The Methodist Quarterly Review
1857

ART. III.—CHILDHOOD LITERATURE.
IN the world of letters there is the same relation between demand and supply as in art and commerce. All imperative wants in literature have hitherto been met. Has the world demanded a great poem? A genius has speedily appeared whose great conceptions, assuming the form of numbers, have become the cherished possessions of the race. Have the present and the future seemed to assemble in any age to hear an oration upon a question affecting the interests of men? They have not stood waiting long, until some man of extraordinary gifts of mind has come forth to bestow undying eloquence upon the world. It is by calculating the wants of the world, rather than by estimating the powers of men, that we may foreknow something of the great literary labors which will be performed in each age. The human mind is great in its compass; its utmost limits have not been traced. Its power has never yet been fully tested. The direction which it shall take, and the deeds it shall perform, are determined by the demands of the time. What is the great literary want of the world now? What does the public mind need at this stage of its development? What are vacant corners in the world's libraries, which wait to be filled with unwritten books? Of what kind is the ungathered fruit which will reward the toil of harvesters who enter the field at this eleventh hour?

The age does not demand History. The annals of the world have all been written. Men are now needed to do actions worthy of record, and not to become historians. None of the present men are prepared to write a history of existing times; and the golden harvests of the past have all been gathered by those whose names have thus become immortal.

This century does not require a Poem. Men do not expect any greater epics than the great productions of Homer and Milton. Glorious notes from these old masters roll sublimely on the world's ear, from distant ages; and she desires that all present voices should be hushed, that she may better hear the olden harmonies.

Though the world has continual need of being instructed in the truth, she has no lack now of works on Theology. The wonderful chain of Divine revelation was put together, link by link, many centuries ago. The world's greatest and most imperative demand was met when the Bible was given to man. Perhaps human tongue will never more be permitted to speak by inspiration from Heaven. Hence all the thoughts which men hereafter have must be the result of human reason alone. Nothing essentially new can be developed. People of Christian lands have light enough to show them their relations and their destiny. They have motives enough to impel them to walk in the path of duty, and lead lives of faith. They need nothing more to make them ultimately happy.

The world does not ask imperatively for works on Science. Truth, indeed, has not been all discovered and brought to light. Perhaps this may never be fully accomplished at any period in the future; but, doubtless, all the facts which men of science know have been published. The world cannot demand works to elucidate truths of which she has no conception. All truth which is entirely unknown, is as far from being tangible by our desires and aspirations, as the new ideas which would be revealed by a sixth sense. This world is not an old Egyptian despot, to require bricks when no material is at band to make them.. Besides, science is something more than a mere abstraction. She makes her own great publications. When she has a new truth to reveal, she makes it known through the medium of her favored sons, regardless of what the world is doing or demanding.

Hence a work on science is not required. In the libraries is now stored all the truth that is known. if the author desires to take up this truth, to adorn it with the graces of style, and make it more convenient for circulation, he may do so, and win great fame thereby; but his labors are all at his own risk.

Perhaps we may not be able to select any one of the great departments of intellectual labor which now needs to be especially promoted. It may be that a combination of all, forming some new development peculiar to modern times, is what. the world is now waiting for. When we desire to determine of what kind,. and in what degree, must be the ingredients of this combination, an important question arises: For what class should literary labor now be performed?

Modern literature is eminently practical. "Pro bono publico" is a phrase by which is described the great aim of literary labor. Whether this results from the genuine philanthropy of authors, or from the supposition that this is the surest way to earn fame and money, is a query which it requires deep insight into human motives to determine. In either case, thought, in all its departments, is taking a human tendency. Romances and poems are written ostensibly for the same end as sermons. Modern literature, like the ancient Atlas, endeavors to bear the world on its shoulders. Memory now makes it her work to keep a faithful record of all the wrongs and sorrows which the human race endures. Imagination unites them in every variety of color and form. Reason, upon great social premises, deduces conclusions which bear upon the coming destinies of the race.

What part of the world's various populations now calls upon authors for the labor of their minds? Let the true answer to this question be known, and the overmastering humanity in literature will at once direct it into the appropriate channel.

