The Moral Instruction of Children Part 7

Bearing grudges, lying, mocking those who (like the deaf and blind) are afflicted with personal defects, appropriating what is found without attempting to discover the owner, seeking to excuse wrong on the plea that many others are guilty of it--all these are forms of moral evil with which children are perfectly familiar, and against which they need to be warned. It is more than strange that such commandments as the sixth and eighth of the Decalogue (the commandment against murder and against adultery, forsooth), which are inapplicable to little children, should be made so much of in primary moral instruction, while those other commandments which do come home to them are often overlooked. The theory here expounded, that moral teaching should keep pace with the experience and intelligence of the child, should save us from such mistakes.

To proceed with the stories, the book of Joshua offers nothing that we can turn to account, nor do the stories of Jael, Deborah, and Gideon contain moral lessons fit for the young. Sour milk is not proper food for children, nor do those stories afford the proper moral food in which, so to speak, the milk of human kindness has turned sour. The labors of Samson, the Hebrew Hercules, are likewise unfit to be used at this stage, at least for the purpose of moral instruction. The story of the daughter of Jephtha, the Hebrew Iphigenia, is exquisitely pathetic, but it involves the horrible idea of human sacrifice, and therefore had better be omitted. The acts and speeches of Samuel mark an epoch in the history of the Hebrew religion, and are of profound interest to the scholar. But there are certain features, such as the killing of Agag, which would have to be eliminated in any case; then the theological and moral elements are so blended that it would be difficult if not impossible to separate them; and altogether the character of this mighty ancient seer, this Hebrew Warwick, this king-maker and enemy of kings, is above the comprehension of primary scholars. We shall therefore omit the whole intervening period, and pa.s.s at once from the Moses cycle to

_The David Cycle._

The first story of this group is that of _Naomi and Ruth_, the ancestress of David. Upon the matchless beauty of this tale it is unnecessary to expatiate. I wish to remark, however, in pa.s.sing that it ill.u.s.trates as well as any other--better perhaps than any other--the peculiar art of the biblical narrative to which we have referred above.

If any one at the present day were asked to decide whether a woman placed in Ruth's situation would act rightly in leaving her home and following an aged mother-in-law to a distant country, how many pros and cons would he have to weigh before he would be able to say yes or no?

Are her own parents still living, and are they so situated that she is justified in leaving them? Are there other blood relations who have a prior claim on her? Has she raised expectations at home which she ought not to disappoint, or undertaken duties which ought not to be set aside in deference to a sentiment no matter how n.o.ble? Of all such side issues and complications of duty which would render a decision like hers difficult in modern times, the story as we have it before us is cleared.

All minor traits are suppressed. It is a.s.sumed that she has a right to go if she pleases, and the mind is left free to dwell, unimpeded by any counter-considerations, upon the beauty of her choice. This choice derives its excellence from the fact that it was perfectly free. There was no tie of consanguinity between Naomi and her. The two women were related in such a way that the bond might either be drawn more tightly or severed without blame. Orpah, too, pitied her mother-in-law. She wept, but she returned to her home. We can not, on that account, condemn her. It was not her bounden duty to go. Ruth, on the other hand, might perhaps have satisfied her more sensitive conscience by accompanying her mother-in-law as far as Bethlehem, and then returning to Moab. But she preferred instead exile and the hards.h.i.+ps of a life among strangers. Not being a daughter, she freely took upon herself the duties of a daughter; and it is this that const.i.tutes the singular merit of her action. In telling the story it is best to follow the original as closely as possible. "Entreat me not to leave thee, nor to desist from following after thee, for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people: where thou diest will I die and there will I be buried." Where in universal literature shall we find words more eloquent of tender devotion than these? It will be noticed that I have left out the phrase "and thy G.o.d shall be my G.o.d" for two reasons. No matter how much we may love another person, religious convictions ought to be held sacred. We have no right to give up our convictions even for affection's sake. Moreover, the words correctly understood are really nothing but an amplification of what has preceded.

