Education

With such a training, the development of free personality was impossible. In China, the family, with its sacred traditions and its ancestor-worship was controlled by the State; in Egypt by the priesthood; in India by the different castes. There was, doubtless, in the Oriental mind a consciousness of personality; but no effort was made to strengthen it and give it value. On the contrary, the Hindu philosophy, which regarded knowledge as the means of redemption from the miseries of life, placed that redemption itself in nirvana, the extinction of the individual through absorption into the being of the world. The position of women was, in general, a degraded one. Though the early training of the child devolved upon the mother, her responsibility brought with it no dignity. But little provision was made for the education of girls; their only vocation was to marry, bear children, and render service to the head of the family.

In view of these facts, it cannot be said that education as the Western world conceives it owes any great debt to the East. It is true that some of the sciences, mathematics, astronomy, and chronology, and some of the arts, as sculpture and architecture, were carried to a certain degree of perfection; but the very success of Oriental ability and skill in these lines only emphasizes by contrast the deficiencies of Oriental education. Even in the sphere of morality the same antagonism appears between precept and practice. It cannot and need not be denied that many of the sayings, e.g. of Confucius, evince a high ideal of virtue, while some of the Hindu proverbs, such as those of the "Pantscha-tantra", are full of practical wisdom. Yet these facts only make it more difficult to answer the question: Why was the actual living of these people so far removed from the formally accepted standards of virtue? Nevertheless, Oriental education has a peculiar significance; it shows quite plainly the consequences of sacrificing the individual to the interests of human institutions, and of reducing education to a machine like process, the aim of which is to mould all minds upon one unchanging pattern; and it further shows how little can be accomplished for real education by despotic authority, which demands, and is satisfied with, an outward observance of custom and law. (See Davidson. A History of Education, New York, 1901.)

If the education of the Oriental peoples was stationary, that of the Greeks exhibits a progressive development which passes from one extreme to another through a variety of movements and reactions, of ideals and practice. What remains constant throughout is the idea that the purpose of education is to train youth for citizenship. This, however, was conceived, and its realization attempted, in different ways by the several City-States. In Sparta, the child, according to the Code of Lycurgus, was the property of the State. From his seventh year onward he received a public training whose one object was to make him a soldier, by developing physical strength, courage, self control, and obedience to law. It was a hard training in gymnastic exercises, with little attention to the intellectual side and less to the æsthetic; even music and dancing took on a military character. Girls were subjected to the same severe discipline, not so much to emphasize the equality of the sexes as to train the sturdy mothers of a warrior race.

The ideal of Athenian education was the completely developed man. Beauty of mind and body, the cultivation of every inborn faculty and energy, harmony between thought and life, decorum, temperance, and regularity — such were the results aimed at in the home and in the school, in social intercourse, and in civic relation. "We are lovers of the beautiful", said Pericles, "yet simple in our tastes, and we cultivate the mind without the loss of manliness" (Thucydides, II, 40). The means of culture were music and gymnastics, the former including history, poetry, the drama, oratory, and science, along with music in the narrower sense; while the latter comprised games, athletic exercises, and the training for military duty. That music was no mere "accomplishment" and that gymnastics had a higher aim than bodily strength or skill is evident from what Plato tells us in the Protagoras. The Greeks indeed laid stress on courage, temperance, and obedience to law; and if their theoretical disquisitions could be taken as fair accounts of their actual practice, it would be difficult to find, among the products of human thinking, a more exalted ideal. The essential weakness of their moral education was the failure to provide adequate sanction for the principles they formulated and for the counsels they gave to youth. The practice of religion, whether in public services or in household worship exerted but little influence upon the formation of character. The Greek deities, after all, were no models for imitation; some of them could scarcely have been objects of reverence, since they were endowed with the weaknesses and passions of men. Religion itself was mechanical and external; it did not touch conscience nor awaken the sense of sin. As to the future life, the Greeks believed in the immortality of the soul; but this belief had little or no practical significance. Thus the motive for virtuous action was found, not in respect for Divine law nor in the hope of eternal reward, but simply in the desire to temper in due proportion the elements of human nature. Virtue is not self-repression for the sake of duty, but, as Plato says, "a kind of health, and beauty and good habit of the soul"; while vice is "a disease and deformity and sickness of it." The just man

will so regulate his own character as to be on good terms with himself, and to set those three principles (reasons, passion, and desire) in tune together, as if they were verily three chords of a harmony, a higher, and a lower, and a middle, and whatever may lie between these; and after he had bound all these together and reduced the many elements of his nature to a real unity as a temperate and duly harmonized man, he will then at length proceed to do whatever he may have to do. (Republic, IV, 443)