Literature has for ages devoted its energies to promoting the interests of the wealthy and aristocratic classes. Wealth has often laid its treasures at the feet of genius; and the latter, in return, has bestowed gifts more precious than gold. One of the greatest epics which the world possesses was made to gratify the pride of imperial Augustus. The poet's lyre and the historian's pen have magnified the virtues of kings and the exploits of heroes. The wandering 'minstrels of old, and the poets—laureate of modern times, have not failed to keep the world aware of the prerogatives of royal races. No arguments which the greatest intellects could discover to prove the divine right of kings has been undeveloped. No words have remained unspoken, by orator or poet, which would make kings appear more sacred in the eyes of the people, and render subjects content with their lowly lot.

In recent years, perhaps, the poorer classes have had their share of literary attention. Many men of genius have arisen from the humble walks of life; and, in their greatness, have not forgotten to use their powers to benefit their brethren by blood and sympathy. "The Short and Simple Annals of the Poor" have lengthened and multiplied into libraries. The most popular productions of modern times are those which describe the sorrows of the children of penury and want. There is now a distinct department of literature devoted especially to the interests of those who were long "to fortune and to fame unknown."

In every period known to history, men have held their brethren in bondage. Slaves in too many lands and climes have toiled for interests other than their own. One of the greatest means of breaking every yoke, and letting the oppressed go free, will be the wide diffusion of truth through the medium of the press. Genius seems convinced of the great part which it must act in the liberation of humanity; hence many earnest books have recently been written to call attention to the afflictions of the slave. The bondsman has not been neglected. He is now the client of many eloquent and powerful pleaders.

Neither rich, nor poor, nor enslaved, have any especial claims on the labors of literary men to promote their interests.

There is a larger class than any of these, which has more claims than they all, upon the literary labors of the nineteenth century. This class is confined to no land, no clime, no age. It peoples every village and city, every island and continent. It speaks with a silvery voice, and is learning all the languages of earth. Its step is light, but as a conquering army it moves on, invading all the high places of the earth. Soon it will occupy all the thrones, wear all the crowns, sway all the scepters. It will stand in every foothold and situation from the cottage to the palace. in this class are minds of the first brilliancy, destined to possess incalculable power. They are the architects of the world's future greatness. They are a company of laborers, who, with fresh and vigorous powers, will soon enter upon their arduous toil.

Children compose this wonderful class. Their "many infant feet, so small and sylph—like," are not experienced in the ways of life. Their minds are not laden with the wisdom of the world. They have been much neglected in all past ages; and now seem of right to demand, with emphasis, the attention of the literary world.

Literature has had small effect, compared with what it might have had; and one reason is, that its teachings have been directed too much toward mature minds and hard hearts. its words have not been spoken until Mammon's altar has been set up in the heart; and the babblings of the world's commerce have driven all other voices from the audience—chamber of the soul. Then the time is all made into business hours; and worldly thought, like a strong man armed, has entered the brain, and spoiled its goods. Then the truths of religion or of science may desire to hold converse with the soul, but it has other engagements. High and noble conceptions may ask to occupy the soul; but the rooms are all held by tenants who pay rent promptly in golden dollars. But let literature, assuming a garb of especial adaptedness, actuated by a heart of sympathy, meet the soul in the morning of life, take the trustful hand of childhood, and speak words of simplicity and truth. The child will walk slowly at first; but it may one day become an AEneas, who shall bear his foster—father high on his manly shoulders.

A child is the only genuine learner. Let a man enter upon subjects which are ever so new, and he will flatter himself that every idea he obtains was possessed by him in some form before. But to the child all things are new, all things original. The world is a new creation, and all the senses are avenues by which its wonders gain access to the soul. it has been said that during the first five years of life the mind gains more knowledge of external things than in all the after life. Then the faculties are quick and active. The mind is eager to obtain truth, and ready to reward with gratitude any who may add to its intellectual wealth.

Centuries ago a wise man said, "There is nothing new under the sun." This thought has doubtless hedged with discouragement the paths of many who have sought to gather laurels in the fields of literature and science. But to a child, thoughts which have occupied the minds of men since the world began are new and strange. He who tells old ideas to a new mind, impressively and well, occupies a place but a little below him who first discovers important truth, and publishes it to the world.

