatic temperament has also a strain of melancholy to
increase its tendency towards inaction. It is often easy to discern in
a group of children the leading characteristics of these temperaments,
the phlegmatic or lymphatic, hard or soft, not easily stirred, one
stubborn and the other yielding, both somewhat immobile, generally
straightforward and reliable, law abiding, accessible to reason, not
exposed to great dangers nor likely to reach unusual heights. Next the
sanguine, hard or soft, as hope or enjoyment have the upper hand in
them; this is the richest group in attractive power. If hope is the
stronger factor there is a fund of energy which, allied with the power
of charm and persuasion, with trustfulness in good, and optimistic
outlook on the world, wins its way and succeeds in its undertakings,
making its appeal to the will rather than to the mind. On the softer
side of this type are found the disappointing people who ought to do
well, and always fail, for whom the _joie de vivre_ carries everything
before it, who are always good natured, always obliging, always
sweet-tempered, who cannot say no, especially to themselves, whose
energy is exhausted in a very short burst of effort, though ever ready
to direct itself into some new channel for as brief a trial. The
characters which remain "characters of great promise" to the end of
their days, great promise doomed to be always unfulfilled. Of all
characters, these are perhaps the most disappointing; they have so
much in their favour, and the one thing wanting, steadiness of
purpose, renders useless their most beautiful gifts. These two groups
seem to be the most common among the Teutons and Celts of Northern
Europe with fair colouring and tall build; perhaps the other two types
are correspondingly more numerous among the Latin races. They are
choleric, ambitious, or self-isolated, as the cast of their mind is
eager or scornful and generally capable of dissimulation; the world is
not large enough for their Bonapartes. But if bitterness and sadness
predominate, they are carried on an ebbing tide towards pessimism and
contemptuous weariness of life; their soft type, in so far as they
have one, has the softness of powder, dry and crushed, rather than
that of a living organism. In children, this type, fortunately rare,
has not the charm or joy of childhood, but shows a restless straining
after some self-centred excellence, and a coldness of affection which
indicates the isolation towards which it is carried in later life.
Lastly, there is the unquiet group of nervous or melancholic
temperaments, their melancholy not weighed down by listless sadness as
the inactive lymphatics, but more actively dissatisfied with things as
they are--untiringly but unhopefully at work--hard on themselves,
anxious-minded, assured that in spite of their efforts all will turn
out for the worst, often scrupulous, capable of long-sustained
efforts, often of heroic devotedness and superhuman endurance, for
which their reward is not in this world, as the art of pleasing is
singularly deficient in them. Here are found the people who are "so
good, but so trying," ever in a fume and fuss, who, for sheer
goodness, rouse in others the spirit of contradiction. These
characters are at their best in adversity, trouble stimulates them to
their best efforts, whereas in easy circumstances and surrounded with
affection they are apt to drop into querulous and exacting habits. If
they are endowed with more than ordinary energy it is in the direction
of diplomacy, and not always frank. On the whole this is the character
whose features are least clearly defined, over which a certain mystery
hangs, and strange experiences are not unfrequent It is difficult to
deal with its elusive showings and vanishings, and this melting away
and reappearing seems in some to become a habit and even a matter of
choice, with a determination _not to be known_.

Taking these groups as a rough classification for observation of
character, it is possible to get a fair idea of the raw material of a
class, though it may be thankfully added that in the Church no
material is really raw, with the grace of Baptism in the soul and
later on the Sacrament of Penance, to clear its obscurities and
explain it to itself and by degrees to transform its tendencies and
with grace and guidance to give it a steady impulse towards the better
things. Confirmation and First Communion sometimes sensibly and even
suddenly transfigure a character; but even apart from such choice
instances the gradual work of the Sacraments brings Catholic children
under a discipline in which the habit of self-examination, the
constant necessity for effort, the truthful avowal of being in the
wrong, the acceptance of penance as a due, the necessary submissions
and self-renunciations of obedience to the Church, give a training of
their own. So a practicing Catholic child is educated unconsciously by
a thousand influences, each of which, supernatural in itself, tells
beyond the supernatural sphere and raises the natural qualities, by
self-knowledge, by truth, by the safeguard of religion against
hardness and isolation and the blindness of pride, even if the minimum
of educational facilities have been at work to take advantage of these
openings for good. A Catholic child is a child, and keeps a childlike
spirit for life, unless the early training is completely shipwrecked,
and even then there are memories which are means of recovery, and the
way home to the Father's house is known. It may be hoped that very
many never leave it, and never lose the sense of being one of the
great family, "of the household of faith." They enjoy the freedom of
the house, the rights of children, the ministries of all the graces
which belong to the household, the power of being at home in every
place because the Church is there with its priesthood and its
Sacraments, responsible for its children, and able to supply the wants
of their souls. It is scarcely possible to find among Catholic
children the inaccessible little bits of flint who are not _brought_
up, but bring up their own souls outside the Church--proud in their
isolation, most proud of never yielding inward obedience or owning
themselves in the wrong, and of being sufficient for themselves. When
the grace of Q-od reaches them and they are admitted into the Church,
one of the most overwhelming experiences is that of becoming one of a
family, for whom there is some one responsible, the Father of the
family whose authority and love pass through their appointed channels,
down to the least child.