This conception of virtue as a self-balancing was closely bound up with that idea of personal worth which has already been mentioned as the central element in Greek life and education. But the personality referred to was not that of man for the sake of his humanity, nor even that of the Greek for the sake of his nationality; it was the personality of the free citizen, and from citizenship the artisan and the slaves were excluded. The mechanical arts were held in bad repute; and Aristotle declares that "they render the body and soul or intellect of free persons unfit for the exercise and practice of virtue" (Politics, V, 1337). A still more serious limitation, affecting not only their concept of human dignity, but their regard for human life as well, consisted in the exposure of children. This was practised at Sparta by the public authority, which destroyed the child that was unfit for the service of the State; while at Athens the fate of his offspring was committed to the father and might be decided in accordance with purely personal interests. The mother's position was not much better than it had been in the Orient. Women were generally regarded as inferior beings, "impotent for good, but clever contrivers of all evil" (Euripdes, Medea, 406). At best she was a means to an end, the bearing of children and the care of the household; her education consequently was of the scantiest sort. The only exceptions were the hetaerae, i.e. the women who were outside the home circle and who with greater freedom of living combined higher culture than the legitimate wife could hope for. Under such circumstances marriage implied for woman a lowering of personal worth that was in marked contrast with the ideals set up for the education of men.

These ideals, again, underwent a decided change during the fifth century B.C. In one respect at least it was a change for the better; it extended the rights of citizenship. The constitution of Solon was set aside and that of Clisthenes adopted in its stead (509 B.C.) The democratic character of the latter, with the increase in prosperity at home and the widening of foreign relations, afforded new opportunities for individual ability and endeavour. This heightened activity, however, was not put forth in behalf of the common good, but rather for the advancement of personal interests. At the same time morality was deprived of even the outward support it had formerly drawn from religion; philosophy gave way to scepticism; and education, while it became more intellectual, laid emphasis on form rather than on content. The most influential teachers were the Sophists, who supplied the growing demand for instruction in the art of public discussion and offered information on every sort of subject. Developing in practical directions the principle that "man is the measure of all things", they carried individualism to the extreme of subjectivism alike in the sphere of speculative thought and in that of moral conduct. The purposes of education were correspondingly modified, and new problems arose. Now that the old standards and basis of morality had been rejected, the main question was to replace them by others in which due allowance would be made on the one hand for individuality and on the other for social needs. The answer of Socrates was: "Know thyself" and "Knowledge is virtue", i.e. a knowledge drawn from personal experience, yet possessing universal validity; and the means prescribed by him for obtaining such knowledge was his maieutics, i.e. the art of giving birth to ideas through the method of question and answer, by which he developed the power of thinking. As an intellectual discipline, this scheme had undoubted value; but it left unsolved the chief problem; how is knowledge, even of the highest kind, to be translated into action? Plato offered a twofold solution. In the Republic, setting out from his general theory that the idea alone is real, and that the good of each thing consists in harmony with the idea when it originated, he reaches the conclusion that knowledge consists in the perception of this harmony. The aim of education, therefore, is to develop knowledge of the good. So far, this scheme contains little more promise of practical results than that of Socrates. But Plato adds that society is to be ruled by those who attain to this knowledge, i.e. by the philosophers; the other two classes, soldiers, and artisans, are subordinate, yet each individual being assigned to the class for which his abilities fit him, reaches the highest self-development and contributes his share to the social weal. In the Laws, Plato attempts to revise and combine certain elements of the Spartan and of the Athenian system but this reactionary scheme met with no success.