In all former ages too small a share of attention was bestowed upon children. Each mature generation was too intently occupied in its own wars and conquests, to be much concerned for those who should fight the battles and gain the victories of the succeeding age. But the warlike spirit has in some measure passed away, and the present is pre—eminently a commercial age. Lust for wealth is the all—absorbing passion; and while in this excessive development its tendency is in the main unfavorable, it produces some good results. The disciple of Mammon cares more for his children than did the son of Mars. He spends his time in gathering wealth; and in this pursuit he employs the faculties of mind and body. Yet in his 'meditative moments he knows that life must soon end. lie is naturally anxious to know whose hands shall hold his gold when he is dead. He looks upon his children as the future possessors of his property. This circumstance invests them with a new interest, and throws a peculiar charm around their lives. Through his children he expects in some manner to live on, and enjoy his hard—won riches when his grasping hand is nerveless in the grave, and his unsatisfied heart has ceased its worldly longings. Hence the very spirit of the age excites new interest in behalf of the young. Many men and women labor from day—dawn till evening twilight during the best years of life, that they may bestow wealth upon their children. This interest should in no degree be diminished, but somewhat changed in its direction. Let it become wider and deeper. It will require only some change of heart, and a better insight into human destiny on the part of parents, to induce them to give a portion of the attention, which they now bestow upon temporary interests, to the culture of mind and soul.

Eighteen hundred years ago our Lord said, "Suffer little children to come unto me." His hand was an index directing the world's attention to the young. To this, however, little heed has been given. In all subsequent centuries, the world has practically forbidden children to enter the golden gate, which the Redeemer opened for them. Men, with harsh and incredulous tone, have loudly asserted that they were too young to be admitted to the enjoyment of such extraordinary privileges. In modern times, by some extraordinary manifestations, Heaven has done much to rid the world of such erroneous conceits. In many instances, the youthful mind has shown a wonderful precocity. More than one child in this century has astonished professors of mathematics by its wonderful deeds with numbers. Youthful feet have run with amazing swiftness along the flowery paths of poesy, and have threaded very far the labyrinths of science.

It is proverbial that precocious children die early; but they never pass away until they have performed a mission of no small importance. They show our worldly and unbelieving souls what fragrant, early flowers might bloom in the gardens of humanity, with judicious culture. They are practical rebukes to mankind for long and sinful neglect. They are like the few grains of golden sand washed up on a river—shore of the far West, which showed that vast mines of wealth could be found by seeking. Many minds, heeding this indication, should abandon their old and unproductive employments, to labor in the new fields of intellect and heart which are now open before them. Such laborers have great reason to expect that a harvest will be gathered of far greater value than all their expended toil.

There are many peculiarities in the child's mind, which make labor upon it very productive. The Memory is retentive. Events then absorb the soul so fully, that they seem almost a part of its existence. Time may utterly efface from the recollection of many, things which were as familiar as household words, in after years; but upon the events of childhood it has little influence. The old man, as he looks backward, cannot see clearly through the mists which rest over his middle life; but far away the evening sun shines brightly on the fields where he walked in youth. Impressions may be made upon the mind in childhood which nothing can efface. The years may work many changes upon the affections of the heart and the aspirations of the soul. The heart may seem very cold and worldly; but it will sometimes steal away from the turmoil of the present to hear the words which, spoken in childhood, have echoed ever since in the chambers of the soul. Faithful lessons, taught in youth, sometimes produce their richest fruits when parents and teachers are no more on earth. George Washington's father taught him the great doctrine of Divine Providence, by the sowing of seeds in his garden. No technical language was used, no obscure symbols were employed. The child's mind grasped the doctrine which learned infidels have rejected as too incredible for their belief, and too mysterious for their comprehension. That one truth thoroughly impressed upon the boy's mind, was worth more to him than a landed estate or a kingly crown. It was not forgotten by him in those years of battle, when he was called to lead the fragmentary army of a people weak in wealth, experience, and arms. It did more for him than ambition did for Alexander, or destiny did for Napoleon. That trusting the Almighty, which he learned from his early lesson and later experience, doubtless made him victorious in war, and rendered his name immortal.