The language of Ruth refers throughout to the proposed change of country. "Whither thou goest, I will go; where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy folk shall be my folk; where thou diest, I will die." And the phrase "Thy G.o.d shall be my G.o.d" has the same meaning. The ancients believed that every country has its G.o.d, and to say "Thy G.o.d shall be my G.o.d" was tantamount to saying "Thy country shall be my country." It is better, therefore, to omit these words. Were we to retain them, the impression might be created that Ruth contemplated a change of religion merely to please the aged Naomi, and such a step from a moral point of view would be unwarrantable. It was this Gentile woman Ruth who became the ancestress of the royal house of David.

The story of _David's life_ is replete with dramatic interest. It may be arranged in a series of pictures. First picture: David and Goliath--i. e., skill pitted against brute strength, or the deserved punishment of a bully. Every boy takes comfort in this story. Second picture: David and Jonathan, their arms twined about each other's neck, a beautiful example of youthful friends.h.i.+p. Especially should the unselfishness of Jonathan be noted. He, the Hebrew crown prince, so far from being jealous of his rival, recognized the superior qualities of the latter and served him with the most generous fidelity. Third picture: David the harper, playing before the gloomy, moody king, whom an evil spirit has possessed. It should be noted how difficult is the task inc.u.mbent upon Jonathan of combining his duty to his father and his affection for his friend. Yet he fails in neither. Fourth picture: David's loyalty manifest. He has the monarch in his power in the camp, in the cave, and proves that there is no evil intention in his mind. The words of Saul are very touching, "Is it thy voice I hear, my son David?"

Fifth picture: the battle, the tragical end of Saul and Jonathan. The dirge of David floats above the field: "The beauty of Israel is slain upon the high places. How are the mighty fallen!" etc. A second series of pictures now begins. David is crowned king, first by his clansmen, then by the united tribes. David, while besieging Bethlehem, is athirst and there is no water. Three of his soldiers cut their way to the well near the gate, which is guarded by the enemy, and bring back a cup of water. He refuses it, saying: "It is not water, but the blood of the men who have risked their lives for me." Omitting the story of Bathsheba, we come next to the rebellion of Absalom. The incidents of this rebellion may be depicted as follows: First, Absalom in his radiant beauty at the feast of the sheep-shearer. Next, Absalom at the gate playing the demagogue, secretly inciting the people to revolt. Next, David ascending Mount Olivet weeping, the base s.h.i.+mei, going along a parallel ridge, flinging stones at the king and reviling him. David remarks: "If my own son seek my life, how shall I be angry with this Benjamite?" Next, the death of Absalom in the wood. Finally, David at the gate receiving the news of Absalom's death, and breaking forth into the piercing cry: "O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! would G.o.d I had died for thee! O Absalom, my son, my son!" It is the story of a rebellious and undutiful child, and ill.u.s.trates by contrast the unfathomable depth of a father's love, of a love that yearns even over the wicked, over the lost.

The points of the stories included in the David cycle are: skill and courage triumphant over brute strength, unselfish friends.h.i.+p, loyalty, a leader's generosity toward his followers, and parental love. The arrangement of the words in the lament of David for his son deserves to be specially noted. It corresponds to and vividly describes the rhythmic movements of the emotions excited by great sorrow. From the life of Solomon we select only the judgment, related in I Kings, iii. We may compare with it a similar story, showing, however, interesting variations, in the Jataka tales.

With this our selections from the Old Testament narrative come to an end. The ideal types are exhausted, and the figures which now appear upon the scene stand before us in the dry light of history.

From the New Testament we select for the primary course the story of the Good Samaritan, as ill.u.s.trative of true charity. Selected pa.s.sages from the Sermon on the Mount may also be explained and committed to memory.

The Beat.i.tudes, however, and the parables lie outside our present limits, presupposing as they do a depth of spiritual experience which is lacking in children.

NOTE.--It should be remembered that the above selections have been made with a view to their being included in a course of unsectarian moral instruction. Such a course must not express the religious tenets of any sect or denomination. Much that has here been omitted, however, can be taught in the Sunday schools, the existence of which alongside of the daily schools is, as I have said, presupposed in these lectures. I have simply tried to cull the moral meaning of the stories, leaving, as I believe, the way open for divergent religious interpretations of the same stories.