This problem, finally, was taken up by Aristotle in the Ethics and the Politics. As in his philosophy, so in his educational theory, he departs from Plato's teaching. The goal for the individual as well as for society is happiness: "What we have to aim at is for the happiness of each citizen, and happiness consists in a complete activity and practice of virtue" (Politics, IV). More precisely, happiness is "the conscious activity of the highest part of man according to the law of his own excellence, not unaccompanied by adequate, external conditions." Merely to know the good does not constitute virtue; this knowledge must issue in practice the goodness of the intellect (knowledge of universal truth) must be combined with goodness of action. The three things which make men good and virtuous — nature, habit, and reason —

must be in harmony with one another (for they do not always agree); men do many things against habit and nature, if reason persuades them that they ought. We have already determined what natures are likely to be most easily moulded by the hands of the legislator. All else is the work of education; we learn some things by habit and some by instruction. (Politics, Bk. VII)

Education, however, must always be adapted to the peculiar character of the State: "The citizen should be moulded to suit the form of government under which he lives" (ibid., VIII). And again, "It is right that the citizens should possess a capacity for affairs and for war, but still more for the enjoyment of peace or leisure; right that they should be capable of such actions as are indispensable and salutary, but still more of such as are moral per se. It is with a view to these objects, then, that they should be educated while they are still children, and at all other ages, till they pass beyond the need of education" (ibid., IV). "Neither must we suppose that any one of the citizens belongs to himself, for they all belong to the State, and are each of them a part of the State, and the care of each part is inseparable from the care of the whole" (ibid., VII).

In the theories of Plato and Aristotle are found the highest reaches of hellenic thought regarding the purpose and nature of education. Each of these great thinkers established schools of philosophy, and each has profoundly affected the thought of all subsequent time, yet neither succeeded in providing an education sound and permanent enought to avert the moral and political downfall of the nation. The diffusion of Greek thought and culture throughout the world by conquest and colonization was no remedy for the evils which sprang from an exaggerated individualism. Once the idea was accepted that each man is his own standard of conduct, neither brilliancy of literary production nor fineness of philosophic speculation could prevent the decay of patriotism, and of a virtue which had never looked higher than the State for its sanction. Aristotle himself, at the close of his Ethics, points out the radical difficulty:

Now if arguments and theories were able by themselves to make people good, they would, in the words of Theognis, be entitled to receive high and great rewards, and it is with theories that we should have to provide ourselves. But the truth apparently is that, though they are strong enough to encourage and stimulate young men of liberal minds, though they are able to inspire with goodness a character that is naturally noble and sincerely loves the beautiful, they are incapable of converting the mass of men to goodness and beauty of character.

No such "conversion" was aimed at by the Sophists. Appealing to the natural tendencies of the individual, they developed a spirit of selfishness which in turn broke out in discord, thus opening the way for the conquest of Greece by Roman arms.

In striking contrast with the Greek character, that of the Romans was practical, utilitarian, grave, austere. Their religion was serious, and it permeated their whole life, hallowing all its relations. The family, especially, was far more sacred than in Sparta or Athens, and the position of woman as wife and mother more exalted and influential. Still, as with the Greeks, the power of the father over the life of his child — patria potestas — was absolute, and, in the earlier period at least, the exposure of children was a common practice. In fact the laws of the Twelve Tables provided for the immediate destruction of deformed offspring and gave the father, during the whole life of his children, the right to imprison, sell, or slay them. Subsequently, however, a check was placed on such practices. The ideal at which the Roman aimed was neither harmony nor happiness, but the performance of duty and the maintenance of his rights. Yet this ideal was to be realized through service to the State. Deep as was the family feeling, it was always subordinate to devotion to the public weal. "Parents are dear," said Cicero, "and children and kindred, but all loves are bound up in the love of our common country" (DeOfficiis, I, 17). Education therefore was essentially a preparation for civic duty. "The children of the Romans are brought up that they may one day be able to be of service to the fatherland, and one must accordingly instruct them in the customs of the State and in the institutions of their ancestors. The fatherland has produced and brought us up that we may devote to its use the finest capacities of our mind, talent, and understanding. Therefore we must learn those arts whereby we may be of greatest service to the State; for that I hold to be the highest wisdom and virtue."

