Author. f * o Title * *** Upases Book.:.36_ Imprint 1»— 47372-1 opo ON THE IMPORTANCE AND MEANS OF CULTIVATING SOCIAL AFFECTIONS AMONG PUPILS. BY J. BLANCHARD. u DELIVERED BEFORE THE AMERICAN INSTITUTE OF INSTRUCTION AT ITS ANNUAL MEETING. BOSTON, AUGUST 1835. SOCIAL AFFECTIONS AMONG PUPILS. Mr President, and Gentlemen of the Institute : Desire of society is as truly a part of our natures, as the dread of anguish or the love of life. This simple original desire, finds its gratification in the exercise of those natural affections, which interest us in the welfare of our kindred, our friends, our acquaintance, and our race ; and, together with these affections, it forms that complex class of emotions, which we call the social feelings ;* and these, again, being constantly excited by the circumstances and relations of life, grow into a permanent habit, and become the all-pervading, master-feeling of the soul. All other passions and powers of the mind are subsidiary to this, and the entire universe is built in that manner which is best adapted to cherish these feelings, and bring them to per- fection. We may, then, infer the high worth of the social affections, I. 1. From the estimation in which God holds them. This we may learn by viewing His works, in the same way that we get at a man's opinion on a given subject, by ex- amining his conduct. For it cannot for a moment be sup- posed, that the Creator would have made the whole range of objects in nature co-operate together in the production of a set of feelings which were not designed to answer important purposes in the system of things. Now even the lifeless forms of inorganic matter, are so constructed as to excite the social affections in the minds that study them ; * For classification, see Dugald Stewait's Works, vol. iii., p. 408. 4 MR BLANCHARD S LECTURE. and hence it is, that the students of Sweden, where the natural sciences are pursued with uncommon ardor, are far more amiable and social than their neighbors, the untiring Germans. The mineralogist, no sooner falls on a crystal or garnet, but he searches the immediate vicinity, with confident ex- pectation of finding the bed of earth or of rock, where sleeps the whole sparkling family to which the stray individual belongs. It is thus throughout the material world. The pearl and the diamond, no less than the rubble and the sandstone, repose in clusters or in concrete masses, and the whole surface of the earth is strown with endlessly varied forms of matter, which are grouped together with their kindred forms for no imaginable purpose, except to im- press a social structure on the young minds which behold them ; and thus to form a fit frame-work for a social globe. 2. But the social features are more clearly discernible in whatever of matter possesses motion or life. If our eye could take in at a single glance, all the waters which mur- mur on the globe, the whole busy multitude of streams would seem well to represent one vast family, whose mem- bers, though constantly dispersed by opposing elements, are as constantly stealing by their several courses, to the same home. Not a flower on the freckled bosom of earth, seems willing to grow unseconded by its mate. And even the shrubs and trees, when left single, instead of climbing toward heaven as is their nature to do, seem stretching out their arms in search of their lost companions. 3. Besides the grouping together of similar forms, there are myriads of unseen influences abroad in the world, both known and unknown, whose magnetic virtues compel all things to depend on all. Thus every particle of matter has its soul, though not in the sense which the heathen philos- ophers taught ;* and by its attractive properties, it stands connected in ten thousand ways with the entire material machine, so that a single irregular pulsation in the remotest part, must make the whole frame tremble ! These views have been versified by one whose feelings were in unison with the truths above stated. * Good's Book of Nature, Sect. 4, on Matter and the Material World. SOCIAL AFFECTIONS AMONG PUPILS 3 " What thing created brooks to exist alone ? Even the dull rock claims kindred of its own ; The tree left single spreads her widowed arms To share with pollard mates her verdant charms; — Rills to each other's bosom steal with care, Blend into one, and flow more quiet there; — While stars in clusters gather as they move, And light the lamps of friendship and of love.'* 4. Rising from the low ground of dull material forms, to the sprightlier region of animal natures, the eye is almost pained by the instant rush of interminable and countless clusters of social beings. The silent shell fish, that grow on rocks, though senseless, are yet social, and seem to find a mute enjoyment in each other's presence. The micro- scope reveals the fact that every flower is a separate realm, peopled by a society of beings which observe their own laws, and pursue their little pleasures, animated by a mur- muring music, which, by placing the flower close to the ear, even our coarser organs enable us to perceive. No animal is able to subsist alone. Those wild animals which are caught and caged, are able to drag on a wretched exist- ence, only because the human beings who tend them, afford a meagre substitute for the society of their mates. The silent schools which wander "through the paths of the seas," are continually swarming in their social gambols : — While the softest and richest — nay, almost all the music of this lower world, is made up of the language of its ani- mals, telling each other of their happiness, or making known their wants. 5. Thus while we trace this series of animated beings from one mode of life to another, down to the shadowy margin of emptiness itself; or follow the same series, as it holds upward through higher and still higher gradations, till the whole glowing chain of immortal intelligences is lost in that concentrated blaze of brightness which veils forever, and forbids all approach to the Eternal Throne ! — Throughout this mighty range we cannot find one inde- pendent, isolated being. The universe itself is nothing but one illimitable group of societies, bound together by ties as real and indissoluble as those by which they are fastened to existence itself! So true is it, that the Most High hath imprinted a social aspect upon the fore-front of all his * Pleasures of the Social Affections. 