There is no such thing as an orphan child within the Church, there are
possibilities of training and development which belong to those who
have to educate the young which must appeal particularly to Catholic
teachers, for they know more than others the priceless value of the
children with whom they have to do. Children, souls, freighted for
their voyage through life, vessels so frail and bound for such a port
are worthy of the devoted care of those who have necessarily a
lifelong influence over them, and the means of using that influence
for their lifelong good ought to be a matter of most earnest study.
Knowledge must come before action, and first-hand knowledge, acquired
by observation, is worth more than theoretic acquirements; the first
may supply for the second, but not the second for the first. There are
two types of educators of early childhood which no theory could
produce, and indeed no theory could tell how they are produced, but
they stand unrivalled--one is the English nurse and the other the
Irish. The English nurse is a being apart, with a profound sense of
fitness in all things, herself the slave of duty; and having certain
ideals transmitted, who can tell how, by an unwritten traditional
code, as to what _ought to be_, and a gift of authority by which she
secures that these things _shall be_, reverence for God, reverence in
prayer, reverence for parents, consideration of brothers for sisters,
unselfishness, manners, etc., her views on all these things are like
the laws of the Medes and Persians "which do not alter "--and they are
also holy and wholesome. The Irish nurse rules by the heart, and by
sympathy, by a power of self-devotion that can only be found where the
love of God is the deepest love of the heart; she has no views,
but--she knows. She does not need to observe--she sees' she has
instincts, she never lays down a law, but she wins by tact and
affection, lifting up the mind to God and subduing the will to
obedience, while appearing to do nothing but love and wait. The stamp
that she leaves on the earliest years of training is never entirely
effaced; it remains as some instinct of faith, a habit of resignation
to the will of God, and habitual recourse to prayer. Both these types
of educators rule by their gift from God, and it is hard to believe
that the most finished training in the art of nursery management can
produce anything like them, for they govern by those things that
lectures and handbooks cannot teach--faith, love, and common sense.

Those who take up the training of the next stage have usually to learn
by their own experience, and study what is given to very few as a
natural endowment--the art of so managing the wills of children that
without provoking resistance, yet without yielding to every fancy,
they may be led by degrees to self-control and to become a law to
themselves. It must be recognized from the beginning that the work is
slow; if it is forced on too fast either a breaking point comes and
the child, too much teased into perfection, turns in reaction and
becomes self-willed and rebellious; or if, unhappily, the forcing
process succeeds, a little paragon is produced like Wordsworth's
"model child":--

"Full early trained to worship seemliness,
This model of a child is never known
To mix in quarrels; that were far beneath
Its dignity; with gifts he bubbles o'er
As generous as a fountain; selfishness
May not come near him, nor the little throng
Of flitting pleasures tempt him from his path;
The wandering beggars propagate his name.
Dumb creatures find him tender as a nun,
And natural or supernatural fear,
Unless it leap upon him in a dream,
Touches him not. To enhance the wonder, see
How arch his notices, how nice his sense
Of the ridiculous; not blind is he
To the broad follies of the licensed world,
Yet innocent himself withal, though shrewd,
And can read lectures upon innocence;
A miracle of scientific lore,
Ships he can guide across the pathless sea,
And tell you all their cunning; he can read
The inside of the earth, and spell the stars;
He knows the policies of foreign lands;
Can string you names of districts, cities, towns,
The whole world over, tight as beads of dew
Upon a gossamer thread; he sifts, he weighs;
All things are put to question; he must live
Knowing that he grows wiser every day
Or else not live at all, and seeing too
Each little drop of wisdom as it falls
Into the dimpling cistern of his heart:
For this unnatural growth the trainer blame,
Pity the tree,"--
     "The Prelude," Bk. V, lines 298-329.

On the other hand if those who have to bring up children, fear too
much to cross their inclinations, and so seek always the line of least
resistance, teaching lessons in play, and smoothing over every rough
peace of the road, the result is a weak, slack will, a mind without
power of concentration, and in later life very little resourcefulness
in emergency or power of bearing up under difficulties or privations.
We are at present more inclined to produce these soft characters
than to develop paragons. But such movements go in waves and the
wave-lengths are growing shorter; we seem now to be reaching the end
of a period when, as it has been expressed, "the teacher learns the
lessons and says them to the child." We are beginning to outgrow too
fervid belief in methods, and pattern lessons, and coming back to
value more highly the habit of effort, individual work, and even the
saving discipline of drudgery. _We_ are beginning, that is those who
really care for children, and for character, and for life; it takes
the State and its departments a long time to come up with the
experience of those who actually know living children--a generation is
not too much to allow for its coming to this knowledge, as we may see
at present, when the drawbacks of the system of 1870 are becoming
apparent at last in the eyes of the official world, having been
evident for years to those whose sympathies were with the children and
not with codes. America, open-minded America, is aware of all this,
and is making generous educational experiments with the buoyant
idealism of a young nation, an idealism that is sometimes outstripping
its practical sense, quite able to face its disappointments if they
come, as undoubtedly they will, and to begin again. In one point it is
far ahead of us--in the understanding that a large measure of freedom
is necessary for teachers. Whereas we are, let us hope, at the most
acute stage of State interference in details.

But in spite of the systems the children live, and come up year after
year, to give us fresh opportunities; and in spite of the systems
something can be done with them if we take the advice of Archbishop
Ullathorne--"trust in God and begin as you can."

Let us begin by learning to know them, and the knowledge of their
characters is more easily gained if some cardinal points are marked,
by which the unknown country may be mapped out. The selection of these
cardinal points depends in part on the mind of the observer, which has
more or less insight into the various manifestations of possibility
and quality which may occur. It is well to observe without seeming to
do so, for as shy wild creatures fly off before a too observant eye,
but may be studied by a naturalist who does not appear to look at
them, so the real child takes to flight if it is too narrowly watched,
and leaves a self conscious little person to take its place, making
off with its true self into the backwoods of some dreamland, and
growing more and more reticent about its real thoughts as it gets
accustomed to talk to an appreciative audience. With weighing and
measuring, inspecting and reporting, exercising and rapid forcing, and
comparing, applauding and tabulating results, it is difficult to see
how children can escape self-consciousness and artificiality, and the
enthusiasts for "child study" are in danger of making the specimen of
the real child more and more rare and difficult to find, as
destructive sportsmen in a new country exterminate the choice species
of wild animals.