But I realize that the religious teacher may claim the Bible wholly for his own, and may not be willing to share even a part of its treasure with the moral teacher. If this be so, then these selections from the Bible, for the present, at all events, will have to be omitted. They can, nevertheless, be used by judicious parents, and some if not all of the suggestions they contain may prove acceptable to teachers of Sunday schools.

FOOTNOTES:

[11] In his Introduction to Homer.

[12] I have taken the liberty of altering the language here and there, for reasons that will be obvious in each case.

X

THE ODYSSEY AND THE ILIAD.

As we leave the field of biblical literature and turn to the cla.s.sic epic of Greece, a new scene spreads out before us, new forms and faces crowd around us, we breathe a different atmosphere.

The poems of Homer among the Greeks occupied a place in many respects similar to that of the Bible among the Hebrews. At Athens there was a special ordinance that the Homeric poems should be recited once every fourth year at the great Panathenaic festival. On this occasion the rhapsode, standing on an elevated platform, arrayed in rich robes, with a golden wreath about his head, addressed an audience of many thousands.

The poems were made the subject of mystical, allegorical, and rationalistic interpretation, precisely as was the case with the text of the Bible. As late as the first century of our era, the first book placed in the hands of children, the book from which they learned to read and write, was Homer. Xenophon in the Symposium has one of the guests say: "My father, anxious that I should become a good man, made me learn all the poems of Homer, and now I could repeat the whole Iliad and Odyssey by heart."[13]

We shall not go quite to the same length as Xenophon. We should hardly think it sufficient in order to make a good man of a boy to place Homer in his hands. But we do believe that the knowledge of the Homeric poems, introduced at the right time and in the right way, will contribute to such a result.

Let us, however, examine more closely in what the value of these poems consists.

Ulysses is the hero of the Odyssey, Achilles of the Iliad. Ulysses is pre-eminently the type of resourceful intelligence, Achilles of valor.

In what way will these types appeal to our pupils? As the boy develops beyond the early period of childhood, there shows itself in him a spirit of adventure. This has been noticed by all careful educators. Now, there is a marked difference between the spirit of adventure and the spirit of play. Play consists in the free exercise of our faculties. Its characteristic mark is the absence of taxing effort. The child is said to be at play when it frolics in the gra.s.s, when it leaps or runs a race, or when it imitates the doings of its elders. As soon, however, as the exertion required in carrying on a game becomes appreciable, the game is converted into a task and loses its charm. The spirit of adventure, on the contrary, is called forth by obstacles; it delights in the prospect of difficulties to be overcome; it is the sign of a fresh and apparently boundless energy, which has not yet been taught its limitations by the rough contact with realities. The spirit of adventure begins to develop in children when the home life no longer entirely contents them, when they wish to be freed from the constraint of dependence on others, when it seems to them as if the whole world lay open to them and they could dare and do almost anything. It is at this time that children love to read tales of travel, and especially tales of the sea, of s.h.i.+pwreck, and hair-breadth escapes, of monsters slain by dauntless heroes, of rescue and victory, no matter how improbable or impossible the means. Now success in such adventures depends largely on courage. And it is good for children to have examples even of physical courage set before them, provided it be not brutal. The craven heart ought to be despised. Mere good intentions ought not to count. Unless one has the resolute will, the fearless soul, that can face difficulties and danger without flinching, he will never be able to do a man's work in the world. This lesson should be imprinted early. A second prerequisite of success is presence of mind, or what has been called above resourceful intelligence. And this quality is closely allied with the former. Presence of mind is the result of bravery. The mind will act even in perilous situations if it be not paralyzed by fear. It is fear that causes the wheels of thought to stop. If one can only keep off the clog of fear, the mind will go on revolving and often find a way of escape where there seemed none. Be not a coward, be brave and clear-headed in the midst of peril--these are lessons the force of which is appreciated by the growing pupil. The Iliad and Odyssey teach them on every page.