6 MR BLANCHARDS LECTURE. works, to the end that whoever becomes acquainted with the smallest part of them, may feel within him the stirrings of that social nature which was originally implanted in ev- ery breast. And it is thus most plain, that those affections which the Deity has seen fit to cultivate at an expense of arrangement whereto all his works are made to contribute, must be, in his estimation, who rates all things at their true value, of higher importance than any or all the remaining powers ol the soul. II. 1. But again: The reasonableness and necessity of cultivating the social affections, may be argued from the fact, that they make the most important part of the faculties of the soul. Strike out the social feelings, and a mere intellectual skeleton is all which you leave. Memory, be- comes a useless register of uninteresting particulars ; — Reason draws inferences from uncared for facts ; — and the Understanding, like an antiquarian judge, is busied in the decision of cases in which no one feels interested : — For our social nature is the silver cord which binds together all our faculties into one harmonious whole. 2. Moreover we ought to cultivate the social affections, because they are concerned in the production of all the misery and all the enjoyment incident to human life. If properly regulated and judiciously cultivated, they are the " Suns of the soul ! Sweet solace of all wo! Balm shaded founts whence rills perpetual flow : Whose healing dews with life's harsh waters blend, Till he who lives a stranger looks a friend."* But if they are neglected or perverted, the spirit is imme- diately plunged in feverish inquietude or gloomy discontent. The proverb " Corruptio optimi, Pcssima,' "f applies with tenfold propriety to the social affections, for the mischief they occasion when perverted or suppressed, is in full pro- portion to the pleasure of which they are capable when vigorous and sound. Robert Hall has said : " The sympa- thies, even of virtuous minds, when not warmed by the breath of friendship, are too cold to satisfy the social cravings of our nature. The satisfaction derived from sur- veying the most beautiful forms of nature, or the most * Pleasures of the Social Affections. t The best thing corrupted becomes the worst. SOCIAL AFFECTIONS AMONG PUPILS. 7 exquisite productions of art, is so far from being complete, it almost turns to uneasiness, when there is none with whom we can share it ; nor would the most passionate ad- mirer of eloquence or poetry consent to witness their most stupendous exertions, upon the single condition of not being permitted to reveal his emotions."* Families are often made the seat of unutterable wietch- edness, by the unsocial habits of ii single individual ; and that too, often, when the same individual possesses a good natural understanding and a kind heart. The father, per- haps, from being compelled by his situation to rely much on his own judgment, falls into the unsocial and hateful habit of allowing no member of his family to think for him- self in the smallest matters, and in consequence is dreaded as a dictator, rather than revered as a parent. Or the mother happens to be one of those sublimated ladies, who have contracted a wanton indifference to the feelings of others, by perpetually refining upon their own. The children will copy the faults of both parents, according to their several tastes. One will aim at decision of char- acter, and land upon obstinacy in trifles. Another falls into a whining delicacy and considers herself privileged to make war upon the cheerfulness of whatever company she is in. A third unites the faults of both parents in the same character, and is hourly vibrating between the odious ex- tremes, — overbearing arrogance and fatiguing childishness. A fourth is moody and low spirited, and thinks this mon- strous excuse a sufficient justification for not being cheerful, And, in fine, the whole family are agreed in no one thing but the neglect of each other's peace ; and thus, without anything positively wicked in their hearts, they are con- stantly running foul of each other's feelings, until impa- tience is exasperated into fretfulness or jealously, and the family becomes a fount* in of bitter waters; — and all for the want of some one to show them that it is the easiest thing in the world to be happy. It is no exaggeration to say that the families of New England have suffered more domestic unhappiness from the above-named causes, than from all others put together. It is often painful to observe in some families, a child of a naturally amiable temper, un- ■ Works of Robert Hall, p. 124. 8 MR BLANCHARD 'S LECTURE. dergoing this souring process, witliout knowing how to escape, or what to do. 3. Ill regulated social feelings produce nearly all the fretfulness and repining, melancholy and dejection, so com- mon in society. If a man has learned to " rejoice with them who do rejoice, and weep with them who weep,"* there will always be enough happiness in the world to pre- vent his being wretched, and enough of misery to secure him from the dizzy flights of extatic joy. But when, from neglect of cultivation, the social feelings sink into selfish- ness or sensuality, the imagination becomes introverted or polluted, and the heart is thenceforth a festering centre of uncomfortable emotions. Thus one man pines under the disappointment of his wishes, and another sickens by their gratification. Such people are always unhappy, always haunted with the consciousness of the vanity of this world, unrelieved by the hopes of a better ; and though not always perfectly miserable, they are never quite content. Their most comfortable state is a mere vapid vacuity of bliss. " The heart's affections, like earth's brilliant streams, Must