Too many questions put children on their guard or make them unreal;
they cannot give an account of what they think and what they mean and
how far they have understood, and the greater the anxiety shown to get
at their real mind the less are they either able or willing to make it
known; so it is the quieter and less active observers who see the
most, and those who observe most are best aware how little can be
known.

Yet there are some things which may serve as points of the compass,
especially in the transitional years when the features both of face
and character begin to accentuate themselves. One of these is the
level of friendships. There are some who look by instinct for the
friendship of those above them, and others habitually seek a lower
level, where there is no call to self-restraint. Boys who hang about
the stables, girls who like the conversation of servants; boys and
girls who make friends in sets at school, among the less desirable,
generally do so from a love of ease and dislike of that restraint and
effort which every higher friendship calls for; they can be _somebody_
at a very cheap cost where the standard of talk is not exacting,
whereas to be with those who are striving for the best in any station
makes demands which call for exertion, and the taste for this higher
level, the willingness to respond to its claims, give good promise
that those who have it will in their turn draw others to the things
that are best.

The attitude of a child towards books is also indicative of the whole
background of a mind; the very way in which a book is handled is often
a sign in itself of whether a child is a citizen born, or an alien, in
the world for which books stand. Taste in reading, both as to quality
and quantity, is so obviously a guiding line that it need scarcely be
mentioned.

Play is another line in which character shows itself, and reveals
another background against which the scenes of life in the future will
stand out, and in school life the keenest and best spirits will
generally divide into these two groups, the readers and the players,
with a few, rarely gifted, who seem to excel in both. From the readers
will come those who are to influence the minds of others here, if they
do not let themselves be carried out too far to keep in touch with
real life. From the players will come those whose gift is readiness
and decision in action, if they on their side do not remain mere
players when life calls for something more.

There are other groups, the born artists with their responsive minds,
the "home children" for whom everything centres in their own home-world,
and who have in them the making of another one in the future; the
critics, standing aloof, a little peevish and very self-conscious,
hardly capable of deep friendship and fastidiously dissatisfied with
people and things in general; the cheerful and helpful souls who have
no interests of their own but can devote themselves to help anyone;
the opposite class whose life is in their own moods and feelings. Many
others might be added, each observer's experience can supply them, and
will probably close the list with the same little group, the very few,
that stand a little apart, but not aloof, children of privilege,
with heaven in their eyes and a little air of mystery about them,
meditative and quiet, friends of God, friends of all, loved and
loving, and asking very little from the outer world, because they have
more than enough within. They are classed as the dreamers, but they
are really the seers. They do not ask much and they do not need much
beyond a reverent guardianship, and to be let alone and allowed to
grow; they will find their way for they are "taught of God."

It is impossible to do more than to throw out suggestions which
any child-naturalist might multiply or improve upon. The next
consideration for all concerned is what to do with the acquired
knowledge, and how to "bring up" in the later stages of childhood and
early youth.

What do we want to bring up? Not good nonentities, who are merely good
because they are not bad. There are too many of them already, no
trouble to anyone, only disappointing, so good that they ought to be
so much better, if only they _would_. But who can make them will to be
something more, to become, as Montalembert said, "a _fact_, instead of
remaining but a shadow, an echo, or a ruin?" Those who have to educate
them to something higher must themselves have an idea of what they
want; they must believe in the possibility of every mind and character
to be lifted up to something better than it has already attained; they
must themselves be striving for some higher excellence, and must
believe and care deeply for the things they teach. For no one can be
educated by maxim and precept; it is the life lived, and the things
loved and the ideals believed in, by which we tell, one upon another.
If we care for energy we call it out; if we believe in possibilities
of development we almost seem to create them. If we want integrity of
character, steadiness, reliability, courage, thoroughness, all the
harder qualities that serve as a backbone, we, at least, make others
want them also, and strive for them by the power of example that is
not set as deliberate good example, for that is as tame as a precept,
but the example of the life that is lived, and the truths that are
honestly believed in.

The gentler qualities which are to adorn the harder virtues may be
more explicitly taught. It is always more easy to tone down than to
brace up; there must fist be something to moderate, before moderation
can be a virtue; there must be strength before gentleness can be
taught, as there must be some hardness in material things to make them
capable of polish. And these are qualities which are specially needed
in our unsteady times, when rapid emancipation of unknown forces makes
each one more personally responsible than in the past. It is an
impatient age: we must learn patience; it is an age of sudden social
changes: we have to make ready for adversity; it is an age of
lawlessness: each one must stand upon his own guard and be his own
defence; it is a selfish age, and never was unselfishness more
urgently needed; love of home and love of country seem to be cooling,
one as rapidly as the other: never was it more necessary to learn the
spirit of self-sacrifice both for family life and the love and honour
due to one's country which is also "piety" in its true sense.

All these things come with our Catholic faith and practice if it is
rightly understood. Catholic family life, Catholic citizenship,
Catholic patriotism are the truest, the only really true, because the
only types of these virtues that are founded on truth. But they do not
come of themselves. Many will let themselves be carried to heaven, as
they hope, in the long-suffering arms of the Church without either
defending or adorning her by their virtues, and we shall but add to
their number if we do not kindle in the minds of children the ambition
to do something more, to devote themselves to the great Cause, by
self-sacrifice to be in some sort initiated into its spirit, and
identified with it, and thus to make it worth while for others as well
as for themselves that they have lived their life on earth. There is a
price to be paid for this, and they must face it; a good life cannot
be a soft life, and a great deal, even of innocent pleasure, has to be
given up, voluntarily, to make life worth living, if it were only as a
training in _doing without_.

