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It must not be supposed, however, that I allow beyond certain narrow limits that the Positivist conceptions of duty to society contain any very important new truths. The general consideration with its practical results that as science grows more accurate we see many duties more clearly, because we learn better what is in our power and what is not, and measure more truly the effects of what we do upon the welfare of society, is indeed a very important one, but it is a portion of the Positive method which Christianity welcomes, and has welcomed, independently of Auguste Comte's lessons. We have not to go beyond the pages of Scavini or Gury to find that there are virtues or vices which can only be acquired or avoided, in particular cases, by attention to rules of diet which are the discoveries of medical science. If political economy teaches us that reckless almsgiving does not truly and satisfactorily aid the poor as much as more systematic methods, no Catholic would say that St. Ignatius' advice never to pass a poor man without giving him something was superseded in principle. The saint's object was to cultivate feelings of readiness to aid the poor; and if science shows a new method to be more effectual, we thank science for the information. But the class of motives and ideas which instigate charity remain as necessary as before, and the Positivist tendency to assume that the discovery of a new means supersedes necessarily the old motives, is a little like the supposition that an improved species of boot may be so good as to render feet unnecessary. In so far as the Positivists do show newer and truer ways of serving society, exacter conceptions of the effects of our actions on the social organism, so far we are grateful to them and glad to adopt their suggestions and methods. For one of the duties which Christianity has ever prominently acknowledged is, to use Mr. Morison's own phrase, the service of man.' But here we must stop. The ideals, the motives, the beliefs of Christianity are not touched by this, and the great desideratum of Positivism-which has been so often pointed out that I will say no more of it here-of sufficient motive power towards morality for natures of mixed tendencies, is again in Mr. Morison's book, in spite of the acuteness of his criticisms, and in spite of the eloquence of his account of the general aim, 'the service of man,' conspicuous by its absence. The one lever he proposes is the general cultivation of the benevolent instincts, and he quotes Mr. Spencer as saying that this is the truly moral' force. We are inclined to think that he partly misses Mr. Spencer's point, which is not that it is the only one to be used in practice, and in our present state of development, but that it is the only truly moral one in the sense that when the highest morality is attained, this class of motives are to be the normal ones: and also that the instincts in question are those which measure most truly the morality of actions.

To refuse to make use of another class of motives in initial stages

is rather like refusing to get into the water until you can swim. You begin to keep many a boy out of evil through the mixed motives of fear of his father and love of his mother; but when he has come, in consequence, to form fairly good habits, his father may die, and the love of his mother, allied with the good habits, may be sufficient motive to prevent his falling away. But if we refuse, to start with, to influence him by any motive save love, and won't let his father beat him, he may soon become irreclaimable. And so, when we read Mr. Morison's artificial scheme of a morality which shall rest simply on altruism, we cannot help recurring to the common-sense advice given to confessors in the Catholic confessional as to their dealings with penitents who are liable to fall-that they are first to hold out the terrible consequences of sin both in this world and in the next, then to dwell on the justice of God, who ordains that such should be the consequences, then upon His love and willingness to help the sinner. What fear begins, love may end. But if the first and last attempt goes straight to the highest motives, which are weak through neglect, what can be expected but failure? We suspect that the Positivist priest who dealt with his penitent on this principle would have a rude awakener, parallel to that which Sabine gives to her uncle in Feuillet's La Morte. Few of Octave Feuillet's readers will need to be reminded of the striking scene in which the freethinker, M. Tallevaut, who, though he has brought up his niece without belief in Christianity, has nevertheless taught her the highest lessons of duty to humanity and to nature, has spoken of the nobility of our highest instincts, of the beauty of virtue and the shame of vice, is thunderstruck at the discovery that his pupil, false to all his teaching, has committed the basest of crimes.

Mon élève misérable (says the unhappy man), vous ai-je jamais donné par ma parole ou par mon exemple d'autres leçons que des leçons de droiture, de justice, d'humanité, d'honneur? (To which Sabine replies :) Vous me surprenez, mon oncle. Comment un esprit tel que le vôtre ne s'est-il jamais douté que je pouvais tirer de vos doctrines et de nos communes études des conséquences, des enseignements différents de ceux que vous en tiriez vous-même ?... Vous me parlez de droiture, de justice, d'humanité, d'honneur? Vous vous étonnez que les mêmes théories qui vous ont inspiré ces vertus ne me les aient pas inspirées à moi-même ? La raison est pourtant bien simple. Vous savez comme moi que ces prétendues vertus sont en réalité facultatives, puisqu'elles ne sont que des instincts... de véritables préjugés que la nature nous impose. . . parce qu'elle en a besoin pour la conservation et le progrès de son œuvre. . . . Il vous plaît de vous soumettre à ces instincts . . . et à moi il ne me plaît pas. Voilà tout!