flow in channels; — radiate in beams; If once self-centred, to their source they turn, Like pools they stagnate, or like meteors bum."t 4. But the languid and odious habits of complaining, melancholy, and moroseness, are the mildest forms of per- verted social feelings. They also give rise to the more boisterous and deadly emotions ; — " Pride, stung with im- aginary neglects and insults ; Envy, wretched at the con- templation of another's felicity ; and Anger, burning with resentment, and impatient for the execution of its purposes of retaliation ; and the other turbulent passions, which, like the frozen viper in the bosom of the rustic, invariably sting to death him in whose bosom they are cherished. "J The man whose social feelings are right, feels his own peace impaired by whatever inflicts a pang upon a fellow being. But when the social out-goings of our nature are stifled or perverted by selfishness or neglect, like smothered fires, they eat into the very substance of the soul, and produce the volcanic eruptions of furious anger, mad enthusiasm, or unbridled licentiousness ! *Rom. xii. 15. t Pleasures of the Social Affections. $ Prof. Hough's Sermon. SOCIAL AFFECTIONS AMONG PUPILS. iJ 5. For these reasons, among other motives of policy, the church of Rome has with dreadful forecast, laid the foundations of her iron despotism in perverted social feel- ings. By forcibly exiling her clergy from the ten thousand nameless endearments of domestic life, she has trans- formed them into a species of epicene monsters in whom the social longings of our nature flow out in fanaticism or stagnate in lust ; and by letting them loose upon the mid- dle ground between the sexes, she has made them the just terror of both ! They are thus become a species of half way race, in most respects " sui generis" possessing the fractious and cunning obstinacy of the mule, without the generous nature of the horse, or the patient stupidity of the ass.* 6. In striking contrast with the Romish priests, stand a class of beings who are their opposites in everything except the unrelieved evil of their lives. I mean modern infidels. The priest attempts to smother, the infidel to prostitute the social affections. The first seeks to stifle the sympathies and starve the spirit by the imposition of galling vows and emaciating penance ; the last turns the soul loose to browse on the common of vice! If the two classes be compared, the priests have a decided advantage. Their apparent austerity has the merit of seeming difficult ; while the licentiousness of the atheists is attainable even by swine. Romanism furnishes some check on the morals of the laity, and makes a very efficient prop to a tottering throne; while the Atheism of modern times, is mere disor- ganization embodied in a creed of negatives. It is like the long sought universal solvent, which in its work of disso- lution, would not spare even the vessel which contained it. Nor can I learn that auy one ever attempted to apply it to any practical use, except, like the present, as a philosophi- cal illustration, to show how opposite extremes in evil meet in crime ; and to set forth in a clear light the damage which the soul suffers when the social feelings are violated * I paused upon this sentence to see if in justice it should not be soft- ened, but could find no milder terms capable of expressing the result of my convictions after much personal intercourse with the Romish Priests in Canada and elsewhere. If any fear the representation too highly col- ored, they will do well to consult the " Catholic Herald," published at Boston. 10 MR BLANCHARD'S LECTURE. by the neglect of proper culture, the arbitrary friction of unnatural impositions, or the unhinging libertinism of a Godless infidelity ! 7. But if we would see the importance of cultivating the social affections in its real magnitude, we must look at the influence they are to exert in fixing the soul's standing in a future state. To do this effectually we must here pause a moment in our progress, and look abroad upon the general subject of intellectual and moral cultivation: — a field, which com- prehends, in its wide embrace, the whole business of men on earth, and the entire employment of spirits in heaven. Man's errand on earth is, to obtain a competent amount of information, reduce it to practice and then go away to enjoy his intellectual and social supremacy in a brighter and a better world. But that supremacy is mainly to con- sist of enlarged and comprehensive affections united with the information which is necessary to make them acquainted with the objects of love. And hence, those who have the most enlarged and elevated social affections, are farthest advanced in the learning of eternity ! For this social part of our natures is the scale of character upon which differ- ent degrees of excellence are marked down in heaven. Hence, also, those acquisitions and enjoyments which be- long only to this life, resemble those darkling flowers which bloom through the night, but close their eyes at the rising of the sun ! " Whether there be tongues, they shall cease. Whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away."* Nay ! even the pious confidence of faith, and the beamy raptures of hope shall go out amid the realities which they promise ; and the soul shall stand forth in the awful mag- nificence of her renovated affections, like some mighty temple whose grandeur is enhanced by taking away the loose scaffoldings, which were useful only in the early stages of its erection. That point in a man's life when his mind ceases to improve, is merely the signal for the soul to close her terrestrial concerns. The wings of the imagination droop — the thoughts creep silently back upon their original : attention dies ; memory relaxes her hold and lets fall her bundle of the past, and the whole man seems the relic of a * 1 Cor. xiii. 8 SOCIAL AFFECTIONS AMONG PUPILS. 