Imagination in childhood is quite different from that of a trained and disciplined mind in after years. The thoughts and fancies then manifested remind us of the childhood of the world, when imagination was the predominant faculty of nations. Birds seemed messengers of good or evil omen. Spiritual beings were supposed to throng every fountain, stream, and wood. Imagination sometimes usurps the place of memory, and performs some of the duties of its office. In later years it throws a light and beauty over childhood, which it did not seem to possess when its slow hours were passing by. The sorrows are nearly all for—gotten, and every pleasure is clad with new beauty when seen in the combined light of imagination and memory. But imagination goes even beyond this. Taking up the narratives and tales which were often heard in the nursery, it makes them a part of the experience; and the mind seems to have beheld scenes of which it has only heard the description. The writer has known a man, who could not persuade himself that he did not remember many events in the history of his family which occurred before he was born. He had heard these scenes described so frequently by parents and friends, that they presented themselves whenever he looked back upon his early life, and seemed to form a part of his own history.

Words spoken in the ear of childhood are more than images of thought; they possess many of the attributes of real things. They are replete with warm and earnest meaning. The unsuspicious soul has no conception of falsehood or deceit. All things are true. Deception has found no hiding—place in any portion of the trustful heart. Words are not then cunning devices to conceal thought." Giants, witches, and fairies, all have a true existence. They pass and repass through the years of childhood, and cast their long, dark shadows just as living beings. Even after the manly mind has assumed the scepter, and driven away many of the childish fancies, some of the wonders remain, as the mists sometimes lie in the valley long after the sunrise. This shows how well the youthful mind might be pervaded by the good, the beautiful, and true; how the firmament of childhood might be set with radiant and eternal stars. We cannot doubt that beautiful and excellent realities might throng the soul in such multitudes, that idle fancies and unprofitable whims would find no resting—place.

Childhood is the time to supply the mind with many ideas which the imagination especially aids to grasp and comprehend. There are truths in the Bible and religion which the young mind can receive with more implicit trust and better faith than after the faculties have become blunted by contact with the world. There are subjects which, if seen in the light of childhood's morning, and made the subjects of study in youth, will stand forth more distinct and beautiful in all after years, than if suddenly beheld for the first time amid the hurry and bustle of active life. Perhaps the reason why many persons complain over much of the mysteries of the Bible, is that they did not commence their investigation until the period when the mind is unable to regard wonders with the right spirit. Great truths have suddenly shone forth with all their splendor, and dazzled with their brilliancy; whereas, if they had dawned gradually and appropriately in the morning, and had only grown brighter as the day of life advanced, the soul would see clearly, where it is now oppressed with doubt; and perhaps would walk straight forward, where it must now stop and labor long to overcome obstacles and remove obstructions. Many truths of the Bible might early be ingrafted, and by careful culture be made a part of the mind itself They would be accompanied by all the pleasing associations of early days. Religion thus interwoven with the recollections of early life would never entirely lose its influence over the heart, though it should afterward wander very far in sin.

While we would have truth bestowed upon the young mind, we would not follow the advice of the extreme utilitarian. While remaining within the bounds of truth and reason in the authorship of children's books, it is not necessary that we place in their small hands ponderous volumes on science. They need not read works on medicine or law. We would not attempt to direct their inexperienced feet into the dimly—lighted valley of abstract speculation; nor would we commit them to the guardianship of any "Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge." Successful as such corporations may be in collecting facts, they are not skillful in molding the human mind.

Education is not the possession of any number of facts or truths. A mind may be educated without having an inexhaustible fund of knowledge. What the mind needs is harmonious and systematic development; and the system which will promote this, although it may not leave in the memory one practical truth, will nevertheless accomplish a great result.

Fiction is sometimes true, and facts are false. Facts may be so marvelous as to overtax our powers of belief, and so bad as to be false to our sense of propriety and right. There are whole classes of facts which would have an unfavorable influence on the mind, should they be known. Fiction may be true to our experience, and true in portraying the aspirations and tendencies of the human heart. It is often just in its delineation of characters, though no human being may have said the words or done the deeds ascribed to them. Right fiction is true in the moral which it imperceptibly and irresistibly instills. The Progress of Bunyan's Pilgrim from the City of Destruction to the Celestial Country, is at the same time the most wildly false and solemnly true of any human composition. We would not shut out children from the flowery fields of fancy. Let them be led by kind and skillful hands through its delightful groves, and by the side of its silver streams, taking in new beauties at every step, and insensibly growing into the mental and moral stature appropriate to the future activities of life. Literature for children must undoubtedly be in part composed of fiction. Let it not be the wild romance, which has too often entered the brain and driven away more sober thoughts. Let it be genial and thoughtful, taking cheerful and consistent views of humanity.