Bravery and presence of mind, it is true, are commonly regarded as worldly, rather than as, in the strict sense, moral qualities. However that may be--and I, for one, am inclined to rank true courage and true presence of mind among the highest manifestations of the moral nature--these qualities when they show themselves in the young soon exert a favorable influence on the whole character, and serve especially to transform the att.i.tude of the child toward its parents. Hitherto the young child has been content to be the mere recipient of favors; as soon as the new consciousness of strength, the new sense of independence and manliness has developed, the son begins to feel that he would like to give to his parents as well as to receive from them; to be of use to his father, and to confer benefits, as far as he is able, in the shape of substantial services. These remarks will find their application in the a.n.a.lysis of the Odyssey, which we shall presently attempt.

The Odyssey is a tale of the sea. Ulysses is the type of sagacity, as well as of bravery, his mind teems with inventions. In the boy Telemachus we behold a son struggling to cut loose from his mother's leading-strings, and laudably ambitious to be of use to his parents. In the Odyssey we gain a distinct advance upon the moral results obtained from the study of the biblical stories. In the Bible it is chiefly the love of parents for their children which is dwelt upon, in the Odyssey the devotion of children to their parents; and this, of course, marks a later stage. In the Odyssey, too, the conjugal relation comes into the foreground. In the Bible, the love of the husband for his wife is repeatedly touched upon. But the love of the wife for the husband is not equally emphasized, and the relations between the two do not receive particular attention. The joint authority of both parents over their children is the predominant fact, the delicate bonds of feeling which subsist between the parents themselves are not in view. And this again corresponds to the earlier stage of childhood. The young child perceives the joint love which father and mother bear toward it, and feels the joint authority which they exercise over it. But as the child grows up, its eyes are opened to perceive more clearly the love which the parents bear to one another, and its affection for both is fed and the desire to serve them is strengthened by this new insight. Thus it is in the Odyssey. The yearning of Ulysses for his wife, the fidelity of Penelope during twenty years of separation, are the leading theme of the narrative, and the effect of this love upon their son is apparent throughout the poem.

Let us now consider the ethical elements of the Odyssey in some detail, arranging them under separate heads.

1. _Conjugal affection._ Ulysses has been for seven years a prisoner in the cave of Calypso. The nymph of the golden hair offers him the gift of immortality if he will consent to be her husband, but he is proof against her blandishments, and asks for nothing but to be dismissed, so that he may see his dear home and hold his own true wife once more in his arms.

"Apart upon the sh.o.r.e He sat and sorrowed. And oft in tears And sighs and vain repinings pa.s.sed the hours, Gazing with wet eyes on the barren deep."[14]

I would remark that, as the poem is too long to be read through entirely, and as there are pa.s.sages in it which should be omitted, it is advisable for the teacher to narrate the story, quoting, however, such pa.s.sages as give point to the narrative or have a special beauty of their own. Read the description of Calypso's cave v, 73, ff. Penelope meantime is patiently awaiting her husband's return. Read the pa.s.sages which describe her great beauty, especially that lovely word-picture in which she is described as standing by a tall column in the hall, a maid on either side, a veil hiding her l.u.s.trous face, while she addresses the suitors. The n.o.blest princes of Ithaca and the surrounding isles entreat her hand in marriage, and, thinking that Ulysses will never return, hold high revels in his house, and shamelessly consume his wealth. Read the pa.s.sage ii, 116-160, describing Penelope's device to put off the suitors, and at the same time to avert the danger which would have threatened her son in case she had openly broken with the chiefs. The love of Penelope is further set vividly before us by many delicate touches. Every stranger who arrives in Ithaca is hospitably entertained by the queen, and loaded with gifts, in the hope that he may bring her some news of her absent lord, and often she is deceived by wretches who speculate on her credulous grief. See the pa.s.sage xiv, 155. During the day she is busy with her household cares, overseeing her maids, and seeking to divert her mind by busy occupation; but at night the silence and the solitude become intolerable, and she weeps her eyes out on her lonely couch. How the love of Penelope influences her boy, who was a mere babe when his father left for Troy, how the whole atmosphere of the house is charged with the sense of expectancy of the master's return, is shown in the pa.s.sage ii, 439, where Telemachus says:

"Nurse, let sweet wine be drawn into my jars, The finest next to that which thou dost keep, Expecting our unhappy lord, if yet The n.o.bly born Ulysses shall escape The doom of death and come to us again."