1 1 former age, and a way mark to the future world ! But our social blessings are neither restricted to time nor limited by space. As those insects, which are about to pass from the vermicular to the winged state x pass a short period of insensibility before they escape from their exuviae and float on the sunbeams of Heaven : so, also, the soul finds, in old age and death, but a momentary suspension of her progress toward perfection. And the (ew steps of her advancement which lie in this world, are but the beginning of what will be an ascending flight, which shall tower aloft, until from her high elevation the spirit looks down upon the highest star : — the key-stone of the Arch of Heaven 1* 8. Now, then, contrast the present benefits which the social affections confer, with the future enjoyments which they promise. Here, our dearest connexions are often sources of pain ; there, they are productive only of delight. The scenes of friendship and the solaces of home, — nay, the more exhilarating instances of social enjoyment, where bosoms beat in the harmony of early affection, or repose in the quiet of conjugal love, — all, all are fluctuating and fading as the painted beauty of evening clouds, which are now burnished in brightness, and now darkened into gloom ! Far be it from me to underrate the value of fire- side joys, where, though the wind be loud and the storm relentless, a circle of glad hearts respond to each other's caresses in all the easy variety of domestic bliss. But what are all these, when once compared with that enjoyment which " eye hath not seen — neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive ! "f Moreover, those who are made partakers of future happiness, not only enter upon that state with the certainty that their social enjoyments will never end, but also with the transporting assurance that they will always increase. Who, then, shall calculate the importance of cultivating the social affections, — the very channels through which all the bliss of eternity must flow? 9. But the social feelings must be cultivated, if ever, when the mind is young and pliant. Hear on this subject the testimony of Dugald Stewart : " It is in consequence * These remarks, of course, apply only to the spirits of "them that are saved." 2 Cor. ii. 15. t 1 Cor. ii. 9. 12 MR BLANCHARD'S LECTURE. of their imitative propensity that children learn insensibly to model their habits upon the appearance and manners of those with whom they are familiarly conversant. As we advance in life, this imitative propensity grows weaker, our improving faculties gradually diverting our attention from the models around us to ideal standards more conformable to our taste ; whilst, at the same time, in consequence of some physical change in the body, that flexibility of the muscular system, by which the propensity to imitate is enabled to accomplish its end, is impaired or lost."* Youth is always gentle, docile, and affectionate. Even the whelp of the lion or tiger responds to your caresses with the playful innocence of unweaned infancy ; — but tomorrow, it will tear in pieces the same hand which, today it licks in very fondness. A change not remotely analo- gous to this, passes upon the human character in its transi- tion from infancy to manhood, at least, so analogous, that if men are ever to form social and amiable characters, you must imitate the hunters and take them when they are young. III. What, then, are the best means, by which a preceptor may cultivate the Social Affections among Pupils ? I. In the first place, he must feel the necessity of making specific and strenuous effort to accomplish this ob- ject. He must not suppose that mere intellectual progress is social improvement. Dr Beecher has said " that mere intellect is nugatory, and may be cultivated to any extent without purifying the affections or enlarging the heart." We suppose the devil to possess a vast amount of knowl- edge with but little relish for society. And common ob- servation teaches us that a man may be very knowing, and, at the same time, very base. The minds of some men seem to be as mathematically regular, and as regularly cold, as fraught with lore and as full of death as the Pyra- mids of Egypt. Yet it is a painful fact, that education has been conducted almost as if there were no social feelings — nothing but naked intellect. We have analysis of taste, memory, imagination and reason ; but where, except in the bible, which also, is too little studied in the schools, where is the youth to learn how to bear an insult, or over- look a neglect ; — to overcome his hatred of those who are *Dugald Stewart's Works, Vol. III. p. 112. SOCIAL AFFECTIONS AMONG PUPILS 13 disagreeable, and practice that rarest of virtues, a uniform, cheerful good nature 1 Even those who have written on the philosophy of the human mind, have said next to nothing on the subject of the social affections. They have considered our daily intercourse, only as made up of trifles ; not reflecting, that these very trifles, though like the wa- tery particles, they are individually so insignificant as to be invisible, yet in their aggregate capacity, make up the mighty ocean of life on which we sail. Thus they have simply put down " the desire of society," as "among the original and universal principles of our nature,"* leaving fiddlers, dancing-masters, and Chesterfields, to inform us how this " desire of society " ought to lead us to behave. 2. Suitably impressed with the importance of the sub- ject, the preceptor must set about removing every obstacle to the free and delightful social enjoyment of his pupils. That no external hindrances may exist, he must see that his rooms possess neatness, convenience, and, if circum- stances permit, a degree of elegance. You cannot be cheerful or agreeable in a filthy, smoky, or otherwise un- comfortable room. The mind borrows its tone from the objects by which it is surrounded. Savages are savages, because, among other things, they live in the huts of sav- ages. 3. Externals being properly adjusted, the preceptor may then address himself to the giant task of subduing what is refractory and hateful in the dispositions of his pupils. He finds that a child naturally hates others for one of three causes : 1. He thinks them disagreeable. 