Let me note one satisfactory symptom in Mr. Morison's book in conclusion. The really interesting issues which Positivism raises are divorced in it from the extraordinary theological phraseology concerning the great Being Humanity, the nine sacraments, the immortality consisting of the never-ending chain of effects of individual







MISS LAMBERT, in her interesting papers on 'Thrift among the Children' (ante, April 1886 and August 1887), strongly urges the practical recognition of school banks in the time table.' One of the reasons for this proposal is the labour entailed upon teachers in working the banks after school hours.' 'Yes,' said a teacher to me, we have already a deal too much clerking work out of school hours.' That is true enough; and, though some teachers, being convinced of the value of school banks, do not complain of the extra labour they cause, others do complain, or at all events, whether they complain or not, they feel it a burden. The London School Board lately

issued a circular to the head teachers of the Board, requesting general and particular information about school banks. . . . The summary of the teachers' replies showed: (1) the existence of fifty-nine school banks, i.e. school banks established in only about one-ninth of the schools of the board; (2) thirty-seven banks discontinued; (3) eighty-two teachers adverse to starting them, and two desiring to discontinue theirs; (4) forty-four head teachers desiring to establish them (ante, p. 208). It does not indeed appear that the teachers in their individual replies' put in the foreground their apprehension of extra work to be done by themselves. Naturally they would be unwilling to lay much stress on an objection of that kind. Such apprehension, however, if not prominent in their replies, may have been strongly felt in their minds. Less reticence on this point is used by managers and other persons interested in schools. A member of the Hastings School Board, a strong supporter of school banks,' referring to the teachers' cry of want of time,' says: Our teachers are so sorely pressed by the "result" system that they put all their working power into subjects that will pay' (p. 214). The bishop of Shrewsbury says: In the case of many of our poorer schools, barely manned, and hard driven to hold their ground against their rivals, the pressure upon our teachers is already far too great, and the bank with all its excellence becomes in such cases "the last straw (p. 214). Mr. Banner Newton, of Liverpool, who has done as much as any one in England to promote school banks, says that the extra work of the bank out of school hours presses very heavily on some of the teachers' (ante, xc. p. 554).

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The remedy suggested by Miss Lambert and others is that

under existing circumstances it is necessary for the speedy and complete success of school banks in England that the weekly exercise should be recognised in the code (1) as part of the ordinary school work, to give time for it; (2) in the grants, to give encouragement to it' (cxxvi. 213-14). This of course is much to be desired.

Meanwhile, pending such recognition, it may not be out of place to point out a way by which even 'under existing circumstances the teacher's labour in working a school bank may be so far reduced as to be in no sense a burden. Eleven years ago, when I was chairman of the School Board at Brampton, a market town in Cumberland, the board resolved to establish a school bank, and took counsel, as to the best way of working it, with the head teacher of the boys' department, Mr. W. Hugill, a man of considerable administrative ability. They told him they desired the bank to be as little burdensome as possible to the teachers, whose share in the work was to be confined to collecting the deposits. Accordingly he devised a plan which has ever since been worked with great success, the details of which are explained in the following extract from a paper subsequently read by him to the Cumberland Teachers' Association.

The master or mistress will cause to be served on each class-teacher, or trustworthy scholar if no teacher: (a) a lead pencil; (b) a half-sheet of paper with the number of the class and the date written thereon; (c) a small box or saucer; (d) a piece of cardboard the size of the bank books with an elastic band. This will not be necessary if strongly bound books are used. At the time for recess,' by order or signal, the master causes all those who have money to deposit to sit down, while those who have not march out. Each depositor then rises in turn, and with bank-book open ready in one hand and money in the other approaches the teacher, who simply with pencil marks the amount of money in the proper column, places the money in the saucer and retains the book, while the scholar passes on to the yard and makes way for another. If there be a new depositor, of course he has no book; the teacher takes his money and records his name, residence, and amount of deposit on his paper. In this way all the children, after the first or second week, will be out in three minutes or less. Therefore this system cannot be said to deprive the children of their play. When the last child is gone, the teacher arranges his books according to number, and fixes them to the cardboard with the band, adds up the amounts he has entered, including the new money on the paper. He also counts the cash to see if it corresponds with the books, and, finding all correct, carries books and money to the master, who also adds up and counts the money and thus checks the teacher. The master enters the total of each class on a separate sheet and retains the books and money. The total on his paper will correspond to the total cash. In large schools an assistant can share the work of the master by checking the takings of a section. This work of the master may be done in four or five minutes, according to the size of the school. Up to this point everything should be done by the regular school staff, and here the teachers' work and responsibility should end.

The books, papers, and cash are then sent to the trustee, treasurer, or whoever else undertakes the further work. This consists of taking each book separately,

'The 'recess' is the quarter of an hour, generally from 10.45 to 11.0, during which the children go out to play.

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