The best cheer, the finest wine, the best of everything is kept ready against the father's home-coming, which may be looked for any day, if haply he has escaped the doom of death. There is one pa.s.sage in which we might suspect that the poet has intended to show the hardening effect of grief on Penelope's character, xv, 479. Penelope does not speak to her old servants any more; she pa.s.ses them by without a word, apparently without seeing them. She does not attend to their wants as she used to do, and they, in turn, do not dare to address her. But we may forgive this seeming indifference inasmuch as it only shows how completely she is absorbed by her sorrow.

A companion picture to the love of Ulysses and Penelope is to be found in the conjugal relation of Alcinous, king of Phaeacia, and his wife Arete, as described in the sixth book and the following. This whole episode is incomparably beautiful. Was there ever a more perfect embodiment of girlish grace and modesty, coupled with sweetest frankness, than Nausicaa? And what a series of lovely pictures is made to pa.s.s in quick succession before our eyes as we read the story! First, Nausicaa, moved by the desire to prepare her wedding garments against her unknown lover's coming, not ashamed to acknowledge the motive to her own pure heart, but veiling it discreetly before her mother; then the band of maidens setting out upon their picnic party, Nausicaa holding the reins; next the was.h.i.+ng of the garments, the bath, the game of ball, the sudden appearance of Ulysses, the flight of her companions, the brave girl being left to keep her place alone, with a courage born of pity for the stranger, and of virtuous womanhood.

"Alone The daughter of Alcinous kept her place, For Pallas gave her courage and forbade Her limb to tremble. So she waited there."

Who that has inhaled the fragrance of her presence from these pages can ever forget the white-armed Nausicaa! Then follows the picture of the palace, a feast for the imagination, the most magnificent description, I think, in the whole poem.

"For on every side beneath The lofty roof of that magnanimous king A glory shone as of the summer moons."

Read from l. 100-128, book vii. Next we witness the splendid hospitality proffered to the stranger guest. For again and again in this poem the n.o.ble sentiment is repeated, that the stranger and the poor are sent from Jove. Then we see Ulysses engaged in the games, outdoing the rest, or standing aside and watching "the twinkle of the dancer's feet." The language, too, used on these occasions is strikingly n.o.ble, so courteous and well-chosen, so simple and dignified, conveying rich meanings in the fewest possible words. What can be finer, e. g., than Nausicaa's farewell to Ulysses?

"Now, when the maids Had seen him bathed, and had anointed him With oil, and put his sumptuous mantle on, And tunic, forth he issued from the bath, And came to those who sat before their wine.

Nausicaa, G.o.ddess-like in beauty, stood Beside a pillar of that n.o.ble roof, And, looking on Ulysses as he pa.s.sed, Admired, and said to him in winged words-- 'Stranger, farewell, and in thy native land Remember thou hast owed thy life to me.'"

Nausicaa, it is evident, loves Ulysses; she stands beside a pillar, a favorite att.i.tude for beautiful women with Homer, and as Ulysses pa.s.ses, she addresses to him those few words so fraught with tenderness and renunciation. Ulysses's own speech to Arete, too, is a model of simplicity and dignity, possessing, it seems to me, something of the same quality which we admire in the speeches of Oth.e.l.lo. But throughout this narrative, pre-eminent above all the other figures in it is the figure of the queen herself, of Arete. Such a daughter as Nausicaa could only come from such a mother. To her Ulysses is advised to address his supplication. She is the wise matron, the peace-maker who composes the angry feuds of the men. And she possesses the whole heart and devotion of her husband.

"Her Alcinous made his wife And honored her as nowhere else on earth Is any woman honored who bears charge Over a husband's household. From their hearts Her children pay her reverence, and the king And all the people, for they look on her As if she were a G.o.ddess. When she goes Abroad into the streets, all welcome her With acclamations. Never does she fail In wise discernment, but decides disputes Kindly and justly between man and man.

And if thou gain her favor there is hope That thou mayst see thy friends once more."