2. That they misuse him. 3. Or else they stand in the way of his getting something which he desires. In short, a resentment founded in pride, and fostered by selfishness, is the antagonist power to every social influence, and takes the form of disgust, anger, or envy according to the nature of its object. But for these malevolent passions, children and youth would be perfectly happy in each other's society ; for they naturally love those, 1st. whom they think agreeable ; 2d. who treat them well ; and 3d. whom it is their interest to love. No pirate is so apostate from humanity, as not to have his favorite felon. Now ■ Dugald Stewart, Vol. III. p, 408. 14 MR BLANCHARD'S LECTURE. were these unsocial and bad passions eradicated or sub- dued, it would be perfectly easy to rear their opposite vir- tues. For there are multitudes who can do a kindness without haughtiness, to one who can bear an insult with calmness ; and, as all the " passive virtues are the most difficult to practice," the youth who has learned to observe these, will not find it a task to perform the social duties of active benevolence. The preceptor, will not, of course, ex- pect to expel every wrong passion by direct effort ; but in the language of Dr Palev, " by so mollifying their minds by just habits of reflection, that they will be less irritated by impressions of injury, and sooner pacified,"* until the hate- ful emotion altogether cease. 4. The preceptor should, then, in private converse, and familiar remarks, explain to them their duty as to the vari- ous forms of disgust, anger, and envy. Let him insist that it is no virtue to love those who happen to please us, since pirates and cut-throats do commonly this same thing. If, then, they would rise a single step above the vilest and most cruel of human beings, they must feel a cordial affec- tion for all, even the froward and unlovely. Let them un- derstand that this affection must answer that most strikingly philosophic definition, " Let us not love in word, neither in tongue, but in deed and in truth :"f anything short of this, being branded as infamous hypocrisy. To enable them to do this, the preceptor must show them that every person, idiots and lunatics excepted, has good qualities enough to make an interesting character, and if they do not discover these excellences in every person they meet, it is because they lack ingenuity or tact to discover or draw them out in conversation. Every perfect human soul is an interesting thino - ; and is capable of affording an hour's entertainment,, by relating its bare dreams for a single night, to any person who has either kindness or curiosity. Every teacher knows how natural it is to dislike those scholars who are refrac- tory or disagreeable. The difficulty, in such cases, is, not that the scholar has no engaging qualities, but that teach- ers want either the wit or the inclination to discover them. The man who takes colts to break, is called a blockhead if he bring them back complaining that their motions are un- * See Paley's Moral Philosophy, Chap. vii. 1 John, iii. 18. SOCIAL AFFECTIONS AMONG PUPILS. 15 gainly and awkward. The teacher is to the mind of his pupils, what the groom is to the body of the horse. 5. Another important object of a preceptor's efforts, should be, to make his pupils habitually sensible of their own faults. He should inform them distinctly, that each one of them has some things in his or her appearance, disposi- tion or life, which are exceedingly disgusting. And he may boldly appeal to the consciousness of each one for the truth of what he asserts. Few, indeed, are those, who if their hearts were letters, would dare to have their nearest friends read them. And as a person never feels more ten- der of others, or appears more amiable than when modestly sensible of his own imperfections and faults ; il a teacher can make this state of mind habitual among his pupils, the most difficult part of his task in subduing their evil tem- pers is done. 6. But the most difficult thing which students find in the practice of the social virtues, is, to get over the ill-treat- ment which they receive from others, and retain their sweetness of temper. This, however, can be done. To guard his pupils here, the preceptors should teach them to look upon the misdoings of others, not merely as crimes of which they are guilty, but also as evils by which they must suffer. When children have been ever so ill-used by one of their number, if the offender is brought up and they see he must suffer, their resentment commonly melts into com- passion, and they wish they could save him the very blows which he is to suffer for maltreating them. So also, mur- derers in the prisoner's box, and confronting the court, commonly excite more sympathy than the wretches whom they have butchered, or the friends whom they have bereft. The reason is, that the people see they must suffer the pen- alty of their crimes. Now, if pupils can be brought to feel that every instance of misconduct which they witness must shortly be exposed in the court-room of creation, and re- ceive sentence in the concentrated gaze of an assembled universe! — and that those who are not wise enough to secure a substitute, will be compelled to endure the bloody inflictions in their own persons ; let them once feel — ha- bitually feel this, and resentment and hatred will drop out of their hearts ; nay, rather, they will feel such commisera- tion towards the ill-tempered Rnd the vicious, that when 16 Mil BLANCH ARD'S LECTURE. ft they are in conscience forced to inform their teacher of vile conduct in others, they will do it, " Sad as angels for the good man's sin, Blush to record, and weep to give it in.''