The youthful mind delights in scenes and events. it has so recently entered the world, that the faculties are all eager to learn the doings, thoughts, and feelings of men. In order to satisfy this demand it will be necessary to enter the domain of fancy. Truth is inexhaustible, and were it known in all its forms and varieties, there would be no need of looking elsewhere to satisfy the soul's longing after wonder. Events are dayly transpiring among men which bear witness to the fact that 'truth is stranger than fiction." But the masses have not learned to describe, and the literary man sees but little of the active world. It would be fruitless for him to go wandering over the earth in search of facts. By sitting in his study, and forming some of those infinite combinations which actions and ideas admit, he can still be true to nature, and benefit his readers with many ennobling and useful views of life.

Authorship for the young requires good talent. Moderate abilities are more available in any other department of literature than in this. If the author who writes for mature minds commits errors, his experienced reader may see them, and avoid the evil influence. There may be inaccuracies in arrangement, style, and argument; but when the mind is strong, and its habits of thought are formed, the unfavorable results are comparatively few. There may be errors in doctrine and precept; but the mind skilled to reason can avoid the unfavorable effects. But upon the child the influence of the inaccurate author is only evil. All his false assertions and evil words have their influence upon the youthful mind. Every instance of inaccurate style tends to deform the growing powers. Hence the writer for the young should be one who falls into few errors, and sins seldom or never against the laws of literary propriety.

None but a man of deep learning and profound thought knows the nature and laws of mind. In childhood these laws operate with greatest force, undisturbed by education and habit. Mental philosophy frequently refers to the sayings and doings of children, as inductive proof of its propositions. He who has the best understanding of the laws of mind, combined with tact, skill, and experience, will be most successful in making a lasting impression upon the young. This author should have a critical knowledge of the capacities and powers of language, such as is not obtained by the study of our vernacular alone. This is acquired by going to those ancient fountains whence streams of intellectual life have flowed through all subsequent ages. Words should be studied as used by the renowned writers of antiquity. . Math of the learning of childhood is merely verbal. Words are often impressed upon the memory long before the mind learns the full extent of their meaning. They are taken up, investigated, and fully understood in after years. Then they have the more importance, because of the associations which are connected with them.

The mind which becomes the source of literary treasures for the young, should be under the influence of Christianity. No one can successfully place motives before any being until he knows some—thing of its destination. None but the Christian truly understands the destiny of the soul. No one who has become aroused to the solemn weight and importance of the future can regard a child as the mere insect of an hour. He regards it as a being who shall be present at the inauguration and exit of all the cycles of eternity. He looks upon it as possessing a life which shall grow deeper and wider as it flows through all the hereafter. He sees it endowed with an identity which no contingence can destroy.

In the family of Christ the purest members are little children. Hence the Christian author is bound by very peculiar relationship to them. He writes with a zeal and interest which he can only have for those in whose hopes and destinies he has some share.

Sympathy is the great means of power with him who wields an influence over his fellow—men. It is the great instrumentality of the popular writer. He forms a strong alliance with his readers. There is no cold and formal distance. A life—giving current flows from his mind to theirs, bearing health and beauty to the heart of his remotest and most transient reader. He has a warm affection for every member of the great republic, confederated by the bonds of his thought. Such an author is much greater than a monarch, since he enters more deeply into the hearts and minds of his readers than a king with his subjects. Influenced by the deep sympathies of his nature, he seems at times to lay aside those great peculiarities which mark him as a ruler in the world of mind, and enters with gladness into the humblest cottage where his readers dwell. He must do this, or he cannot enlist their sympathies in behalf of the principles and precepts which he teaches.

