The Moral Instruction of Children

The naturalistic element of the story is the changing of the prince into a toad and back again from a toad into a prince. Children are very fond of disguises. It is one of their greatest pleasures to imagine things to be other than they are. And one of the chief attractions of such stories as the one we have related is that they cater to the fondness of the little folks for this sort of masquerading. The moral elements of the story are obvious. They should be touched on in such a manner as not to divert the interest from the main story.

My third counsel is to eliminate from the stories whatever is merely superstitious, merely a relic of ancient animism, and of course whatever is objectionable on moral grounds. For instance, such a story as that of the idle spinner, the purport of which seems to be that there is a special providence watching over lazy people. Likewise all those stories which turn upon the success of trickery and cunning. A special question arising under this head, and one which has been the subject of much vexed discussion, is in how far we should acquaint children with the existence of evil in the world, and to what extent we can use stories in which evil beings and evil motives are introduced. My own view is that we should speak in the child's hearing only of those lesser forms of evil, physical or moral, with which it is already acquainted, but exclude all those forms of evil which lie beyond its present experience. On this ground I should reject the whole brood of step-mother stories, or rather, as this might make too wide a swath, I should take the liberty of altering stories in which the typical bad step-mother occurs, but which are otherwise valuable. There is no reason why children should be taught to look on step-mothers in general as evilly disposed persons. The same applies to stories in which unnatural fathers are mentioned. I should also rule out such stories as that of The Wolf and The Seven Little Goats. The mother goat, on leaving the house, warns her little ones against the wolf, and gives them two signs by which they can detect him – his hoarse voice and black paws. The wolf knocks and finds himself discovered. He thereupon swallows chalk to improve his voice and compels the miller to whiten his paws. Then he knocks again, is admitted, leaps into the room, and devours the little goats one by one. The story, as used in the nursery, has a transparent purpose. It is intended to warn little children who are left at home alone against admitting strangers. The wolf represents evil beings in general – tramps, burglars, people who come to kidnap children, etc. Now I, for one, should not wish to implant this fear of strangers into the minds of the young. Fear is demoralizing. Children should look with confidence and trust upon all men. They need not be taught to fear robbers and burglars. Even the sight of wild animals need not awaken dread. Children naturally admire the beauty of the tiger's skin, and the lion in their eyes is a noble creature, of whose ferocity they have no conception. It is time enough for them later on to familiarize themselves with the fact that evil of a sinister sort exists within human society and outside of it. And it will be safe for them to face this fact then only, when they can couple with it the conviction that the forces of right and order in the world are strong enough to grapple with the sinister powers and hold them in subjection.

And now let us review a number of the Märchen against which none of these objections lie, which are delicious food for children's minds, and consider the place they occupy in a scheme of moral training. It has been already stated that each period of human life has a set of duties peculiar to itself. The principal duties of childhood are: Obedience to parents, love and kindness toward brothers and sisters, a proper regard for the feelings of servants, and kindness toward animals. We can classify the fairy tales which we can use under these various heads. Let us begin with the topic last mentioned.

Tales illustrating Kindness toward Animals

The House in the Woods. – The daughter of a poor wood-cutter is lost in the woods, and comes at night to a lonely house. An old man is sitting within. Three animals – a cow, a cock, and a chicken – lie on the hearth. The child is made welcome, and is asked to prepare supper. She cooks for the old man and herself, but forgets the animals. The second daughter likewise goes astray in the woods, comes to the same house, and acts in the same way. The third daughter, a sweet, loving child, before sitting down to her own meal, brings in hay for the cow and barley for the cock and chicken, and by this act of kindness to animals breaks the spell which had been cast upon the house. The old man is immediately transformed into a prince, etc.

The Story of the Dog Sultan. – Sultan is old, and about to be shot by his master. The wolf, seeing his cousin the dog in such distress, promises to help him. He arranges that on the morrow he will seize a sheep belonging to Sultan's master. The dog is to run after him, and he, the wolf, will drop the sheep and Sultan shall get the credit of the rescue. Everything passes off as prearranged, and Sultan's life is spared by his grateful owner. Some time after the wolf comes prowling around the house, and, reminding his friend that one good turn deserves another, declares that he has now come for mutton in good earnest. But the dog replies that nothing can tempt him to betray the interests of his master. The wolf persists, but Sultan gives the alarm and the thief receives his due in the shape of a sound beating.