* On this point, I shall be pardoned for relating an anec- dote which occurred recently in my own experience. Frances, a young miss of sweet disposition and agreeable manners, came to me in tears on account of rude and un- kind treatment from one of her mates. I asked what prov- ocation she had given ; " None at all, sir/' and it was doubtless true. "Why then does she misuse you so? Are you quite sure you have given her no reason to be of- fended with you ?" " None, sir," she still insisted. I then asked Frances what she supposed was the real cause that her class-mate treated her thus ; whether it must not be because she had a bad natural disposition? " No, sir," again ; " she would not accuse her of that, but she could not tell what she meant by her conduct." I then asked Frances, if she would be willing to take her class- mate's turn of mind in exchange for the abuse of which she complained. ' : Oh, no, not" she cried eagerly ; "I would rather suffer ill-treatment myself than misuse others." " It seems, then," I replied, " that your class-mate's condition is, by your own confession, vastly worse than your's, so I shall reserve my sympathy for her. The same things of which you complain, will, doubtless, make her disagreeable to others, and will thus torment her through life unless she escapes from them. Thus, you see, you ought to pity and love her for the very things which you seem disposed to blame. For a bad disposition, is in this respect, worse than a broken limb, — it is much harder to be cured." I need not say, Frances left the room with a light heart and smiling face, and I heard no more of her wrongs. In some such way, may pupils be taught, that anger and hatred are both uncomfortable and useless; and that those who mis- use us, will, sooner or later, be the greatest sufferers by their own folly. 7. But when the preceptor has succeeded in expelling disgust at offensive qualities, and resentment for injurious treatment in others, he has still to grapple with a more * Campbell's Pleasures of Mope, SOCIAL AFFECTIONS AMONG PUPILS. 17 odious and natural passion. It is true, " Wrath is cruel, and anger is outrageous, but who can stand before envy."* Envy is a night-ghost, which dogs emulation in all her paths. The way to treat emulation in a school, is, just as God treats it in the world. That is, let it entirely alone. Do nothing to provoke it into action, but substitute nobler principles of action, as fast as you can get them into the mind and heart of your pupils. But do not attempt to tear emulation out of the soul, except by showing how mean a motive it is, compared with a sense of duty and a love of good. But envy will still exist. The reason why it is so common even among children, is just this. Every body supposes some others are better off than themselves. But " If every one's internal care Were written on his brow, How many would our pity share, Who raise our envy now. The fatal secret when revealed, Of every aching breast, Would show that only while concealed, Their lot appeared the best.'! The preceptor's best way to cure envy, is, therefore, to let his pupils at once into the wonderful secret, that, in this world, every person finds just as much difficulty as he knows how to dispose of, and oftimes more trouble than he knows how to endure ; — that the spirit l#is a power of adapting itself to great burdens, which hold the soul steady by their own weight, so that the slightest troubles often produce the sorest pangs ! — That while the rich, the beau- tiful, the proud and the gay, are harassed by overweening desires, and tormented by real or imagined sorrows, " There is," all of the time, " One who tempereth the wind to the shorn lamb!" Let pupils be made to feel this; and the moment such truths once gain permanent possession of their hearts, envy, with her whole brood of subordinate vipers, — slander, malice, and detraction, repining and fretfulness, will fly hissing and drewling from their bosoms ! When they see mankind as they are, with a burden fitted to every shoulder as great as it can bear, they will not, un- less they are very brutes, desire to increase the load, or trip * Proverbs xxvii 4. t Anonymous. IB - MR BLANCHARD'S LECTURE. the feet of any pilgrims on this brief and precarious voyage of life.. 8. Besides the instructions specified above, the precep- tor must devise such as shall meet the peculiarities of each individual. In private conversation, he must always take into consideration where a child has been brought up, whether in a city, village, or country district ; and if he can get an inside view of the family where he has been raised, it is all the better. There are faults peculiar to every place, as there are weeds to every soil. Besides his private conver- sations, he should daily fix his eye on some one of the innumerable mischiefs which creep upon the intercourse of pupils, and make that the subject of a few brief remarks at night. Impudence, impertinence, swearing and other vul- garity, may be treated successfully by likening them to something which they truly resemble, and he should always have an abundance of comparisons and illustrations on hand. For all insignificant follies, and filthy habits of con- versation among pupils, partake of the nature of bats and cannot bear the light ; so that if a preceptor but examines them before the school, always applying the Ciceronean test, " What is anybody to gain by it ?" these minor evils will fly away. If the preceptor, for instance, enables his pupils to perceive the similarity which exists between a youth pouring out oaths, and other filthy and odious speeches, and a person undergoing the operation of an emetic, the school will be like to remember the illustra- tion the next time they hear a person swear. But ridicule, like a rusty weapon, leaves poison in the wound, though it removes an excrescence, and should seldom be used at all, and never upon individuals; for if it improves their man- ners, it does it at the expense of the heart. 9. But when the preceptor has done all he can in the way of staling duties and rules of conduct in particular cir- cumstances, he has still the more difficult task of making his pupils practice them. For in the present state of hu- man nature, you will never get a man to enter on a course of action, till you convince him he will be a gainer by it in some way or other. I do not say that there is no virtue which rests on higher ground than selfishness. But this, I say, that no man was ever yet converted to virtue or reli- gion, who did not suppose he would be better off by the SOCIAL AFFECTIONS AMONG PUPILS. 