Independence is a primary need for character, and independence can
only be learnt by doing without pleasant things, even unnecessarily.
Simplicity of life is an essential for greatness of life, and the very
meaning of the simple life is the laying aside of many things which
tend to grow by habit into necessities. The habit of work is another
necessity in any life worth living, and this is only learnt by
refraining again and again from what is pleasant for the sake of what
is precious. Patience and thoroughness are requirements whose worth
and value never come home to the average mind until they are seen in
startling excellence, and it is apparent what a price must have been
paid to acquire their adamant perfection, a lesson which might be the
study of a lifetime. The value of time is another necessary lesson of
the better life, a hard lesson, but one that makes an incalculable
difference between the expert and the untried. We are apt to be always
in a hurry now, for obvious reasons which hasten the movement of life,
but not many really know how to use time to the full. Our tendency is
to alternate periods of extreme activity with intervals of complete
prostration for recovery. Perhaps our grandparents knew better in a
slower age the use of time. The old Marquise de Gramont, aged 93,
after receiving Extreme Unction, asked for her knitting, for the poor.
"Mais Madame la Marquise a ete administree, elle va mourir!" said the
maid, who thought the occupation of dying sufficient for a lady of her
age. "Ma chere, ce n'est pas une raison pour perdre son temps,"
answered the indomitable Marquise. It is told of her also that when
one of her children asked for some water in summer, between meals, she
replied: "Mon enfant, vous ne serez jamais qu'un etre manque, une
pygmee, si vous prenez ces habitudes-la, pensez, mon petit coeur, au
fiel de Notre Seigneur Jesus Christ, et vous aurez le courage
d'attendre le diner." She had learned for herself the strength of
_going without_.

One more lesson must be mentioned, the hardest of all to be
learnt--perfect sincerity. It is so hard not to pose, for all but the
very truest and simplest natures--to pose as independent, being eaten
up with human respect; to pose as indifferent though aching with the
wish to be understood; to pose as flippant while longing to be in
earnest; to hide an attraction to higher things under a little air of
something like irreverence. It is strange that this kind of pose is
considered as less insincere than the opposite class, which is rather
out of fashion for this very reason, yet to be untrue to one's better
self is surely an unworthier insincerity than to be ashamed of the
worst. Perhaps the best evidence of this is the costliness of the
effort to overcome it, and the more observation and reflection we
spend on this point the more shall we be convinced that it is very
hard to learn to be quite true, and that it entails more personal
self-sacrifice than almost any other virtue.

In conclusion, the means for training character may be grouped under
the following headings:--

1. Contact with those who have themselves attained to higher levels,
either parent, or teacher, or friend. Perhaps at present the influence
of a friend is greater than that of any power officially set over us,
so jealous are we of control. So much the better chance for those
who have the gift even in mature age of winning the friendship of
children, and those who have just outgrown childhood. In these
friendships the great power of influence is hopefulness, to believe in
possibilities of good, and to expect the best.

2. Vigilance, not the nervous vigilance, unquiet and anxious, which
rouses to mischief the sporting instinct of children and stings the
rebellious to revolt, but the vigilance which, open and confident
itself, gives confidence, nurtures fearlessness, and brings a steady
pressure to be at one's best. Vigilance over children is no insult to
their honour, it is rather the right of their royalty, for they are of
the blood royal of Christianity, and deserve the guard of honour which
for the sake of their royalty does not lose sight of them.

3. Criticism and correction. To be used with infinite care, but never
to be neglected without grave injustice. It is not an easy thing to
reprove in the right time, in the right tone, without exasperation,
without impatience, without leaving a sting behind; to dare to give
pain for the sake of greater good; to love the truth and have courage
to tell it; to change reproof as time goes on to the frank criticism
of friendship that is ambitious for its friend. To accept criticism is
one of the greatest lessons to be learnt in life. To give it well is
an art which requires more study and more self-denial than either the
habit of being easily satisfied and requiring little, or the querulous
habit of "scolding" which is admirably described by Bishop Hedley as
"the resonance of the empty intelligence and of the hollow heart of
the man who has nothing to give, nothing to propose, nothing to
impart."

4. Discipline and obedience. If these are to be means of training they
must be living and not dead powers, and they must lead up to gradual
self-government, not to sudden emancipation. Obedience must be
first of all to persons, prompt and unquestioning, then to laws, a
"reasonable service," then to the wider law which each one must
enforce from within--the law of love which is the law of liberty of
the kingdom of God.

These are the means which in her own way, and through various channels
of authority, the Church makes use of, and the Church is the great
Mother who educates us all. She takes us into her confidence, as we
make ourselves worthy of it, and shows us out of her treasures things
new and old. She sets the better things always before us, prays for
us, prays with us, teaches us to pray, and so "lifts up our minds to
heavenly desires." She watches over us with un anxious, but untiring
vigilance, setting her Bishops and pastors to keep watch over the
flock, collectively and individually, "with that most perfect care"
that St. Francis of Sales describes as "that which approaches
the nearest to the care God has of us, which is a care full of
tranquillity and quietness, and which, in its highest activity, has
still no emotion, and being only one, yet condescends to make itself
all to all things."

Criticism and correction, discipline and obedience--these things are
administered by the Church our Mother, gently but without weakness,
so careful is she in her warnings, so slow in her punishments, so
unswervingly true to what is of principle, and asking so persuasively
not for the sullen obedience of slaves, but for the free and loving
submission of sons and daughters.




CHAPTER III.

CHARACTER II.