The point of special interest in the beautiful story of Snow-white and Rose-red above referred to is the incident of the bear. One cold winter's night some one knocks at the door. Snow-white and Rose-red go to open, when a huge black bear appears at the entrance and begs for shelter. He is almost frozen with the cold, he says, and would like to warm himself a bit. The two little girls are at first frightened, but, encouraged by their mother, they take heart and invite the bear into the kitchen. Soon a cordial friendship springs up between Bruin and the children. They brush the snow from his fur, tease, and caress him by turns. After this the bear returns every night, and finally turns out to be a beautiful prince.

The Story of the Queen Bee tells about three brothers who wander through the world in search of adventures. One day they come to an ant-hill. The two older brothers are about to trample upon the ants "just for the fun of it." But the youngest pleads with them, saying: "Let them live; their life is as dear to them as ours is to us." Next they come to a pond in which many ducks are swimming about. The two older brothers are determined to shoot the ducks "just for the fun of it." The youngest again pleads as before, "Let them live," etc. Finally, he saves a bee-hive from destruction in the same manner. Thus they journey on until they come to an enchanted castle. To break the spell, it is necessary to find and gather up a thousand pearls which had fallen on the moss-covered ground in a certain wood. Five thousand ants come to help the youngest to find the pearls. The second task imposed is to find a golden key which had been thrown into a pond near the castle. The grateful ducks bring up the key from the bottom. The third task is the most difficult. In one of the interior chambers of the castle there are three marble images – three princesses, namely, who had been turned into stone. Before the spell took effect they had partaken, respectively, of sugar, sirup, and honey. To restore them to life it is necessary to discover which one had eaten the honey. The Queen Bee comes in with all her swarm and lights on the lips of the youngest and so solves the problem. The enchantment is immediately dissolved. All these stories illustrate kindness to animals.

Among stories which illustrate the respect due to the feelings of servants may be mentioned the tale of Faithful John, who understood the language of the ravens and saved his master from the dangers of the red horse, etc., a story which in addition impresses the lesson that we should confide in persons who have been found trustworthy, even if we do not understand their motives. In the popular tale of Cinderella the points especially to be noted are: The pious devotion of Cinderella to her mother's memory, and the fact that the poor kitchen drudge, underneath the grime and ashes which disfigure her, possesses qualities which raise her far above the proud daughters of the house. The lesson taught by this story that we should distinguish intrinsic worth from the accidents of rank and condition, is one which can not be impressed too early or too deeply.

Under the heading of brotherly and sisterly love belongs the lovely tale of Snow-white. The little dwarfs are to all intents and purposes her brothers. They receive and treat her as a sister, and she returns their affection in kind.

The story of the Twelve Brothers, whom their sister redeems by seven years of silence at the peril of her own life, is another instance of tenderest sisterly devotion combined with self-control. This story, however, needs to be slightly altered. In place of the cruel father (we must not mention cruel fathers) who has got ready twelve coffins for his sons, in order that all the wealth of his kingdom may descend to his daughter, let us substitute the steward of the palace, who hopes by slaying the sons and winning the hand of the daughter, to become king himself.