19 change, and it does no hurt, at least, if you wish a man to enter on the path of duty, to let him know that it leads to heaven. Now, the preceptor can convince his pupils, in a thousand ways, that they will be gainers by rigidly observ- ing their social duties, and avoiding every rankling and resentful passion, even when they are wronged. Indeed, it is so evident, no man ever made anything, on the whole, by a quarrel, that if everyone would soberly pause, and ask what he is like to gain for himself or anyone else, before entering on hard feelings or bitter words, few, very few, would either be harbored or spoken. If he must be wronged in his interest or feelings, and the law would not protect him, he would endure it as he does a hail storm or a plague, staying himself upon the hope of future sunshine and sound health. You will perceive, at once, that these are principles which the venerable William Ladd, and the Peace Society are worthily laboring to disseminate. 10. But what pupils are to gain in their interests by a disposition to " bear all things and endure all things,"* may be clearly made to appear from our utter dependence upon one another. For, though all whom we meet may not have it in their power to do us a kindness, yet no one is so mean as to be incapable of doing us an injury. And none, therefore, can safely be neglected as impotent, or despised as weak. A few small worms may sink a whole fleet, which has outlived a thousand tempests. 1 1. Yet pupils are most likely to be excited to a right cultivation of the social affections, by showing them what they are to gain in their manners. For every one would like to be agreeable. And the free exercise of the social feelings, makes their possessors the most interesting people on earth. It produces the utmost simplicit;/ and sincerity of manners ; for those whose feelings are kind to all, have nothing to conceal. And " nothing except what comes from the heart can render even external manners truly pleasing." " Not the warmest expressions of affection, the softest and most tender hypocrisy, are able to give any sat- isfaction, where we are not persuaded the affection is real."f Dr Brown's celebrated definition of politeness, places in clear light the connexion between the social aftee- " 1 Cor. xiii. 7. Spectator, No. 170. 20 MR BLANCHARD'S LECTURE. tions and the manners. " Politeness," he remarks, " is nothing more than a knowledge of the human mind direct- ing general benevolence. It is the art of producing the greatest amount of happiness, which, in the mere external courtesies of life, can be produced by raising such ideas or other feelings in the minds of those with whom we asso- ciate, as will afford the most pleasure, and by averting, as much as possible, every idea which may lead to pain."* From which it appears, there can be no such thing as true politeness, without tenderness of the feelings of others. 12. Moreover, not the manners alone :— The very coun- tenance is improved and beautified by the social affections. What Addison has said of the virtue of good nature, may be affirmed with tenfold truth of these. " They are more agreeable than wit, and give a certain air to the counte- nance which is more amiable than beauty. "f The faces of corpses appear much the same, though the contour of the face, and the prominent features remain unchanged by death. The varied and endless diversity of living faces, de- pends, mainly, on what is called the language of the looks, or " expression of countenance," which is little more or less than the expression of the social feelings. If these are active and amiable, the countenance will be gentle and agreeable; but a handsome face without sweetness of tem- per, is a contradiction in nature. It may be fine, it cer- tainly is not fair. It is perversion of language to talk of the beauty of a snake because its colors are fine. 13. In this way may the preceptor labor to clear away the obstructions which lie in the way of the social feelings, but the affections themselves can only be called into action by the omnipotence of example. You may inform the intellect, in many things, by precept alone ; but teaching the affections by precept, is a fiat absurdity. There is a chameleon habit in our natures, which makes our feelings change their color to those we behold. What Horace has so finely said of the emotion of grief, may be repeated with equal propriety of the social feelings : " If you would make me weep, weep yourself."}: Hence there is no more ludi- * Philosophy of the Human Mind, Sect. 4. t Spectator, No. 119. $ Si vis me Here, dolendum est Primum ipse tibi : — Hor. De Art Poet 102. SOCIAL AFFECTIONS AMONG PUPILS. 21 crous spectacle on earth, that a pair of sturdy polemics, — both claiming a profound acquaintance with the laws of the human mind, and both violating its simplest principles, by attempting to argue and reason each other into the meek- ness and love of the gospel. If one would just feel the emotion he wishes to produce, and let the other look in his face at the same time, he would accomplish his pro- fessed object, without uttering a single word. If there be a sight to match this, it must be that of an austere, morose, overbearing or snappish teacher, hoping to lecture his pupils into cheerful and amiable beings. If ever a man should be amiable, if ever he should be able to blend a horror of vice and misconduct, with the utmost kindness to those guilty of it — if ever he should be above irritation, and private resentments, it should be when he undertakes the care of young minds. These are the qualities which conferred on Socrates, the prince of preceptors, his terres- trial immortality ; and gave him such a mastery over the minds and hearts of his pupils, that his decisions were to them as the oracles of God. Listen to the account of Soc- rates, given in the simple and beautiful narrative of one whom his instructions had raised to a pitch of greatness, which the human character has seldom attained, and never, perhaps, in all respects, surpassed. " I observe all other teachers," he remarks, " showing their pupils by what means they may put their instructions into practice; and urging them to this by argument: — but I saw Socrates, exhibiting in himself, the goodness and excellence which he taught, at the same time, discoursing in the happiest man- ner, concerning virtue and all human perfections."