 "The Parts and Signes of Goodnesse are many. If a Man be
Gracious and Curteous to Strangers, it shewes he is a
Citizen of the World, And that his Heart is no Island cut
off from other Lands, but a Continent that joynes to them.
If he be Compassionate towards the Afflictions of others,
it shewes that his Heart is like the noble Tree, that is
wounded to selfe when it gives Balme. If he easily Pardons
and Remits Offences, it shewes that his minde is planted
above Injuries, So that he cannot be shot. If he be
Thankfull for small Benefits, it shewes that he weighes
Men's Mindes, and not their Trash. But above all, if he
have St. Paul's Perfection, that he would wish to be an
Anathema from Christ, for the Salvation of his Brethren, it
shewes much of a Divine Nature, and a kinde of Conformity
with Christ himselfe."--BACON, "Of Goodnesse."

No one who has the good of children at heart, and the training of
their characters, can leave the subject without some grave thoughts on
the formation of their own character, which is first in order of
importance, and in order of time must go before, and accompany their
work to the very end.

"What is developed to perfection can make other things like unto
itself." So saints develop sanctity in others, and truth and
confidence beget truth and confidence, and the spirit of enterprise
calls out the spirit of enterprise, and constancy trains to endurance
and perseverance, and wise kindness makes others kind, and courage
makes them courageous, and in its degree each good quality tends to
reproduce itself in others. Children are very delicately sensitive to
these influences, they respond unconsciously to what is expected of
them, and instinctively they imitate the models set before them. They
catch a tone, a gesture, a trick of manner with a quickness that is
startling. The influence of mind and thought on mind and thought
cannot be so quickly recognized, but tells with as much certainty, and
enters more deeply into the character for life. The consideration of
this is a great incentive to the acquirement of self-knowledge and
self-discipline by those who have to do with children. The old codes
of conventionality in education, which stood for a certain system in
their time, are disappearing, and the worth of the individual becomes
of greater importance. This is true of those who educate and of those
whom they bring up. As the methods of modern warfare call for more
individual resourcefulness, so do the methods of the spiritual
warfare, now that we are not supported by big battalions, but each one
is thrown back on conscience and personal responsibility. Girls as
well as boys have to be trained to take care of themselves and be
responsible for themselves, and if they are not so trained, no one can
now be responsible for them or protect them in spite of themselves.
Therefore, the first duty of those who are bringing up Catholic
girls is to be themselves such as Catholic girls must be later on.
This example is a discourse "in the vulgar tongue" which cannot
be misunderstood, and example is not resented unless it seems
self-conscious and presented of set purpose. The one thing necessary
is to be that which we ought to be, and that is to say, in other
words, that the fundamental virtue in teaching children is a great and
resolute sincerity. Sincerity is a difficult virtue to practise and is
too easily taken for granted. It has more enemies than appear at first
sight. Inertness of mind, the desire to do things cheaply, dislike of
mental effort, the tendency to be satisfied with appearances, the wish
to shine, impatience for results, all foster intellectual insincerity;
just as, in conduct, the wish to please, the spirit of accommodation
and expediency, the fear of blame, the instinct of concealment, which
is inborn in many girls, destroy frankness of character and make
people untrue who would not willingly be untruthful. Yet even
truthfulness is not such a matter of course as many would be willing
to assume. To be inaccurate through thoughtless laziness in the use of
words is extremely common, to exaggerate according to the mood of the
moment, to say more than one means and cover one's retreat with "I
didn't mean it," to pull facts into shape to suit particular ends, are
demoralizing forms of untruthfulness, common, but often unrecognized.
If a teacher could only excel in one high quality for training girls,
probably the best in which she could excel would be a great sincerity,
which would train them in frankness, and in the knowledge that to be
entirely frank means to lay down a great price for that costly
attainment, a perfectly honourable and fearless life. [1--"A woman,
if it be once known that she is deficient in truth, has no resource.
Have, by a misuse of language, injured or lost her only means of
persuasion, nothing can preserve her from falling into contempt of
nonentity. When she is no longer to be believed no on will take the
trouble to listen to her...no one can depend on her, no on rests
any hope on her, the words of which she makes use have no meaning."
--Madame Necker de Saussure, "Progressive Education."]

It sometimes happens that the realization of this truth comes
comparatively late in life to those who ought to have recognized it
years before. Thinking along the surface of things, and in particular
repeating catchwords and platitudes and trite maxims on the subject of
sincerity, is apt to make us believe that we possess the quality we
talk about, and as it is impossible to have anything to do with the
education of children without treating of sincerity and truthfulness,
it is comparatively easy to slip into the happy assumption that one is
truthful, because one would not deliberately be otherwise. But it
takes far more than this to acquire real sincerity of life in the
complexity and artificiality of the conditions in which we live.

"And we have been on many thousand lines,
And we have shown, on each, spirit and power;
But hardly have we, for one little hour,
Been on our own line, have we been ourselves.

     *     *     *     *

"Our hidden self, and what we say and do
Is eloquent, is well--but 'tis not true!"
          MATTHEW ARNOLD, "The Buried Life."

Sincerity requires the recognition that to be honestly oneself is more
impressive for good than to be a very superior person by imitation. It
requires the renunciation of some claims to consideration and esteem,
and the acceptance of limitations (a different thing from acquiescence
in them, for it means the acceptance of a lifelong effort to be what
we aspire to be, with a knowledge that we shall never fully attain
it). It requires that we should bear the confusion of defeat without
desisting from the struggle, that we should accept the progressive
illumination of what is still unaccomplished, and keep the habitual
lowliness of a beginner with the unconquerable hopefulness which comes
of a fixed resolution to win what is worth winning. Let those who have
tried say whether this is easy.

But in guiding children along this difficult way it is not wise to
call direct attention to it, lest their inexperience and sensitiveness
should turn to scrupulosity and their spontaneity be paralysed. It is
both more acceptable and healthier to present it as a feat of courage,
a habit of fearlessness to be acquired, of hardihood and strength of
character. The more subtle forms of self-knowledge belong to a later
period in life.