Finally the story of Red Riding Hood illustrates the cardinal virtue of childhood —obedience to parents. Children must not loiter on the way when they are sent on errands. And Riding Hood loiters, and hence all the mischief which follows. She is sent to bring wine and cake to her grandmother. The example of such attentions as this serves to quicken in children the sentiment of reverence for the aged. Children learn reverence toward their parents in part by the reverence which these display toward the grandparents. Another point is that Red Riding Hood, to quiet her conscience, when she strays from the straight path deceives herself as to her motives. She says, "I will also gather a bunch of wild flowers to please grandmother." But her real purpose is to enjoy the freedom of the woods, and the proof is that presently she forgets all about grandmother. There is one objection that has sometimes been urged against this story, viz., the part which the wolf plays in it. But the wolf is not really treated as a hostile or fearful being. He meets Red Riding Hood on the way, and they chat confidentially together. He appears rather in the light of a trickster. But, it is objected, that he devours the grandmother and, later on, Red Riding Hood herself. Very true; but the curious fact is that, when his belly is cut open, the grandmother and Red Riding Hood come out intact. They have evidently not been injured. Children have very defective notions of the human body, with the exception of such external parts as hands, feet, and face. In an examination recently conducted by Prof. G. Stanley Hall in regard to the contents of childrens' minds at the time they enter school, it was found that ninety per cent of those questioned had no idea where the heart is located, eighty-one per cent did not know anything about the lungs, ninety per cent could not tell where their ribs are situated, etc. Of the internal organs children have no idea. Hence when the story says that the grandmother is swallowed by the wolf, the impression created is that she has been forced down into a sort of dark hole, and that her situation, while rather uncomfortable, no doubt, is not otherwise distressing. The ideas of torn and mangled flesh are not suggested. Hence the act of devouring arouses no feeling of horror, and the story of Red Riding Hood, that prime favorite of all young children, may be related without any apprehension as to its moral effect.

Then there are other stories, such as that of the man who went abroad to learn the art of shuddering – an excellent example of bravery; the story of the seven Suabians – a persiflage of cowardice; the story of the Marienkind which contains a wholesome lesson against obstinacy, etc. I have not, of course, attempted to cover the whole ground, but only to mention a few examples sufficient to show along what lines the selection may be made. The ethical interests peculiar to childhood are the heads under which the whole material can be classified.

The value of the fairy tales is that they stimulate the imagination; that they reflect the unbroken communion of human life with the life universal, as in beasts, fishes, trees, flowers, and stars; and that incidentally, but all the more powerfully on that account, they quicken the moral sentiments.

Let us avail ourselves freely of the treasures which are thus placed at our disposal. Let us welcome das Märchen into our primary course of moral training, that with its gentle bands, woven of "morning mist and morning glory," it may help to lead our children into the bright realms of the ideal.

VII.

THE USE OF FABLES

The collection of fables which figures under the name of Æsop has to a very remarkable degree maintained its popularity among children, and many of its typical characters have been adopted into current literature, such as the Dog in the Manger, the Wolf in Sheep's Clothing, King Log, and King Stork, and others. Recent researches have brought to light the highly interesting fact that these fables are of Asiatic origin. A collection of Indian and, it is believed, Buddhist fables and stories traveled at an early period into Persia, where it became known as the Pancha-Tantra. The Pancha-Tantra was translated into Arabic, and became the source of the voluminous Kalilah-wa-Dimnah literature. The Arabic tales in turn migrated into Europe at the time of the Crusades and were rendered into Greek, Hebrew, and Latin. In this form they became accessible to the nations of Europe, were extensively circulated, and a collection of them was wrongly, but very naturally, ascribed to a famous story-teller of the ancient Greeks – i. e., to Æsop. The arguments on which this deduction is based may be found in Rhys Davids's introduction to his English translation of the Jātaka Tales.8 This author speaks of Æsop's fables as a first moral lesson-book for our children in the West. We shall have to consider in how far this description is correct – that is to say, in how far we can use the fables for moral purposes. The point to be kept in mind is their Asiatic origin, as this will at once help us to separate the fables which we can use from those which must be rejected. A discrimination of this sort is absolutely necessary. I am of the opinion that it is a serious mistake to place the whole collection as it stands in the hands of children.