These words express, at any rate, the spirit of the early Roman education. The home was the early school, and the parents the only teachers. Of scientific and æsthetic training there was little or none. To learn the Laws of the Twelve Tables, to become familiar with the lives of the men who had made Rome great and to copy the virtues which he saw in the father were the chief endeavour of the boy and youth. Thus the moral element predominated, and virtues of a practical sort were inculcated: first of all pietas, obedience to parents and to the gods: then prudence, fair dealing, courage, reverence, firmness, and earnestness or philosophical reasoning, but through the imitation of worthy models and, as far as possible, of living and concrete examples. Vitæ discimus, "We learn for life," said Seneca; and this phrase sums up the whole purpose of Roman education. In the course of time, elementary schools (ludi) were opened, but they were conducted by private teachers and were supplemented to the home instruction. About the middle of the third century B.C. foreign influence began to make themselves felt. The works of the Greeks translated into Latin, Greek teachers were introduced and schools established in which the educational characteristics of the Greeks reappeared. Under the direction of the literatus and the grammaticus education took on a literary character, while in the school of the rhetor the art of oratory was carefully cultivated. The importance which the Romans attached to eloquence is clearly shown by Cicero in his "De Oratore" and by Quintilian in his "Institutes"; to produce the orator became eventually the chief end of education. Quintilian's work, moreover, is the principal contribution to educational theory produced in Rome. The hellenizing process was a gradual one. The vigorous Roman character yielded but slowly to the intellectualism of the Greeks, and when the latter finally triumphed, far-reaching changes had come about in Roman society government, and life. Whatever the causes of decline — political, economic, or moral — they could not be stayed by the imported refinement of Greek thought and practice. Nevertheless, pagan education as a whole, with its ideals, successes, and failures, has a profound significance. It was the practical, that the world has known. It pursued in turn the ideals that appeal most strongly to the human mind. It engaged the thought of the greatest philosophers and the action of the wisest legislators. Art, science, and literature were placed at its service, and the mighty influence of the State was exerted in its behalf. In itself, therefore, and in its results, it shows how much and how little human reason can accomplish when it seeks no guidance higher than itself and strives for no purposes other than those which find, or may find, their realization in the present phase of existence.

Among the pre-Christian peoples the Jews occupy a unique position. As the recipients and custodians of Divine revelation, their conception of life and morality were far above those of the Gentiles. God manifested Himself to them directly as a Person, a Spirit, and an ethical Being, guiding them by His providence, making known to them His will, and prescribing the minutest details of life and religious practice. Throughout the Old Testament, God appears as the teacher of His chosen people. He sets before them a standard of righteousness which in none other than Himself: "You shall be holy, because I am holy" (Leviticus 11:46). Through Moses and the Prophets He gives them His Commandments and the promises of a Messiah to come. But He also placed upon them the duty of instructing their children.

Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God is one Lord. Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with they whole strength. And these words which I command thee this day, shall be in thy heart: and thou shalt tell them to thy children, and thou shalt meditate upon them sitting in thy house, and walking on thy journey, sleeping and rising. (Deuteronomy 6:4-7)

In accordance with this injunction, education, at least in the earlier period, was given chiefly in the home. Jewish family life, indeed, far surpassed that of the Gentiles in the purity of its relations, in the position it secured to woman, and in the care which it bestowed on children, who were regarded as a blessing vouchsafed by God and destined for His service by fidelity to the Divine law. An important function of the synagogue also was the instruction of youth, which was committed to the scribes and the doctors. Schools, as such, came into existence only in the later period, and even then the teaching was permeated by religion. Though the Old Testament, contains no theory of education in the stricter sense, it abounds in maxims and principles which are all the more weighty because they are inspired by Divine wisdom and because they have a practical bearing upon life. God Himself showed the dignity of the teacher's office when he declared: "They that are learned shall shine as the brightness of the firmament: and they that instruct many to justice, as stars for all eternity" (Daniel 12:3). In the light, however, of a more perfect revelation, it is clear that God's dealings with Israel had an ultimate purpose which was to be realized "in the fullness of time." Not only the utterances of the Prophets, but many signal events in the history of the Jews and many of their ritual observances were types of the Messiah; as St. Paul says, "All these things happened to them in figure" (1 Corinthians 10:11), and "The law was our pedagogue in Christ" (Galatians 3:24). As the Supreme Teacher of mankind, God, while imparting to them the truth which they presently needed, also prepared the way for the greater truths of the Gospel.