Another quality to be desired in those who have to do with children
is what may--for want of a better word--be called vitality, not
the fatiguing artificial animation which is sometimes assumed
professionally by teachers, but the keenness which shows forth a
settled conviction that life is worth living. The expression of this
is not self asserting or controversial, for it is not like a garment
put on, but a living grace of soul, coming from within, born of
straight thinking and resolution, and so strongly confirmed by faith
and hope that nothing can discourage it or make it let go. It is a
bulwark against the faults which sink below the normal line of life,
dullness, depression, timidity, procrastination, sloth and sadness,
moodiness, unsociability--all these it tends to dispel, by its quiet
and confident gift of encouragement. And though so contrary to the
spirit of childhood, these faults are found in children--often in
delicate children who have lost confidence in themselves from being
habitually outdone by stronger brothers and sisters, or in slow minds
which seem "stupid" to others and to themselves, or in natures too
sensitive to risk themselves in the melee. To these, one who brings
the gift of encouragement comes as a deliverer and often changes the
course of their life, leading them to believe in themselves and their
own good endowments, making them taste success which rouses them to
better efforts, giving them the strong comfort of knowing that
something is expected of them, and that if they will only try, in one
way if not in another, they need not be behind the best. At some
stage in life, and especially in the years of rapid growth, we all
need encouragement, and often characters that seem to require only
repression are merely singing out of tune from the effort to hold out
against blank discouragement at their failures to "be good," or to
divert their mind forcibly from their fits of depression. To be
scolded accentuates their trouble and tends to harden them; to grow
a shell of hardness seems for the moment their only defence; but if
some one will meet their efforts half-way, believing in them with a
tranquil conviction that they will live through these difficulties and
_find themselves_ in due time, they can be saved from much unhappiness
of their own making, though not of their own fault, and their growth
will not be arrested behind an unnatural shell of defence.

The strong vitality and gift of encouragement which can give this
help are also of value in saving from the morbid and exaggerated
friendships which sometimes spoil the best years of a girl's
education. If the character of those who teach them has force enough
not only to inspire admiration but to call out effort, it may rouse
the mind and will to a higher plane and make the things of which it
disapproves seem worthless. There are moments when the leading mind
must have strength enough for two, but this must not last. Its glory
is to raise the mind of the learner to equality with itself, not to
keep it in leading strings, but to make it grow so that, as the master
has often been outstripped by the scholar, the efforts of the younger
may even stimulate the achievements of the elder, and thus a noble
friendship be formed in the pursuit of what is best.

Educators of youth are exposed to certain professional dangers, which
lie very close to professional excellences of character. There is the
danger of remaining young for the sake of children, so that something
of mature development will be lacking. If there is not a stimulus from
outside, and it is not supplied for by an inward determination to
grow, the mental development may be arrested and contented-ness at a
low level be mistaken for the limit of capacity. A great many people
are mentally lazy, and only too ready to believe that they can do no
more.

Many teachers are yoked to an examination programme sufficiently
loaded to call for a great deal of pressure along a low level, and
they may easily mistake this harassing activity for real mental work,
and either be indeed hindered, or consider themselves absolved from
anything more. The penalty of it is a gradual decline of the unused
powers, growing difficulty of sustained attention, dislike for what
requires effort of mind, loss of wider interests, restlessness and
superficiality in reading, and other indications of diminution of
power in the years when it ought to be on the increase. Is this the
fault of those who so decline in power? It would be hard to say that
it is so universally, for some no doubt are pressed through necessity
to the very limits of their time and of their endurance. Yet
experience goes to prove that if a mental awakening really takes
place the most unfavourable circumstances will not hinder a rapid
development of power. Abundance of books and leisure and fostering
conditions are helps but not essentials for mental growth. If few
books can be had, but these are of the best, they will do more for the
mind by continued reading than abundance for those who have not yet
learned to use it. If there is little leisure the value of the
hardly-spared moments is enhanced; we may convince ourselves of this
in the lives of those who have reached eminence in learning, through
circumstances apparently hopeless. If the conditions of life are
unfavourable, it is generally possible to find one like-minded friend
who will double our power by quickening enthusiasm or by setting the
pace at which we must travel, and leading the way. There may be side
by side in the same calling in life persons doing similar work in like
circumstances, with like resources, of whom one is contentedly
stagnating, feeling satisfied all the time that duty is done and
nothing neglected--and this may be true up to a certain point--while
the other is haunted by a blessed dissatisfaction, urged from within
to seek always something better, and compelling circumstances to
minister to the growth of the mind. One who would meet these two again
after the interval of a few months would be astonished at the distance
which has been left between them by the stagnation of one and the
advance of the other.

Another danger is that of becoming dogmatic and dictatorial from the
habit of dealing with less mature intelligences, from the absence of
contradiction and friction among equals, and the want of that most
perfect discipline of the mind--intercourse with intellectual
superiors. Of course it is a mark of ignorance to become oracular and
self-assured, but it needs watchfulness to guard against the tendency
if one is always obliged to take the lead. Teaching likewise exposes
to faults perhaps less in themselves but far reaching in their effect
upon children; a little observation will show how the smallest
peculiarities tell upon them, either by affecting their dispositions
or being caught by them and reproduced. To take one example among
many, the pitch and intonation of the voice often impress more than
the words. A nurse with a querulous tone has a restless nursery; she
makes the high-spirited contradictory and the delicate fretful. In
teaching, a high-pitched voice is exciting and wearing to children;
certain cadences that end on a high note rouse opposition, a
monotonous intonation wearies, deeper and more ample tones are
quieting and reassuring, but if their solemnity becomes exaggerated
they provoke a reaction. Most people have a certain cadence which
constantly recurs in their speaking and is characteristic of them, and
the satisfaction of listening to them depends largely upon this
characteristic cadence. It is also a help in the understanding of
their characters. Much trouble of mind is saved by recognizing that a
certain cadence which sounds indignant is only intended to be
convincing, and that another which sounds defiant is only giving to
itself the signal for retreat. Again, for the teacher's own sake,
it is good to observe that there are tones which dispose towards
obedience, and others which provoke remonstrance and, as Mme.
Necker de Saussure remarks: "It is of great consequence to prevent
remonstrances and not allow girls to form a habit of contradicting and
cavilling, or to prolong useless opposition which annoys others and
disturbs their own peace of mind."