To decide this question we must study the milieu in which the fables arose, the spirit which they breathe, the conditions which they reflect. The conditions they reflect are those of an Oriental despotism. They depict a state of society in which the people are cruelly oppressed by tyrannical rulers, and the weak are helpless in the hands of the strong. The spirit which they breathe is, on the whole, one of patient and rather hopeless submission. The effect upon the reader as soon as he has caught this clew, this Leitmotiv, which occurs in a hundred variations, is very saddening. I must substantiate this cardinal point by a somewhat detailed analysis. Let us take first the fable of the Kite and the Pigeons. A kite had been sailing in the air for many days near a pigeon-house with the intention of seizing the pigeons; at last he had recourse to stratagem. He expressed his deep concern at their unjust and unreasonable suspicions of himself, as if he intended to do them an injury. He declared that, on the contrary, he had nothing more at heart than the defense of their ancient rights and liberties, and ended by proposing that they should accept him as their protector, their king. The poor, simple pigeons consented. The kite took the coronation oath in a very solemn manner. But much time had not elapsed before the good kite declared it to be a part of the king's prerogative to devour a pigeon now and then, and the various members of his family adhered to the same view of royal privilege. The miserable pigeons exclaimed: "Ah, we deserve no better. Why did we let him in!"

The fable of the Wolf in Sheep's Clothing conveys essentially the same idea. The fable of the Lion and the Deer illustrates the exorbitant exactions practiced by despots. A fat deer was divided into four parts. His majesty the lion proposed that they be suitably apportioned. The first part he claimed for himself on account of his true hereditary descent from the royal family of Lion; the second he considered properly his own because he had headed the hunt; the third he took in virtue of his prerogative; and finally he assumed a menacing attitude, and dared any one to dispute his right to the fourth part also.

In the fable of the Sick Lion and the Fox, the fox says: "I see the footprints of beasts who have gone into the cave, but of none that have come out." The fable of the Cat and the Mice expresses the same thought, namely, that it is necessary to be ever on one's guard against the mighty oppressors even when their power seems for the time to have deserted them. The cat pretends to be dead, hoping by this means to entice the mice within her reach. A cunning old mouse peeps over the edge of the shelf, and says: "Aha, my good friend, are you there? I would not trust myself with you though your skin were stuffed with straw."

The fable of King Log and King Stork shows what a poor choice the people have in the matter of their kings. First they have a fool for their king, a mere log, and they are discontented. Then Stork ascends the throne, and he devours them. It would have been better if they had put up with the fool. The injustice of despotic rulers is exemplified in the fable of the Kite and the Wolf. The kite and the wolf are seated in judgment. The dog comes before them to sue the sheep for debt. Kite and wolf, without waiting for the evidence, give sentence for the plaintiff, who immediately tears the poor sheep into pieces and divides the spoil with the judges. The sort of thanks which the people get when they are foolish enough to come to the assistance of their masters, is illustrated by the conduct of the wolf toward the crane. The wolf happened to have a bone sticking in his throat, and, howling with pain, promised a reward to any one who should relieve him. At last the crane ventured his long neck into the wolf's throat and plucked out the bone. But when he asked for his reward, the wolf glared savagely upon him, and said: "Is it not enough that I refrained from biting off your head?" How dangerous it is to come at all into close contact with the mighty, is shown in the fable of the Earthen and the Brazen Pot. The brazen pot offers to protect the earthen one as they float down stream. "Oh," replies the latter, "keep as far off as ever you can, if you please; for, whether the stream dashes you against me or me against you, I am sure to be the sufferer."