As in many other respects so for the work of education, the advent of Christianity is the most important epoch in the history of mankind. Not only does the Christian conception of life differ radically from the pagan view, not only does the Christian teaching impart a new sort of knowledge and lay down a new principle of action, but Christianity, moreover, supplies the effectual means of making its ideals actual and of carrying its precepts into practice. Through all vicissitudes of conflict and adjustment, of changing civilizations and varying opinions, in spite even of the shortcomings of its own adherents, Christianity has steadfastly held up before men the life and the lessons of its Divine Founder.

Jesus Christ as teacher

"God who, at sundry-times and in divers manners, spoke in times past to the fathers by the prophets, last of all, in these days hath spoken to us by his Son" (Hebrews 1:1-2). This communication through the God-Man was to reveal the true way of living: "The grace of God our Saviour hath appeared to all men; instructing us, that, denying ungodliness and worldly desires, we should live soberly, and justly, and godly in this world, looking for the blessed hope and coming of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ" (Titus 2:11-12). Of Himself and His mission Christ declared, "I am come a light into the world; that whosoever believeth in me, may not remain in darkness" (John 12:46); and again, "For this was I born, and for this came I into the world; that I should give testimony to the truth" (John 18:37). The knowledge which He came to impart was no mere intellectual possession or theory: "I am come that they may have life, and may have it more abundantly" (John 10:10). He taught therefore, as one "having authority"; He insisted that His heirs should believe the truths which He taught, even though these might seem to be "hard sayings." His doctrines, indeed, made no appeal either to pride of intellect or to selfishness or to passion. For the most part, as in the Sermon on the Mount, they were dramatically opposed to the maxims that had obtained in the pagan world. They were, in the highest sense, supernatural, not only in proposing eternal life as the ultimate goal of man's existence and action, but also in enjoining the denial of self as the chief requisite for attaining that destiny. Service to the neighbor was insisted upon, but this was to be rendered in the spirit of love, the new commandments which Christ gave (John 13:34). Faithfulness also to civic duty was required, but the sanction which imparted force to such obligation was man's elevation to a higher citizenship in the Kindgom of God. To strive after this and to realize it in one's earthly life, so far as possible, was the ideal to which every other good was subordinate; "Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his justice, and all these things shall be added unto you" (Matthew 6:33).

Truths of this kind, so far removed from the natural tendencies of human thought and desire, could be imparted only by one who embodied in himself all the qualifications of a perfect teacher. The philosophers no doubt might, and did, formulate beautiful theories regarding knowledge and virtue; but Christ alone could say to His disciples: "I am the way, the truth, and the life" (John 14:6). And whatever worth they attached in theory to personality was of far less ideal in Christ's own Person. He could thus rightfully appeal to that imitative tendency which is so deeply rooted in man's nature and from which so much is expected in modern education. The axiom, also, that we learn by doing and that knowledge gets its full value only when it issues in action, finds its best exemplification in Christ's dealings with His disciples. He "began to do and to teach" (Acts 1:1). In His miracles he gave evidence of His power over all nature and therefore of His authority to require faith in His words: "The works themselves which I do give testimony of me, that the Father hath sent me" (John 5:36). To His disciples, when they hesitated or were slow to realize that the Father abided in Him, the answer was given: "Otherwise believe for the very works' sake" (xiv, 12). What He demanded in turn was no mere outward profession of faith or loyalty: "Not every one that saith to me Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doth the will of my Father" (Matthew 7:21).

The necessity of manifesting belief through action is constantly pointed out both in the literal teaching of Christ and in His parables. These, again, illustrate His practical wisdom as a teacher. They were drawn from objects and circumstances with which His hearers were familiar. In each instance they were adapted to the manner of thinking suggested by the local surroundings and the customs of the people; and they were often called forth by an incident that seemed unimportant or by a question which was asked now by His followers and again by His tireless enemies. Thus the simplest things of nature — the vine, the lily, the fig-tree, the birds of the air, and the grass of the field — were made to yield lessons of the deepest moral significance. His aim was not to adorn His own discourse, but rather to bring its content into the minds of his hearers more vividly, and to secure for it greater permanence by associating in their thought some supernatural truth with the facts of daily experience. Sensory perception, memory, and imagination were thus developed to form a mental setting for the great truths of the Kindgom. The same principle found its appreciation in the institution of the sacraments whereby natural elements are made the outward signs of inward grace. As St. John Chrysostom aptly says,