There are "teacher's manners" in many varieties, often spoiling
admirable gifts and qualities, for the professional touch in this is
not a grace but puts both children and "grown-ups" on the defensive.
There is the head mistress's manner which is a signal to proceed with
caution, the modern "form mistress's" or class mistress's manner, with
an off-hand tone destined to reassure by showing that there is nothing
to be afraid of, the science mistress's manner with a studied
quietness and determination that the knife-edge of the balance shall
be the standard of truthfulness, the professionally encouraging
manner, the "stimulating" manner, the manner of those whose ambition
is to be "an earnest teacher," the strained tone of one whose ideal
is to to be overworked, the kindergarten manner, scientifically
"awakening," giving the call of the decoy-duck, confidentially
inviting co operation and revealing secrets--these are types, but
there are many others.

Such mannerisms would seem to be developed by reliance on books of
method, by professional training imparted to those who have not enough
originality to break through the mould, and instead of following out
principles as lines for personal experiment and discovery, deaden them
into rules and abide by them. The teacher's manner is much more
noticeable among those who have been trained than among the now
vanishing class of those who have had to stand or fall by their own
merits, and find out their own methods. The advantage is not always
with the trained teacher even now, and the question of manner is not
one of minor importance. The true instinct of children and the
sensitiveness of youth detect very quickly and resent a professional
tone; a child looks for freedom and simplicity, and feels cramped if
it meets with something even a little artificial. Children like to
find _real people_, not anxiously careful to improve them, but able
to take life with a certain spontaneity as they like to take it
themselves. They are frightened by those who take themselves too
seriously, who are too acute, too convincing or too brilliant; they do
not like people who appear to be always on the alert, nor those of
extreme temperatures, very ardent or very frigid. The people whom they
like and trust are usually quiet, simple people, who have not
startling ways, and do not manifest those strenuous ideals which
destroy all sense of leisure in life.

Not only little children but those who are growing up resent these
mannerisms and professional ways. They, too, ask for a certain
spontaneity and like to find a _real person_ whom they can understand.
Abstract principles do not appeal to them, but they can understand and
appreciate character, not in one type and pattern alone, for every
character that has life and truth commands their respect and is
acceptable in one way if not in another. It is not the bright colours
of character alone which attract them, they often keep a lifelong
remembrance of those whose qualities are anything but showy. They look
for fairness in those who govern them, but if they find this they
can accept a good measure of severity. They respect unflinching
uprightness and are quick to detect the least deviation from it. They
prefer to be taken seriously on their own ground; things in general
are so incomprehensible that it only makes matters worse to be
approached with playful methods and facetious invitations into
the unknown, for who can tell what educational ambush for their
improvement may be concealed behind these demonstrations. They give
their confidence more readily to grave and quiet people who do not
show too rapturous delight in their performances, or surprise at their
opinions, or--especially--distress at their ignorance. They admire
with lasting admiration those who are hard on themselves and take
their troubles without comment or complaint. They admire courage, and
they can appreciate patience if it does not seem to be conscious of
itself. But they do not look up to a character in which mildness so
predominates that it cannot be roused to indignation and even anger in
a good cause. A power of being roused is felt as a force in reserve,
and the knowledge that it is there is often enough to maintain peace
and order without any need for interference or remonstrance. They are
offended by a patience which looks like weariness, determined if it
were at the last gasp to "improve the occasion" and say something of
educational profit. To "improve the occasion" really destroys the
opportunity; it is like a too expansive invitation to birds to come
and feed, which drives them off in a nutter. Birds come most willingly
when crumbs are thrown as it were by accident while the benefactor
looks another way; and young minds pick up gratefully a suggestion
which seems to fall by the way, a mere hint that things are understood
and cared about, that there is safety beyond the thin ice if one
trusts and believes, that "all shall be well" if people will be true
to their best thoughts. They can understand these assurances and
accept them when something more explicit would drive them back to bar
the door against intruders. All these are truisms to those who have
observed children. The misfortune is that in spite of the prominence
given to training of teachers, of the new name of "Child Study" and
its manuals, there are many who teach children without reaching their
real selves. If the children could combine the result of their
observations and bring out a manual of "Teacher Study" we should have
strange revelations as to how it looks from the other side. We should
be astonished at the shrewdness of the small juries that deliberate,
and the insight of the judges that pronounce sentence upon us, and we
should be convinced that to obtain a favourable verdict we needed very
little subtlety, and not too much theory, but as much as possible of
the very things we look for as the result and crown of our work. We
labour to produce character, we must have it. We look for courage and
uprightness, we must bring them with us. We want honest work, we have
to give proof of it ourselves. And so with the Christian qualities
which we hope to build on these foundations. We care for the faith of
the children, it must abound in us. We care for the innocence of their
life, we must ourselves be heavenly minded, we want them to be
unworldly and ready to make sacrifices for their religion, they must
understand that it is more than all the world to us. We want to secure
them as they grow up against the spirit of pessimism, our own
imperturbable hope in God and confidence in the Church will be more
convincing than our arguments. We want them to grow into the fulness
of charity, we must make charity the most lovable and lovely thing in
the world to them.