The fables which we have considered have for their theme the character of the strong as exhibited in their dealings with the weak. A second group is intended to recommend a certain policy to be pursued by the weak in self-protection. This policy consists either in pacifying the strong by giving up to them voluntarily what they want, or in flight, or, if that be impossible, in uncomplaining submission. The first expedient is recommended in the fable of the Beaver. A beaver who was being hard pressed by a hunter and knew not how to escape, suddenly, with a great effort, bit off the part which the hunter desired, and, throwing it toward him, by this means escaped with his life. The expedient of flight is recommended in the fable of Reynard and the Cat. Reynard and the cat one day were talking politics in the forest. The fox boasted that though things might turn out never so badly, he had still a thousand tricks to play before they should catch him. The cat said: "I have but one trick, and if that does not succeed I am undone." Presently a pack of hounds came upon them full cry. The cat ran up a tree and hid herself among the top branches. The fox, who had not been able to get out of sight, was overtaken despite his thousand tricks and torn to pieces by the hounds. The fable of the Oak and the Reed teaches the policy of utter, uncomplaining submission. The oak refuses to bend, and is broken. The supple reed yields to the blast, and is safe. Is it not a little astonishing that this fable should so often be related to children as if it contained a moral which they ought to take to heart? To make it apply at all, it is usually twisted from its proper signification and explained as meaning that one should not be fool-hardy, not attempt to struggle against overwhelming odds. But this is not the true interpretation. The oak is by nature strong and firm, while it is the nature of the reed to bend to every wind. The fable springs out of the experience of a people who have found resistance against oppression useless. And this sort of teaching we can not, of course, wish to give to our children. I should certainly prefer that a child of mine should take the oak, and not the reed, for his pattern. The same spirit is again inculcated in the fable of the Wanton Calf. The wanton calf sneers at the poor ox who all day long bears the heavy yoke patiently upon his neck. But in the evening it turns out that the ox is unyoked, while the calf is butchered. The choice seems to lie between subserviency and destruction. The fable of the Old Woman and her Maids suggests the same conclusion, with the warning added that it is useless to rise against the agents of tyranny so long as the tyrants themselves can not be overthrown. The cock in the fable represents the agents of oppression. The killing of the cock serves only to bring the mistress herself on the scene, and the lot of the servants becomes in consequence very much harder than it had been before.

We have now considered two groups of fables: those which depict the character of the mighty, and those which treat of the proper policy of the weak. The subject of the third group is, the consolations of the weak. These are, first, that even tyrannical masters are to a certain extent dependent upon their inferiors, and can be punished if they go too far; secondly, that the mighty occasionally come to grief in consequence of dissensions among themselves; thirdly, that fortune is fickle. A lion is caught in the toils, and would perish did not a little mouse come to his aid by gnawing asunder the knots and fastenings. The bear robs the bees of their honey, but is punished and rendered almost desperate by their stings. An eagle carries off the cub of a fox; but the fox, snatching a fire-brand, threatens to set the eagle's nest on fire, and thus forces him to restore her young one. This is evidently a fable of insurrection. The fable of the Viper and the File shows that it is not safe to attack the wrong person – in other words, that tyrants sometimes come to grief by singling out for persecution some one who is strong enough to resist them though they little suspect it. The fable of the four bulls shows the effect of dissensions among the mighty. Four bulls had entered into a close alliance, and agreed to keep always near one another. A lion fomented jealousies among them. The bulls grew distrustful of one another, and at last parted company. The lion had now obtained his end, and seized and devoured them singly. The fickleness of fortune is the theme of the fable of the Horse and the Ass. The horse, richly caparisoned and champing his foaming bridle, insults an ass who moves along under a heavy load. Soon after the horse is wounded, and, being unfit for military service, is sold to a carrier. The ass now taunts the proud animal with his fallen estate. The horse in this fable is the type of many an Eastern vizier, who has basked for a time in the sunshine of a despot's favor only to be suddenly and ignominiously degraded. The ass in the fable represents the people. There remains a fourth group of fables, which satirize certain mean or ridiculous types of characters, such as are apt to appear in social conditions of the kind we have described. Especially do the fables make a target of the folly of those who affect the manners of the aristocratic class, or who try to crowd in where they are not wanted, or who boast of their high connections. The frog puffs himself up so that he may seem as large as the ox, until he bursts. The mouse aspires to marry the young lioness, and is in fact well received; but the young lady inadvertently places her foot on her suitor and crushes him. The jackdaw picks up feathers which have fallen from the peacocks, sticks them among his own, and introduces himself into the assembly of those proud birds. They find him out, strip him of his plumes, and with their sharp bills punish him as he deserves. A fly boasts that he frequents the most distinguished company, and that he is on familiar terms with the king, the priests, and the nobility. Many a time, he says, he has entered the royal chamber, has sat upon the altar, and has even enjoyed the privilege of kissing the lips of the most beautiful maids of honor. "Yes," replies an ant, "but in what capacity are you admitted among all these great people? One and all regard you as a nuisance, and the sooner they can get rid of you the better they are pleased."