If you were incorporeal, he would have bestowed on you incorporeal gifts in their bare reality; but because the soul is bound up with the body, he gives you intelligible things under sensible forms. (Homilia, lx, as populum Antioch)

In fact the whole teaching of Christ is the clearest proof of the principle that education must adapt itself in method and practice to the needs of those who are to be taught. In accordance with this principle He prepared the minds of His followers beforehand for the institution of the Holy Eucharist for His own death, and for the coming of the Holy Ghost (John 6:14-15); and he even reserved certain truths to be made known by the Paraclete: "I have yet many things to say to you: but you cannot bear them now. But when he, the Spirit of truth, is come, he will teach you all truth" (xvi, 12, 13). Thus the completion of His work as a teacher is left not to human conjecture or speculation, nor to the theories of philosophical schools, but to the Spirit of God Himself. This of course was best realized by those who were nearest to Him; yet even those of the Jews who were not among the Apostles, but were, like Nicodemus, disposed to judge fairly, confessed His superiority: "We know that thou art come a teacher from God; for no man can do these signs which thou dost, unless God be with him" (John 3:2).

The aim of Christian education

Had Christ's mission ended when He quitted the earth, He would still have been in word and work the ideal teacher, and would have influenced for all time the education of mankind so far as its ultimate aims and basic principles are concerned. But as a matter of fact, He made ample provision for the perpetuation of His work by training a select body of men who for three years were constantly under His direction and were thoroughly imbued with His spirit. To these Apostles, moreover He gave the command: "Going therefore, teach ye all nations . . . . and behold I am with you all days, even to the consummation of the world" (Matthew 27:19-20). These words are the charter of the Christian Church as a teaching institution. While they refer directly to the doctrine of salvation, and therefore to the imparting of religious truth, they nevertheless, or rather by the very nature of that truth and its consequences for life, carry with them the obligation of insisting on certain principles and maintaining certain characteristics which have a decisive bearing on all educational problems.

1. The truth of Christianity is to be made known to all men. It is not confined to any one race or nation or class, nor is it to be the exclusive possession of highly gifted minds. This characteristic of universality is in plain contrast with the highest conceptions of the pagan world. The cultured Greek had only contempt for the barbarian, and the Roman looked upon outside nations a subjects to be governed rather than as people to be taught. But at Athens also and at Rome there was the distinction between free citizens and slaves, in consequence of which the latter were excluded from the benefits of education. As against these narrow limitations Christ charged His apostles to "teach all men"; and St. Paul, in the same spirit, professes himself a debtor to all men, Greeks and barbarians, the wise and the unwise alike. All, in fact, were to be dealt with as children of the same Heavenly Father and heirs of the Kingdom of God. In respect of these supernatural perogatives, the distinctions which had hitherto prevailed were set aside: Christianity appeared as one vast school with mankind at large for its disciples.

2. The commission given to the Apostles was not to expire with them; it was to remain in force "all days, even to the consummation of the world." Perpetuity, therefore, is an essential feature in the educational work of Christianity. The institution of paganism had indeed flourished and advanced from phase to phase of development, but they did not contain the element of enduring vitality. In the higher departments of learning, as in philosophy, school had followed school into vigour and into decay. And in education itself, one ideal after another had been put forward only to be displaced. Christianity, on the contrary, while it could never become a rigid system, held up to mankind certain unchangeable truths which should serve as criteria for determining the value of every fundamental theory of life and of education. By insisting, especially, that man's destiny was to be attained, not in any form of temporal service or success but in union with God, it proposed an ideal which should be valid for all time and amid all the variations of human thought and endeavour. That such changes would inevitably come to pass, Christ, without doubt, foresaw. In view of these, a merely human teacher would have provided for the stability of his work by devices which would, if successful, have attested his foresight, or shrewdness, or knowledge of human nature. But Christ's guarantee to the Apostles is at once simpler and surer: "Behold I am with you all days." The task of instructing the world in Christian truth would have been impossible but for this permanent abiding of Christ with His appointed teachers. On the other hand, once the force of His promise is realized, the significance of Christianity as a perpetual institution becomes evident: it means that Christ, Himself through a visible agency was to continue for all time the work He began during His earthly life as Teacher of the human race.