* 14. Next to his own example, the preceptor should rely on that of others, both living and dead. He should never let a day pass without bringing before the minds of his pupils some striking trait in the characters of those who have distinguished themselves for command of temper, and persevering kindness, under ill-usage. Such, for instance, as the story of Pericles, who, after patiently enduring the * As all translations must fail of presenting the beauty or the entire import of the original, I shall transcribe the passage paraphrased above. Jlurrag $g rovg SiS^axovrug OQco avrovg dti/wi-Tug tj ro'tg iiaiOaruvntr, ijrrtQ avroi rcoiovoiv u StSunxovoi xai rio Xoyta 7TQog(Sifiat,o\Tctg. Oitia dt rat StoXQaTtjv dttxrvrra Totg $vvovot savrov xa?.ov xtiya&ov ovra, xai SiaXeyttierov xaXAtcrra Trtqi ctQtrrc xai aXltrr *ettd(ia)7rtvtiw. — Xen. Mcmorab. Lib. I. Cap. II. 17. 22 MR BLANCHARD'S LECTURE. railing and reproaches of an impudent villain who followed him in public with curses the whole day ; and having despatched much important business in the meantime ; when night came, and the fellow had followed him home, all the way reproaching him with a deformity of his person, or some of his actions : — sent a servant to light the rascal home, as the only punishment he chose to inflict. Such was the calm, unruffled temper of Pericles, — the man who controlled, by the force of his own genius, the stormy re- public of Athens, during the extraordinary period of forty years. And such was the strength and purity of his social feelings, that he accounted his never having made an Athe- nian put on mourning, as the brightest feature in a long life, which he had distinguished by everything which is splendid in success. Fenelon, who was, at once, the most amiable of tutors, and the most virtuous of men, was in the constant practice of teaching by the example of others. I shall take the lib- erty of loosely putting into English, the sentiments, which he represents Minerva, in the form of Mentor, as uttering to the young Telemachus, in praise of a character, which she proposes for his imitation. " His frankness," contin- ues she, " in acknowledging his faults ; his mildness ; his patience under the severest rebuke ; his courage, in pub- licly repairing the mischief he has done, and thus exposing himself to the shafts of envy and satire ; all indicate a soul truly great. It is far more glorious thus to recover ones self, than never to have fallen."* This method of instruction should be pursued, in short, oral lectures, as often as once each day. And the precep- tor should not only illustrate his meaning, by anecdotes from the lives of eminent men, but he should bring the subject to the very condition in which his pupils are, or ex- pect to be, placed in life, and show them how Pericles, Titus, Vespasian, or Peter, Emperor of Russia, would have conducted, in just such circumstances as theirs. Could teachers be induced to set about the business of presenting *Sa simplicity k avouer son tort, sa patience pour se laisser dire par moi les choses les plus dures ; son courage contre lui-meme pour r6parer pub- liquement ses fautes, et pour se mettre par Ik an dessus de toute le critique des hommes, montre une ame veritablement grande. II est bien plus gloir- eux de se relever ainsi, que n'etre jamais tombe. — Fenelon. SOCIAL AFFECTIONS AMONG PUPILS. 23 characters to their pupils, either as " patterns to imitate, or examples to deter," they would find the same passion, which creates such an absorbing interest in the youthful bosom, while they pursue some imaginary hero through the intricate windings of some insipid novel, may be employed to their infinite advantage, by enabling them to behold, as in a glass, the social feelings in the characters of others, until they become changed into the same image. 15. The last means of cultivating the social affections, which I shall mention, and the one without which all oth- ers will inevitably fail of their intended effect, is the influ- ence of Christianity. " There is a chasm in the construc- tion of mortals, which can only be filled by the firm belief of a rewarding and avenging Deity, who binds duty and happiness, though they may seem distant, in an indissoluble chain."* The heathen philosophers were enabled to under- stand and practice the social virtues, only in proportion as they approached this belief, while the whole multitude of their times, beyond the reach or rescue of their philosophy, lay wallowing in the styes of pollution and excess, or writhing under the hard hand of disease in wretched stalls of poverty, whose porter was death. In truth, pupils have nothing, but this belief, which can encourage them to per- form the self-denying part of the social duties. For the world was always more or less unreasonable and ungrateful. Of course, he who labors and contrives for the good of mankind, needs the excitement of an ever-present God, who will not suffer any, even the least good emotion of his heart to go unrequited ; but whose glory it is, both to re- ward openly the things done in secret, and, at the same time, to conduct his government with such punctilious exactness, that " there is no darkness or shadow of death where the workers of iniquity may hide themselves."* Such, in substance, was the belief of Socrates, J and it was this which raised him above the malice and vengeance of the Athenians, and enabled him to persevere in treating them kindly, while overwhelmed by the storm of their per- * Hall on Infidelity. f Job xxxiv. 22. T yvdjOU to $tiov,"oTi roaovror xat toiovtov icim , o'jod' I, tin ■jTixvra OQqv, xat nana uy.ovtiv, xai 7T