Recent great advancements which have been made in the arts are favorable to the perfection of children's literature. The toilsome scribe was long since superseded by the printer. William Caxton, publisher of the first book printed in English, said in his preface: "I have practised and learned, at my great charge and despence, to ordain this said book in print, after the manner and form as ye may here see, and is not written with pen and ink as other books ben, to the end that all men may have them at once; for all the books of this story thus imprinted, as ye may here see, were begun in one day, and also finished in one day." This great art has been so much improved since Caxton's day, that one unfamiliar with the toils of the printing—house–-the type—setting, the proof—reading, the press—work–-might suppose that books were multiplied by magic.

The art of engraving is doing much to benefit literature. All persons delight to be instructed by the eye. To the young especially, pictures are a source of continual delight. They instruct in a way that words cannot; and, in connection with them, they teach a lesson far more impressively than either could do with—out the other. Pictures in children's books should be in the best style of art. The painter's pencil and the engraver's burin should co—operate to make the objects delineated stand forth in life and beauty. Great improvement has been made in this department of children's books within recent years. The child may now study art and improve in taste while occupying the lowest form in the school—room.

What has been done for children is enough to cheer the heart of the philanthropist. Some of the best writers are directing their attention toward authorship for children. Dickens, besides his Christmas Stories, has given the youthful world something valuable in "A Child's History of England," upon which his genial fancy and transparent style have thrown a charm for "children of larger growth." This example has been imitated with some success in Histories of the United States and Rome, lately published in this country. Abbott has 'made his name familiar and beloved by his "Histories" of remarkable men and women in ancient and modern times. Yet he has written books in memory of some who are not worthy of the honor; from whose lives sufficient good cannot be gathered to repay the pains of writing and reading them. A boy will gain about as little benefit from the "History of Nero," as from the "career, crime, and confession" of some celebrated criminals, who have ended their lives on a modern gallows. Of less literary pretensions, unacknowledged by any distinguished name, and yet of undoubted beneficial tendency, are "Stories from History," in several neat volumes, lately published by the Methodist Book Concern. Much has been laid before youth in the form of tales and sketches. Almost all our story writers, after having written for older people have presented something for their little friends." Such productions, being many, vary much in character. Parents should place no books of this class into the hands of their children until they have read them, and marked their fitness.' Moreover, the simple style of many of our best authors renders books, not written especially for children, intelligent and interesting to those quite young in years. A child of ten years, with ordinary understanding, will read with interest many of the best productions of Addison and Irving. The benevolent projection and judicious selection of youth's libraries have given an important addition to the advantages of the rising generation. The State of New—York possesses the largest public library in the world. It is more efficient than the cloistered collections of the Old World, scattered as it is throughout the state, in every school district, and accessible to every child. Other states have their "Common—School Libraries," established with the same benevolent intent, and promoting in the same manner the interests of society.

The Sunday—School Union is the most efficient agent in modern times, for the creation and diffusion of literature for the young. It casts its richly—laden pages all over the land. They find their way to the mansions of the wealthy, and to the humble home of the settler in the distant West. Written by different authors, and having great variety in matter, style, and subject, they meet the wants of all, and convey instruction of infinite value to the rising generation.

With such favorable circumstances around the future men and women, we may expect the age just before us to be one of unusual intellectual brightness. The reign of Augustus was glorious in being contemporary with the lives of many great authors. Addison, Johnson, and Goldsmith formed part of a constellation which shone first upon the British Islands, and then upon all other civilized lands. The eighteenth century was made brilliant by their presence.

But the golden age of literature is yet to come. In no period yet have the masses been able to appreciate literature. In more than one age the authors have been more numerous than their patrons. In the time of Augustus there were many poets, and but one Miecenas. In the golden age of literature the authors will be [FOURTH SERIES, VOL. IX.—26] many, and their admirers and patrons vastly more. No number of authors alone can make a literary age. There must be an appreciating public. An author without readers is practically an idler among his fellow—men; for his efforts are of no avail in doing the labors of his age. Nor does it suffice that he shall have readers in after centuries. His lack of immediate success results from some deficiency, either in himself or the people of his time.

The age of great authors and appreciating people is not far in the future. When a generation occupies the world, which has learned to love literature from childhood, many powerful writers will arise, and their coming will be welcomed by the people.

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