3. It has already been pointed out that some of the pagan peoples, and notably the Greeks, had attained a very high conception of personality; and it has also been shown that this conception was by no means perfect. The teaching of Christianity in this respect is so far superior to any other that if a single element could be designated as fundamental in Christian education it would be the emphasis which it lays on the worth of the individual. In the first place, Christianity had its origin, not in any abstract speculation as to goodness or virtue, but in the actual, concrete life of a Person who was absolutely perfect. It was not, then, obliged to cast about for the ideal man, or to present a theory as to what that ideal might possibly be: it passed the most exalted ideas of human wisdom. In Christ first appeared the full dignity of human nature through its elevation personal union with the Word of God; and in Him, as never before or since, were manifest those traits which furnish the noblest models for imitation.

Christianity, furthermore, elevated human personality by the value it set upon each human soul as created by God and destined for eternal life. The State is no longer the supreme arbiter, nor is service to the public weal the ultimate standard. These, it is true within their legitimate sphere have just claims upon the individual. Christianity by no means teaches that such claims can be disregarded or the corresponding duties neglected, but rather that the discharge of all social and civic obligations will be more thorough when subordinated to, and inspired by, fidelity in the duties that man owes to God. While the value of personality is thus enhanced, the sense of responsibility is correspondingly increased; so that the freer development of the person is not allowed to culminate in selfishness nor in that extreme individualism which is a threat to social organization.

4. From these principles Christianity drew consequences which were totally at variance with the thought and practice of paganism. The position of woman was lifted at once to a higher plane; she ceased to be a chattel, or a mere instrument of passion, and became the equal of man, with the same personal worth and the same eternal destiny. Marriage was no longer a union entered into through caprice or convention, but an indissoluble bond involving mutual rights and duties. Moreover, it was raised to the dignity of a sacrament, which not only sanctified the marital relation and its purposes, but also conferred the graces needful for the due fulfilment of its obligations. The whole meaning of the family was thus transformed. Parental authority was indeed maintained, but such an exercise of the patria potestas as the destruction or the exposure of children could not have been tolerated once it was realized that the child's personality also is sacred, and that parents are responsible not simply to the State, but also to God, for the proper education of their offspring. Christianity, moreover, laid upon the child the duty of respecting and obeying his parents, not out of servile fear or hard necessity, but through a spirit of reverence and filial love. The ties of home-life were thereby strengthened, and the whole work of education took on a new character because it was consecrated in its very source by religion.

5. In respect of its content Christianity opened up to the human mind wide realms of truth which unaided reason could not possibly have attained, and which nevertheless are of far deeper import for life than the most learned speculations of pagan thought. Upon those truths, also, which the philosophers had but vaguely discerned, or about which they had remained in doubt, it shed a new light. There could be no further questioning, for the Christian, as to the existence of a personal God, the reality of His providence, the immortality of the soul, the freedom of the will, and the resulting accountability of man to Divine Justice. Above all, the nature of the moral order was set forth in unmistakable terms. Christianity insisted that morality was not mere outward conformity to custom or law, but the inner rectitude of the will, that æsthetic refinement was of far less consequence than purity of heart, and that love of the neighbour as proven in deed, not personal gain or advantage, was the true norm of human relationships. That such a conception of life, with its emphasis on really spiritual aims, must lead to the formation of educational ideals unknown to the pagan world, is obvious. But on the other hand it would be wrong to infer that Christianity, in its "other worldliness", reduces or neglects the values of the present life. What it consistently maintains is, that life here gets it highest value by serving as a preparation for the life to come. The question is not whether one should live now without any regard to the future or look forward to the future with no concern for the present; but rather how one should profit by the opportunities of this life in such wise as as to secure the other. The problems, then, is one of establishing proportions, i.e. of determining values according to the standard of man's eternal destiny. When education is defined as "preparation for complete living" (Herbert Spencer), the Christian can take no objection to the words as they stand; but he will insist that no living can be "complete" which leaves out of consideration the ultimate purpose of life, and hence that no education really "prepares" which thwarts that purpose or sets it aside. It is just this completeness — in teaching all men in harmonizing all truths, in elevating all relationships, and in leading the individual soul back to the Creator — that forms the essential characteristic of Christianity as an educational influence.