The Church possesses the secrets of these things; she is the great
teacher of all nations and brings out of her treasury things new and
old for the training of her children. A succession of teaching orders
of religious, representing different patterns of education, has gone
forth with her blessing to supply the needs of succeeding generations
in each class of the Christian community. When children cannot be
brought up in their own homes, religious seem to be designated as
their natural guardians, independent as they are by their profession
from the claims of personal interest and self-advancement, and
therefore free to give their full sympathy and devotion to the
children under their charge. They have also the independence of their
corporate life, a great power behind the service of the schoolroom in
which they find mutual support, an "Upper Boom" to which they can
withdraw and build up again in prayer and intercourse with one another
their ideals of life and duty in an atmosphere which gives a more
spiritual re-renewal of energy than a holiday of entire forgetfulness.

It is striking to observe that while the so-called Catholic countries
are banishing religious from their schools, there is more and more
inclination among non-Catholic parents who have had experience of
other systems to place their children under the care of religious. And
it was strange to hear one of His Majesty's Inspectors express his
conviction that "it would be ideal if all England could be taught by
nuns!" Thus indirect testimony comes from friendly or hostile sources
to the fact that the Church holds the secret of education, and every
Catholic teacher may gain courage from the knowledge of having that
which is beyond all price in the education of children, that which all
the world is seeking for, and which the Church alone knows that she
possesses in its fulness.




CHAPTER IV.

THE ELEMENTS OF CATHOLIC PHILOSOPHY.

"E quosto ti sia sempre piombo ai piedi,
  Per farti mover lento, com' uom lasso,
  Ed al si ed al no, che tu non vedi;
Che quegli e tra gli stolti bene abbasso,
  Che senza disfcinzion afferma o nega,
  Nell' un cosi come nell' altro passo;
Perch' egl' incontra che piu volte piega
  L' opinion corrente in falsa parte,
  E poi l' affetto lo intelletto lega.
Vie piu che indarno da riva si parte,
  Perche non toma tal qual ei si move,
  Chi pesca per lo vero e noil ha l' arte."
          DANTE, "Paradiso," Canto XIII.

The elements of Catholic philosophy may no longer be looked upon as
out of place in the education of our girls, or as being reserved for
the use of learned women and girlish oddities. They belong to every
well-grounded Catholic education, and the need for them will be felt
more and more. They are wanted to balance on the one hand the
unthinking impulse of living for the day, which asks no questions so
long as the "fun" holds out, and on the other to meet the urgency of
problems which press upon the minds of the more thoughtful as they
grow up. When this teaching has been long established as part of an
educational plan it has been found to give steadiness and unity to the
whole; something to aim at from the beginning, and in the later years
of a girl's education something which will serve as foundation for all
branches of future study, so that each will find its place among the
first principles, not isolated from the others but as part of a whole.
The value of these elements for the practical guidance of life is
likewise very great. A hold is given in the mind to the teaching of
religion and conduct which welds into one defence the best wisdom of
this world and of the next. For instance, the connexion between reason
and faith being once established, the fear of permanent disagreement
between the two, which causes so much panic and disturbance of mind,
is set at rest.

There is a certain risk at the outset of these studies that girls
will take the pose of philosophical students, and talk logic and
metaphysics, to the confusion of their friends and of their own
feelings later on, when they come to years of discretion and realize
the absurdity of these "lively sallies," as they would have been
called in early Victorian times--the name alone might serve as
a warning to the incautious! They may perhaps go through an
argumentative period and trample severely upon the opinions of those
who are not ready to have their majors "distinguished" and their
minors "conceded," and, especially, their conclusions denied. But
these phases will be outlived and the hot-and-cold remembrance of them
will be sufficient expiation, with the realization that they did not
know much when they had taken in the "beggarly elements" which dazzled
them for a moment. The more thoughtful minds will escape the painful
phase altogether.

There are three special classes among girls whose difficulties of mind
call for attention. There are those who frisk playfully along, taking
the good things of life as they come--"the more the better"--whom, as
children, it is hard to call to account. They are lightly impressed
and only for a moment by the things they feel, and scarcely moved
at all by the things they understand. The only side which seems
troublesome in their early life is that there is so little hold upon
it. They are unembarrassed and quite candid about their choice; it is
the enjoyable good, life on its pleasantest side. And this disposition
is in the mind as well as in the will; they cannot see it in any other
way. Restraint galls them, and their inclination is not to resist but
to evade it. These are kitten-like children in the beginning, and they
appear charming. But when the kitten in them is overgrown, its playful
evasiveness takes an ugly contour and shows itself as want of
principle. The tendency to snatch at enjoyment hardens into a grasping
sense of market values, and conscience, instead of growing inexorable,
learns to be pliant to circumstances. Debts weigh lightly, and duties
scarcely weigh at all. Concealment and un-truthfulness come in very
easily to save the situation in a difficulty, and once the conduct of
life is on the down-grade it slides quickly and far, for the sense of
responsibility is lacking and these natures own no bond of obligation.
They have their touch of piety in childhood, but it soon wears off,
and in its best days cannot stand the demands made upon it by duty; it
fails of its hold upon the soul, like a religion without a sacrifice.
In these minds some notions of ethics leave a barbed arrow of remorse
which penetrates further than piety. They may soothe themselves with
the thought that God will easily forgive, later on, but they cannot
quite lose consciousness of the law which does not forgive, of the
responsibility of human acts and the inevitable punishment of
wrong-doing which works itself out, till it calls for payment of the
last farthing. And by this rough way of remorse they may come back to
God. Pope Leo XI