We have now reviewed in some detail the principal results of recent psychological research and observation, so far as these bear directly on man’s mental and moral growth. Varied as is the mass of information thus brought together, we have found it pointing uniformly to one conclusion—the transcendent significance of the environmental influences of early life.

Again and again we have found confirmation of the view that what a man is and does depends, as a rule, not so much on the gifts or defects of his heredity as on the excellences or shortcomings of his childhood’s training and surroundings. If these are favourable, even the dead hand of a bad inheritance may be arrested, and he may develop surprising strength of intellect and character; if unfavourable, mental and moral inferiority may be looked for, no matter how good the heredity.

This, of course, emphasises the responsibilities of parenthood, chief among which, as would appear from the facts surveyed, are the beginning of formal education in the home, the providing of a carefully planned material environment, and the setting of a really good example. There can be no doubt, to return for a moment to the superlatively instructive case of Karl Witte, that by all odds the greatest force in the moral development of that splendid scholar and gentleman, was the unceasing inspiration he unconsciously drew from the lives of his father and mother—from their integrity, unselfishness, patience, sincerity, and courage. Parents cannot too soon learn that, to quote a cardinal clause in the elder Witte’s educational creed:

“Our children are what we are. They are good when we are good, and bad when we are bad. I would extend this assertion. With full conviction I would say, they become clever, magnanimous, modest, witty, agreeable, amiable, if these are our qualities. They become the opposite if we precede them with the opposite.”

Or, as Doctor Dubois has so admirably put it in one of his University of Berne addresses on moral education:

“You, madam, who complain of the irritability of your little girl, could you not suppress your own, which I have seen break out, in a few words exchanged with your dear husband, immediately afterward? You, sir, who bitterly reproach your son for his impulsiveness and instability of temper, have you not these faults yourself?... Remember the proverb, ‘The fruit does not fall far from the tree.’” (“Reason and Sentiment,” pp. 53–54.)

Personally, also, I am of Witte’s belief that intellectual training along the lines followed by him in his son’s upbringing is of itself an important adjunct to moral growth. Certainly, by developing the powers of observation, analysis, and inference, it makes it easier for the child to appreciate the force of any arguments advanced by the parent in the way of direct moral instruction. Besides this, by keeping the child’s mind occupied with wholesome and profitable matters, it saves him from the idleness and waste of energy which, in childhood as much as in adult life, favour the formation of bad habits. And assuredly the methods by which his mental education may best be carried on in the first years of existence are such that they may be readily applied by all parents.

It is by no means a difficult thing to begin, as Witte did, by naming to the little one various small objects in and about the home. These should be named over and over to him, slowly, clearly, impressively; and the attempt should next be made to convey to him a notion of their properties, by teaching him, for example, to detect differences in colour and in such qualities as hot and cold, round and square, hard and soft, rough and smooth. This can be done in any one of several ways, but the best method, it seems to me, is that developed within recent years by the noted Italian educator of little children, Maria Montessori.

Her plan with every child whose education is intrusted to her is to start by teaching it to distinguish between various touch sensations; and she does this so successfully that her pupils, aged from three to seven, are able, blindfolded, to state the differences in extremely fine gradations of cloths, papers, coins, and seeds. Any parent can do the same thing, beginning by drilling the child in distinguishing between massive sensations, and gradually developing delicacy of touch.

Two cards, one rough, one smooth, afford an excellent starting-point. The child touches the smooth card. “Smooth,” says the parent, and “Smooth” responds the child. The little fingers are then placed on the card with the rough surface. “Rough,” the child is told, and “Rough” he repeats. Only a few lessons of this sort will be found necessary to enable him to select at request the smooth or the rough card and hand it to the parent. Ideas of shape, size, etc., may be similarly imparted, with the triple advantage that the child will daily, and without mental stress, acquire a more and more retentive muscular memory, a more intimate acquaintance with the facts of the world in which he lives, and greater observational and reasoning ability.

Meanwhile, of course, the fertilisation of the child’s mind should also be continued by other educative measures—as the maintenance of an inspiring environment, ready and intelligent response to the child’s innumerable questions, and skilful guidance of his thoughts to subjects which it is especially desirable for him to study. The system of walks and talks, utilised alike by James Thomson, James Mill, and Pastor Witte, is particularly to be recommended in this connection, as also Witte’s practice of propounding to his son interesting problems, and then taking him to places—factories, mills, etc.—where he could observe for himself different stages in their solution.

Something of the same sort is possible to every parent, who can include in such voyages of discovery, if he be a city dweller, visits to botanical and zoÖlogical gardens, art and industrial museums, and similar institutions where his child can obtain entertainment, some insight into the workings of natural laws, and elementary instruction in subjects which will inevitably form part of his school curriculum at a later day.

But, it may be objected, does not all this mean that in order to make sure of results the father and mother will have to give the greater part of their time to the child’s education? Not at all. One hour or so a day will be quite enough in the way of direct, personal tuition. And even if the task of instruction were really burdensome, surely, in view of the findings of modern science, parents will do well to keep in mind, and recognize the profound truth of, Rousseau’s stern pronouncement:

“He who cannot fulfil the duties of a father has no right to be a father. Not poverty, nor severe labour, nor human respect can release him from the duty of supporting his children and of educating them himself. Readers, you may believe my words. I prophesy to any one who has natural feeling and neglects these sacred duties—that he will long shed bitter tears over this fault, and that for these tears he will find no consolation.”