Next in importance to Christ's personal teaching was the establishment of a teaching body whose mission was identical with His own: "As the Father hath sent me, I also send you" (John 20:21); and "He that heareth you, heareth me" (Luke 10:16). He was not content with proclaiming once for all the truths of the Gospel, nor did He leave its wider dissemination to individual enthusiasm or initiative; He founded a Church to carry on His work. The spread of His doctrine was entrusted, not to books, nor to schools of philosophy, nor to the governments of the world, but to an organization that spoke in His name and with his authority. No other body of teachers ever undertook so vast a work, and no other ever accomplished so much for education in the highest sense. Apart from the preaching of the Apostles, the earliest form of Christian instruction was that given to the catechumens in preparation for baptism. Its object was twofold: to impart a knowledge of Christian truth, and to train the candidate in the practice of religion. It was conducted by the bishop and, as the number of catechumens increased, by priests, deacons, and other clerics. Until the third century this mode of instruction was an important adjunct to the Apostolate; but in the fifth and sixth centuries it was gradually replaced by private instruction of the converts, who were then less numerous, and by the training given in other schools to those who had been baptized in infancy. The catechumenal schools, however, gave expression to the spirit which was to animate all subsequent Christian education: they were open to every one who accepted the faith, and they united religious instruction with moral discipline. The "catechetical" schools, also under the bishop's supervision, prepared young clerics for the priesthood. The courses of study included philosophy and theology, and naturally took on an apologetic character in defense of Christian truth against the attacks of pagan learning. One of the oldest of these schools was at the Lateran in Rome; the most famous was that of Alexandria (see CHRISTIAN DOCTRINE).

In addition to this formal instruction, the Church from the beginning carried on through her worship and educational work embodying the deepest and soundest psychological principles. The ritual at first was of necessity simple; but as the Church was allowed a larger freedom, and her worship passed from the catacombs to the basilica, statelier forms were introduced; yet their essential purpose was the same. The Mass, which has always been the central liturgical function, appeals to the mind through the medium of sense. It combines light and colour and sound, the action of the priest, and the dramatic movement that fills the sanctuary, especially in the more solemn service. Beneath these outward forms lies the inner meaning. The altar itself, in every detail, is full of a symbolism that brings vividly to mind the life and personality of Christ, the work of redemption, and the enduring sacrifice of the Cross. In due proportion, each item fo the liturgy conveys a lesson through eye and ear to the highest faculties of the soul. Sense, memory, imagination, and feeling are thus aroused, not simply as æsthetic activities, but as a support of intellect and will which thereupon issue in adoration and thanksgiving for the "mystery of faith." On the other hand, the liturgy has always included in its purpose the participation of the faithful, and hence it prescribes the response of the people to the prayers at the altar, the chanting of certain portions of the service, bodily postures and movements in keeping with the various phases of the sacred rite. The faithful are not merely bystanders or onlookers; they are not to maintain a passive, receptive attitude, but rather to give active expression to the religious thought and feeling aroused in them. This is especially evident in the sacramental system. While each of the sacraments is a sign to be perceived, it is also a source of grace to be received; and the reception involves in each case a series of actions which manifest the faith and disposition of the recipent. Moreover, each sacrament is adapted to some particular need, and the whole system for sacraments, from baptism to extreme unction, builds up the spiritual life by processes of cleansing, strengthening, nourishing, and healing, which parallel the stage and requirements of organic growth.

In a larger way, also, the liturgical year, as it commemorates the principal events in the life of Christ, brings into Christian worship a variety which affects to some extent both the details of the liturgy itself and the religious feelings which it inspires — from the joy of Christmas to the triumph of Easter and Pentecost. For the due observance of the greater festivals the Church provides, as in Advent and Lent, by seasons of preparation. The Old Law with its types foreshadowed the New; the Baptist announce the Messiah; Christ himself prepared His disciples beforehand for the mystery of the Eucharist, for His death, and for the coming of the Holy Ghost. The Church, following the same practice arouses in the mind of the faithful those thoughts and feelings which form an apperceptive preparation for the central mysteries of faith and their proper observance at appointed times. Along with these greater solemnities come year by year the commemorations of the Christian heroes, the men and women who have walked in the footsteps of Christ, laboured for the spread of His kingdom, or even shed their blood for His sake. These are held up as models to be imitated, as realizations more or less perfect of the sublime ideal which is Christ Himself. And among the saints the foremost place is given to Mary the Mother of C